#i'm in love with her silky long black hair

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

[wisteria-lodge]

theory about why draco & lucius malfoy are generally considered very attractive, EVEN THOUGH they're never actually described that way:

(and it isn't just because of the actors who play them. This post got me thinking about the language JKR uses to describe conventional attractiveness, and I'm having fun unpacking it further)

It's because JKR uses "sleek hair" and "shiny hair" as a synecdoche for "attractive/good looking (femme)."

Hermione's hair is "no longer bushy but sleek and shiny" at the Yule Ball, and again "sleek and shiny" at Bill's wedding when Ron and Viktor remark on her attractiveness. Cho is "a very pretty girl with long, shiny black hair" and Harry watches "her shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze." Ron (under the influence of love potion) says “Have you seen [Romilda Vane's] hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky?" Fleur throws her "sheet of silvery hair" around. Bellatrix used to be beautiful ("She retained vestiges of great good looks, but something — perhaps Azkaban — had taken most of her beauty") and you can tell because her hair used to be "sleek, thick, and shining" even though it is now "unkempt and straggly." The dandyish young Slughorn's hair is "shiny" and flamboyant Lockhart's hair is "sleek."

So when we get descriptions of Lucius Malfoy that stress his "sleek blond hair" or that his "his usually sleek hair was disheveled" and then DRACO, "whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his father’s" has "sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face" a "sleek blond head," and then of course a description of Pansy "strok[ing] the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place."

I mean. Our brains put two-and-two together. The Malfoys are attractive/good looking (femme.)

Like, absolutely an accident, but very funny.

("sleek and shiny" is also how harry consistently describes broomsticks he likes, which absolutely tracks)

[foxintheferns]

I'd love to see Jacob with a single mama. I'd love it if he imprinted on her while she's playing with her little one on the beach. She could be Charlie's niece who he helped move to Forks to give her a fresh start with the little one. I'm thinkin the kiddo is about 1-2, old enough to walk/play in the sand but still young. I can see Jacob being the best papa ever and the pack just LOVING on the kid <3 Please and thank you! <3

Thank you so much for your patience with this one! Because I made you wait so long, I made it a long one <3. Loved writing such sweet lil fluffy stuff. Please enjoy :)

A/N: AU where Jacob and Bella aren’t toxic & weirdly obsessed with each other, and he has his own life and experiences outside of her! Period.

HOME

You sat on the sand with Lydia between your legs, her wispy, silky auburn hair blowing between your fingers with each soft gust of the salty breeze. You faced the ocean, La Push beach surrounding you in all of its striking glory.

Lydia babbled as she played with the sand, her back to you and her arms and legs quite literally covered in the granules. It would be her second birthday in two months, and you couldn’t understand where the time had gone. She grew so quickly, her chunky little arms and legs getting longer by the day, and you wished desperately that you could pause time.

Your ex boyfriend Noah, Lydia’s father, hadn’t wanted much to do with the raising of his child.

You looked down at the side of her sweet face, the buttery soft skin of her cheek glowing with the orange light of the afternoon. It was despicable that anyone could not want to love this tiny human, you thought, that anyone would even consider leaving her by choice. But that was exactly what Noah had done. His booze and his gambling was far too important to him to bother with the raising of a small child.

It made you angry; you felt a relentless and almost violently intense need to protect her. From everything ugly and awful and false in this world, even if that meant her own father. He had never treated you right, always gone for nights at a time doing who knows what with God knows who. The pregnancy had been an accident, but his reaction was not what you’d expected. He’d seemed to be on-board at first, but was never there for you during your difficult pregnancy. You thought back to how your muscles had ached as you were on all fours scrubbing the bathroom floor that one Saturday night, seven months pregnant and inconceivably exhausted. He had come home after being gone for two days, reeking of liquor and barely having time to slur out his angry question of what you were planning on making for dinner before he’d passed out on the living room couch.

You had been expecting Lydia’s birth to snap him back to reality, to throw things into perspective for him. But the man you had practically grown up with, together since 18, had missed her birth.

“Got caught up at work,” had been his excuse when he showed up at the hospital the next morning. Even the labor and delivery nurse had thrown him a glare.

When Lydia was 3 months old, you were forced to go part-time at the job you’d loved, the one that could actually lead somewhere. Without Noah’s help, childcare was next to impossible. Your neighbor, Jess, a stay at home mom of three, was kind enough to babysit Lydia with her own children for a few days out of the week, but you felt awful not being able to pay her much, if anything, most weeks.

After over a year of trying, of desperately hoping and yearning for the man you had once loved to be a father to your sweet girl, you’d finally thrown in the towel. Noah had made it clear that he had no interest in being a dad, and in one of his more blacked-out stupors, had even remarked that if the two of you hadn’t gotten pregnant, things would’ve been easier. Better.

Noah had been gone 11 days, his longest absence yet.

You’d packed your minimal belongings, gathering Lydia’s too and putting them into her tiny suitcase with strawberries on it.

Your mom had passed when you were 16, and your dad was very much like Noah. Oh, how patterns repeat themselves. You didn’t have much of a support system to fall back on when shit hit the fan.

The one person you knew would answer if you called was your Mom’s brother, Charlie.

“(Y/N)?,” his gruff, tired voice had come through the phone that early Tuesday morning. You knew it was probably only 4am in Forks, where he was, but he’d still answered the phone.

“Uncle Charlie…,” you’d whimpered shakily, “I-….”

You didn’t even know where to begin. Uncle Charlie had always been so good to you, checking in and asking how Lydia was frequently. He’d been one of the few people you’d called to share the exciting news of your pregnancy with, and had been ecstatic, urging that you come visit him and your cousin Bella as soon as you could.

“What’s goin’ on? You okay?”, His voice had become suddenly alarmed, and you’d heard the shuffling in the background of him getting up and out of his bed.

Leaving with Lydia was something you’d been wanting to do for a while, but you didn’t think you could actually follow through with it. Saying it out loud felt impossible.

“I need your help,” you’d whispered, your voice low and on the verge of breaking.

That was two weeks ago now.

You sat on the soft sand with Lydia, her tiny fingers gripping your leg for support as she pulled herself up, and you thought back to the fear you’d felt that day. Charlie had immediately paid for a plane ticket for you and Lydia to fly up to Port Angeles. He didn’t waste a moment in inviting you to come stay with him. He’d been clearly enraged, barely hiding his distaste for Noah’s behaviors once you’d let the floodgates open and told him everything you’d been hiding for months.

“Jesus, (y/n). I thought you guys were doing good…I thought he was different, honey. I’m so sorry, kid,” Charlie had spoken into the phone after the words pouring from your mouth had finally come to a halt once you’d gotten him caught up on the current status of your relationship with your baby’s father. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d been hiding it from practically everyone. Your cousin Bella texted you often, and she knew some of the details of how absent Noah had become, but even she didn’t know the extent of it. You were a single mother, from the moment Lydia was conceived, you’d accepted that. Noah was never a dad to her.

“Mama! San!” Lydia’s tiny voice shrieked out as she grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it in front of her, some of it spraying in the breeze and landing across your chest and arms. She tentatively waited for your reaction. Her eyes scanned your face, her pink cheeks pulled into an ecstatic smile. You laughed, shaking your head, and wiped the rough granules off of your skin as you nodded at her.

“Yes, sand!” You picked up a handful of it, holding it out to show her and letting it spill through your fingers. She shrieked again, excited by your intentional dropping of the sand, and jumped several times, her little legs barely able to lift her half an inch off the ground.

You’d been down at the beach in La Push almost every day now. You’d gotten settled in to the extra bedroom at the Swan’s house, and you couldn’t help but feel like a burden, so you went out with Lydia often. Charlie and Bella had insisted, several times, that they were grateful to have the two of you. That they didn’t feel burdened by your presence. A toddler definitely wasn’t the quietest or most polite house guest, but Lydia was truly the best thing you’d ever done, and you prided yourself that you’d managed to raise such a good tiny human all on your own.

She was kind, and gentle. She loved animals, she loved making new friends. She watched the world around her with curious and eager eyes, anxious to explore and see and feel. She laughed and laughed and laughed; she was the giggliest baby you’d ever seen.

Bella offered to watch her whenever you needed a break, and you hadn’t asked for one yet. She was practically begging to babysit Lydia at this point, which had surprised even her; she wasn’t much of a kid person.

You didn’t want a break. You were soaking up this time with your little one as much as you could. You felt free, for the first time in a long time.

The beach felt like home now, and Lydia seemed to think so too. Every time you walked with her down the dirt path toward the beach, she would screech and try her best to run towards the glistening ocean. You’d been at the beach now for an hour or two, and you reached into your bag to pull out more baby sunscreen for her.

“Lyd, come ‘ere babe.” You reached out, gently pulling her to you, and her eyes landed on the pink bottle of sunscreen. She knew the drill at this point, and gingerly leaned against you as you rubbed the cream across her tiny little shoulders and arms. She giggled and smiled as the cold sunscreen landed on her skin.

“Eeee!” She cried, slapping her small hands against your leg as she pulled her face away in protest to you trying to spread the sunscreen across her cheeks. She still stood in place though, squeezing her eyes shut and pouting as you rubbed it in.

“Thank you, baby. Such a good girl,” you cooed as you snapped the lid of the sunscreen closed and placed a kiss on the tip of her little nose. You continued to pepper her face with smooches until she was a screeching, giggling mess on the sand, her arms and legs flailing every which way. You tickled her, both of you laughing loud enough for the sound to travel over the noise of the rolling waves hitting the beach.

After the tickle attack came to an end, you grabbed some strawberries and blueberries from your bag, pulling open the Tupperware container and holding it out to Lydia. Her eyes lit up (strawberries are her all time fave) and she eagerly grabbed at the berries with both hands. After several minutes of snacking, her mouth and face was stained pink and red, and her fingers were sticky. The sand was still warm, although the breeze was starting to cool off a bit.

“Let’s walk, yeah Lyddi?,” you asked, getting up from your large towel and brushing the sand off of your legs. She bounced around beside the towel, falling a few times onto the soft sand as she lost her balance. You held your hand out and smiled down at her, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She reached out without hesitation, allowing you to envelope her tiny hand in yours, and let you lead her down towards the water.

You walked across the gentle waves, only going far enough so that the incoming swells flowed across your feet and ankles. With each wave hitting the shore, Lydia giggled and gripped your hand firmly, picking her feet up as quickly as she could to run from the water as it approached, only to run back towards it when it receded. You bent down, releasing her hand to skim the ocean water, wetting your fingers to clean the berry juice from her face.

As you were wiping your thumb across the soft skin of her chin, you saw her eyes flicker to something behind you, down the beach. Her gaze was intent and focused, and you glanced over your shoulder to see what managed to catch her constantly fleeting attention. A group of four tall men coming down the beach, kicking a soccer ball amongst their group. Their laughter was just reaching your ears now, and they were coming close enough that you were able to make out their faces.

They were quite large, and all but one of them were shirtless. The image rang a bell: they looked like they could be some of the Quileute boys you’d heard Bella mention were her close friends. You knew the beach was on the local Quileute reservation, but it’d been relatively empty in the days you and Lydia had been spending there, and you’d only seen random tourists walking along the beach occasionally. Bella had complained jokingly to you that these friends of hers were annoyingly always shirtless, impossibly large and tall, and that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t the biggest fan of them.

You smiled when one of them looked down the beach towards you and Lydia, and he seemed to return a polite smile at first, but his face melted into an odd expression when your eyes met. It was an indecipherable look. A look you didn’t understand.

He stopped walking, his body halting while his friends continued to move down the beach ahead of him. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to wave or come towards you, as if he recognized you like an old friend. The peculiar expression lingered for a moment before he pulled his eyes away quickly, and you saw his mouth moving as he seemed to speak swiftly to the men around him. His friends stopped walking as well, all turning to face him with bewildered expressions. The eye contact between you had been longer than a typical interaction with a stranger, but you felt oddly unalarmed. You were struck with an odd sensation that felt like you recognized him too.

He was the tallest of the group, his shoulders wide & strong. His frame was long and lean, and he happened to be the only one wearing a shirt, though it was a black cut off tank that didn’t cover much of his chiseled musculature underneath. You brushed the encounter off as random and probably explainable, trying to ignore the odd and unfamiliar sensation that prickled across your entire body like electricity.

You turned back to Lydia, but her curious eyes were still locked on the group behind you, wonder filling her face. A smile crept onto your lips as you watched her blink, her long lashes framing her wide eyes. She was beautiful. She was always so curious, so interested. Strangers made her nervous, like any two year old, though, which is why you were utterly bewildered when she broke away from your grasp and started toddling down the shore towards the group of men. You shot up from your lowered position, chasing after her.

“Lydia!” you called, your feet picking up pace.

It was amazing just how fast a two year old could be when they suddenly decided they had a destination in mind. You caught her under the armpit just as she almost fell across the wet sand in her run, and your knees hit the soft sand as you almost fell yourself. You panted, holding onto her and unable to stifle back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What the heck! Lyd-,” you started, looking up from where you grasped her. She was frozen, staring up at something.

She’d managed to close the distance between the two of you and the men, quickly enough that the soccer ball they’d been passing around as they came down the beach was only feet away now. You followed her gaze, and saw two large hands come down to swiftly pick up the ball. Your eyes moved up more still, until they landed on the face of the man you’d just locked eyes with moments before.

His gentle brown eyes were wide, his jaw slack and his expression yet again incomprehensible. You still had a smile on your face, and his eyes flicked down to your grin, the corners of his own mouth lifting up slightly. He gestured toward you with the arm that held the soccer ball.

“You’re, uh, Bella’s cousin?” The sound of his voice was rough and deep. Your grin faltered to make way for the suprised expression that came across your face.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Um, you know Bella?” You asked, taking the brief moment to get back up onto your feet and readjust the flowy fabric of your sundress that had gotten ruffled up in the capturing of your tiny escapee. You still held Lydia’s hand, and she stayed unmoving by your side, watching the tall man with the same awed expression. A grin spread across his face, and his eyes maintained the same electric glow they’d had from the moment you’d looked at him.

“Bella’s one of my best friends, yeah. She’s told me a lot about you…and… uh Lydia, right?” He spoke gently, his eyes glancing down at the tiny human to your right. You looked down at her, too, and she smiled timidly up at the man, stepping slightly behind your leg shyly. You beamed back at him, nodding and running your fingers through the soft silky baby hair on the top of Lydia’s head.

“Yeah, this is Lydia,” you replied, ruffling her hair until a soft giggle fell from her lips.

“I’m Jacob Black,” he glanced beyond him briefly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “those are my buddies Quil, Embry, and Jared. You’re (Y/N)?”

You glanced briefly over to the other three men, though they were now immersed in their own mumbled conservation several yards away; one of them was watching you with interest and flashed a warm smile back at you.

You nodded, turning back to Jacob.

“That’s me,” you answered with a shrug and a smile. When you met his gaze again, his eyes were intense, almost pained, his pupils wide. That electric feeling ran through you again. The eye contact between the two of you lingered each and every time it occurred, as if it was an inconvenience to pull away from it for both of you. Jacob knelt down on one knee, tucking the soccer ball under his arm. His eyes only broke away from yours to glance down at Lydia, who was still watching him intently from her place next to your leg.

“Hi, Lydia, it’s nice to meet you,” he murmured gently, “I’m Jacob.”

There was a hesitation, and you were just about to encourage Lydia to say hello to Jacob, but to your surprise she broke away from you once more, ambling across the sand and reaching her arms out towards the soccer ball Jacob held under his arm. In her uncoordinated stumbling over the sand, she started to fall forwards. Before you could even begin to reach to catch her, one of Jacob’s large hands came out in a flash to support her, stopping her mid fall.

“Woah, buddy, careful there!” He exclaimed, a chuckle coming from his chest.

At the sound of his laughter, your baby beamed up at him, her expression suddenly delighted, and after a moment, a giggle erupted from her own little body.

Your eyes widened, shocked as you watched her laugh, Jacob’s large hand still holding her up off the sand. His eyes flickered to you as you broke into surprised laughter as well, and soon the three of you were a giggling mess. Lydia adored making adults laugh. It was the phase she was currently in: to laugh at everything anyone deemed amusing, and it was common that she would even fake laugh to get you to laugh, which would often result in a real fit of hysterics from the both of you

You were astonished that she’d warmed to a stranger so quickly, especially such a large man - a category of human that toddlers tend to decide is terrifying for no reason.

As the afternoon started to bleed into evening, you and Lydia got to know your new friends. Lydia was very opposed to moving away from them, interested in the soccer ball and jumping around in the sand. Jacob continued to stare intently at you every moment that his eyes weren’t required to be on something else, and you didn’t mind it. His energy was warm and gentle, and even his friends seemed to find his behavior entertaining, chuckling and whispering to eachother every time Jacob’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds too long. You couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to your face with his stares. You hadn’t really felt this noticed by someone, a man, in what felt like forever. And he was absolutely noticing you. He was doing more than notice you. He was ogling at you, drinking the sight of you in like fresh air for a suffocating man. His eyes turned gentle and soft whenever they fell upon Lydia, and he spent the time as the two of you spoke truly attending to her and her endless toddler games, showing earnest interest in the shells she had picked up and started to stack on one of his feet.

“Oooh, wow, now that one’s pretty. Definitely my favorite one yet.” He carefully examined the newest purple shell Lydia had found and handed to him for inspection. She smiled and clenched her fists in excitement, eagerly racing to find more shells in the sand to bring to him.

His eyes slowly found their way back to yours as you sat beside one another. You smiled softly, and he returned it, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling them gently.

There it was again, that electricity.

Six Months Later

It had been a whirlwind, these past six months. Meeting Jacob Black had changed life entirely for you and your daughter. After that night on the beach, you, Charlie and Bella had visited the Blacks’ home a few times, joining them for bonfires and pizza dinners whenever a hockey game was on tv. Bella seemed adamant that you visit Jacob often, even Charlie seemed surprised with how eagerly she encouraged you to join them and hang out with the Quileute boys. You’d met Jacob’s father, who seemed to welcome you into his family without hesitation within moments of meeting you. He had peered at you with an intensely inquisitive expression, something that reminded you of the odd gut feeling you hadn’t been able to shake…that your new acquaintances were far more interesting than they let on. There was just something about them, and it felt like a secret club you were looking in on, one that caused the hushed, private conversations that seemed to happen frequently in their presence. You’d spoken to Bella about your encounter with her friend right after that first night on the beach. As the rest of that week had passed, Bella had begun acting suspiciously around you. Within days of her odd avoidant behavior, she finally sat you down to tell you things that challenged your perception of the world, forever.

Vampires and werewolves.

Insanity, right?

Bella had explained her relationship with Edward, and you hadn’t believed it at first.

Like, at all. Who would?

In fact, you thought she’d been completely off her rocker, crazy.

That was, until she’d claimed that Jacob had something to do with it, too.

“You need to go talk to Jacob,” she’d urged, “only he can explain what you need to know.”

You’d been absolutely confused, unsure what Jacob Black had to do with anything, especially with this absurd tale of vampires.

“I’ll watch Lydia. Go,” she’d insisted, practically pushing you out the front door. You were insanely curious; you’d never had any reason to question Bella’s mental competence before, and with her frantic efforts to get you to talk to Jacob, you had to know what this was all about. You still of course doubted the absurd story, but wanted to get to the root of the craziness, naturally.

When you’d arrived at the Black’s house, it seemed Jacob was expecting you, and he’d grabbed your hand gently, pulling you towards his little makeshift garage in the back.

You’d spent hours with him that night. Jacob had tried, while his eyes watered and his voice shook nervously, to explain the wildly unbelievable, and yet somehow completely sensical and validating reality of his ancestral destiny.

“I know, (y/n). Please, believe me, I know this sounds crazy,” he’d said as he anxiously paced across the garage, his eyes flashing to your face for your reaction.

You’d shaken your head, trying to connect the dots in your mind. It matched up with the absurd story Bella had told you, only this time he was speaking of wolves, wolves with the instinctual duty to protect from the supposed vampires Bella become involved with deeply. Wolves that were not wolves, but men. Men that included Jacob and his friends.

“Come with me,” he’d finally insisted sternly as you’d silently refused to accept the words he spoke, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

He’d led you outside, to the dark treeline, and placed his hands up in front of him before you could protest.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be hard to see, (y/n). I didn’t wanna have to do this but I need you to understand. There’s so much more to this world than you think there is. Please,” he’d begged, pulling you into a tight hug, his eyes wildly urging yours to listen to him, his shaky voice reducing to a whisper against your hair, “I understand if you never, ever want to be a part of this. But you deserve to know.”

You’d shaken your head, bewildered.

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

He stood back and started to pull his pants down, and your eyes widened, your eyebrow cocking up in confusion. A smile flashed across his lips.

“Remember what I just told you. I’d never hurt you, okay?”

Your mind flickered to the story he’d just spent the last hour telling you, but your brain simply wouldn’t allow you to defy logic to consider the possibility that the man was truly actually about to turn into a wolf.

And yet, you stood there with your jaw slacked open and your eyes wide, your body frozen as he stepped back several feet, his body twitching and trembling and twisting oddly before…

A ripping sound rang out, a wildly violent sound that came from deep within his body. The sound echoed against the trees, before it fell hauntingly silent across the dark backyard. Within less than a moment, a massive red brown wolf was standing before you, his huge head only inches away from your face.

Your mind didn’t comprehend the sight, the reality too unreal and too intangible to wrap around and understand. Those same brown eyes you’d come to know and feel safe in stared back at you intently from the massive wolf’s face.

It was the last image you remembered before you’d fallen to the ground, slipping into a shock driven unconsciousness.

When you’d woken, you had been in Jacob’s bed, an ice pack being gently repeatedly pressed to your forehead and neck.

It had been a rude awakening, but one that had forced open your eyes to a world that quickly became home for you, lifting the veil of reality that you’d come know.

Jacob’s next explanation was that of the concept of imprinting. That night, after you’d settled and moved out of your state of shock, started speaking real words again, Jacob expressed why he felt it was necessary to expose you to his world. He’d explained the ancient way of imprinting, what it meant for him, what it meant for you. That first day on the beach, the way he’d look at you, that electricity. It all made sense now.

“It’s you, (y/n). Now that you’re here, I will follow you anywhere. Even if you don’t want to be part of this, I’ll always protect you and Lydia from afar. Always. I can’t imagine a world anymore without you, a life without you. The moment I saw you, I felt it. My heart was yours,” he’d murmured, his arms around you as he rubbed your back to calm your tremors that had come across your body as you tried desperately to adjust to your entirely new concept of existence.

That felt so long ago, now. You’d met the Cullens soon after you were welcomed into the world of the supernatural, joining Bella in her secretive lifestyle of hiding the direct truth from Charlie, only letting him in on what he absolutely needed to know. Charlie was over the moon that you and Jacob got together; he pissed Bella off with how openly he approved of your relationship with Jacob over hers with Edward. Jacob didn’t feel right having you live in a spare bedroom at the Swan house, and had practically demanded you move into a home on the reservation with him. He’d jokingly insisted that it wasn’t his fault, that the imprint had forced him to need you in his sight at all times. You didn’t resist, elated to finally feel welcome in a home with your Lydia. And it wasn’t hard - Jacob made that incredibly simple. He so openly loved Lydia nearly as much as he loved you. Sometimes, you wondered how deeply the imprinting had impacted him. He accepted it and took it on with respect. He never pressured you to be anything but there, in his life. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest or even really notice how slowly you were allowing him into your heart. The relationship you had with Jacob had begun as a deep and true friendship, but the imprint connection was impossible to ignore, and there was undeniable attraction you felt for him, even beyond his beautifully kind heart and spirit. You held hands constantly, even before you’d established any sort of romantic connection. The first night Jacob had kissed you, you’d expressed your hesitation at pulling him into your life. You’d gotten used to men not wanting much to do with a single mom, after Noah had made it clear that you and Lydia were essentially a burden in his life. You were scared, not only for your own heart, but for Lydia’s. You couldn’t bear to bring another man into her life only for him to reject her like her father had. But Jacob? He’d adamantly refused to let your anxieties overcome you. He loved you, he’d insisted. All of you. Lydia was part of you. So, he loved her. It was that simple to him. He was often just as anxious when Lydia was out of his sight as when you were.

You remember the first time Lydia had called Jake ‘Dada’, several months after you’d been exposed to this world of fantasy. Lydia had gotten so comfortable with him, more comfortable than she’d been with any person, besides you, before. She babbled with excitement every time she heard you or Charlie or Bella mention him, and begged to see him frequently. Once you’d moved into the small red house with Jacob, she’d jump and squeal every time his truck pulled into the driveway at the end of the day.

That day she first said the word, you’d nervously glanced at his face, searching for his response.

She’d been holding his hand, walking along the shore at La Push. It was winter by this point, but Lydia needed her regular beach walk, and was bundled in her tiny red puffer jacket and white hat. She’d stooped down to pick up a shell, gripping it in her small fist, and jerked her hand out to him, dropping the shell into his hand.

“Dada!” She’d squealed as she waited for his approval of the shell.

His eyes had lit up and an expression of utter shock, which had quickly shifted into ecstatic bliss, moved across his features. His eyes had flashed to yours, and he clearly struggled, with everything in him, to hold back a massive grin. He was unsure of your reaction. Your eyes had melted back at him, and you were completely unable to resist the smile that crossed your lips. His dark eyes had turned glossy, and he’d looked back down at Lydia’s impatiently waiting face as she’d stared up at him, grasping the shell and embracing her in a massive bear hug. She’d laughed and shrieked, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

At Lydia’s 2nd birthday party, the whole pack had celebrated with you and Jacob at Billy’s house. The rest of the boys had happily taken on the role of proud uncles, practically fighting over who could hold her whenever you brought her over.

Life was peaceful, and you’d taken on a job at the La Push Farmer’s market. Childcare was a breeze now: on any given day while you were at work, either Sue & Charlie or Emily would eagerly babysit Lydia if Jacob was out on patrol or working his shift as a mechanic at the local bike shop. Lydia now had a family that was larger and more loving than you could have ever dreamed for her.

And you couldn’t ignore the fateful gift that you’d received too. Jacob Black was yours, and you were his. And you knew that, without a single doubt, he’d protect you and your daughter with relentless fervor for the rest of your lives.

You were safe. You were loved.

You were home.

[arc-misadventures]

The Tails Curse

Jaune was doomed.

He had made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

He touched a faunas tail. He touched a faunas tail without permission. He ran his fingers through the faunas soft tail fur, melting to the touch as he felt the silky smooth fur.

And, to a point he regretted touching their tail. He felt like he couped a feel without permission. It was beyond rude to do that to a person, if he saw someone do what he did he would have beaten him to a bloody pulp. Jaune felt like he deserved such a treatment.

And, yet he couldn't let the feeling of that soft fur on his finger tips escape his mind.

And, yet he had to apologize, and make up for the sins he had just committed. He would take whatever punishment that would be thrown at him to atone for the crimes he had committed. But, there was one thought plaguing, Jaune's mind.

Kali Belladonna was a cat faunas. She had cat ears, not a tail. And, cats don't have tails like that. Right?

~~~

Jaune: H-Hello, Ms. Belladonna...

Kali: Oh, hello, Jaune. How are you doing~!

Jaune: I am doing... bad... guilty... ashamed...

Kali: Ashamed...? Ashamed of what, Jaune?

Jaune: I touched your tail without your permission. No one likes to be touched without permission, much less something so private as one's tail. I am sorry for touching your tail. I have no excuse for my actions. I beg for your forgiveness... But, I have one question before you pass judgement...

Jaune bowed his head as he apologized. He hoped this would show, Kali his sincerity, but if not, he understood.

Kali: And, that is?

Jaune: You're a cat faunas; faunas only have on trait, and yet you have two. A-And, that tail... cats don't have tails like that...

Kali: Well, that's because I am not a cat faunas... in fact I'm not even a faunas.

Jaune: W-What? But... the ears?

Kali: The ears just help me to blend in with the other faunas here. But, they are real if you are wonder, and so is my tail.

Jaune watched as her hand ran from her hip as her tail seemingly appeared out of no where. Jaune marveled at the beauty of her silky smooth black fur, with a snow white tip at the end.

Snow white tip? Cat tails didn't look like that, nor were they as bush only...

Jaune: A fox... You're not a cat... y-your a fox?

Kali: Fu~fu~fu~! I am, but I am not any ordinary fox.

Jaune: You're not...?

Kali: Something far more... Mystical~!

The breath from, Jaune's lungs as he say eight ,ore tails fan out behind her, and her raven black hair turned as white as snow. Jaune stepped back in show as his mind struggled to take in the mystical beauty in front of him.

Jaune: A fox... you're a nine tailed fox...

Kali: Indeed I am... I am, Kali Belladonna, the Nine Tailed Fox. I am the protection deity of the lands of, Menagerie.

Jaune gulped in fear as he came to the realization of how screwed he was. He did not know much about the powers of a nine tailed fox, but he knew enough.

Jaune: I touched your tail... To touch a nine tailed fox's tail is to invite a curse upon you. I am to be cursed aren't I...?

Kali: Yes. you are to be cursed.

Jaune: Very well... I accept whatever punishment you bestow upon me...

Kali: Jaune... Raise your head...

Jaune raised his head to see the warm smiling face of, Kali Belladonna walking over to him.

Kali: I shall curse you, Jaune...? I shall curse you with a long life, and a health body... I shall curse you to live a happy life, with a warm home, and a loving family. I shall curse with all of these things, and more. To break this curse you must leave my side. But I must warn you, all manners of unimaginable woes shall befall upon you.

Jaune: It sounds more like you're asking me to marry you... and, that we'll both be sad if I refused your 'curse.'

She ran a hand up his chest as she closed the distance between the two of them. Gently rubbing at across his chest as she felt the muscles underneath.

Kali: We will, and I am... I would have laid a curse upon you when you first touched my tail. You are not the first man I that dared to touch my tail, nor are you the first man I've cursed with unimaginable pain for daring to lay a hand upon me.

Kali: However... as a nine tailed fox I can read minds... and, you are the first man to ever lay hands on me that did it out of sincerity. You saw my tail, and marveled in the beauty of my tail. And, you felt such sincerity in your heart as you apologized... You are a pure soul... and I want you...

Jaune: You want me...?

Kali: Yessss~! My body has not aged in centuries... but, I desire deep within my heart to grow old besides you... to raise a family along with you... I desire you, Luna Jaune Arc... I desire you with all my heart. Will you have me?

Jaune: Luna... You really can read minds... I never told anyone that was my first name...

Jaune cupped, Kali's chin as he stared lovingly in her eyes as stared back with just as much if not with more love, and desire.

Jaune: Can you make your hair go back to being black? It look far more beautiful in black. Misses Kali Belladonna Arc...

Kali: For you my love... anything...

The two leaned in for a kiss of passion, and joy as the new possibilities blossomed into reality.

And, as Jaune melted into her embrace he had one thought running in his mind.

As curses went, this was nice.

[celestialprincesse]

🫧💕

Single mom!reader X Simon Riley cute little post deployment fluff

The moment you see Simon's truck pulling into the shared apartment building parking lot, you're gathering your daughter in one hand and Riley's leash in the other, all whilst being bashed unceremoniously in the face by the 'welcome back' sign your three year old insisted on making with glitter glue pens and heart shaped rhinestones. You'd tried to help her with the spelling, but your unwavering conviction very clearly passed down to her, reflected in the gold glitter lettering of 'wellkum bac' and a child covered in more glitter than her little project. 'No bath mama!' still rings in your ears if you listen hard enough.

Anyone could be fooled into thinking that the grim reaper had come for them at the sight of Simons massive, black clad frame blocking out the already dim light of the hallway - but not you, not your daughter and never Riley. He's already dropping his duffel down by his front door, hoisting your squealing daughter on his hip whilst Riley practically vibrates at his feet with how quickly his tail wags. What you can't get used to, however, is the way you're enveloped into his chest, his masked lips pressing kisses into the crown of your head, Riley's leash dropped so he can lace his free hand through the silky softness of your hair.

"You're back." You hear yourself hum into his chest, letting your fingers curl tight into the old cotton of his henley, reminding yourself that he's here, that he's back and safe. "Are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere?" "Few cuts and scrapes - nothing for you to worry about Love." He rumbles, gently pulling you away from the soft warmth of his chest so that he can take your cheeks in one big palm and look properly at you. "Missed you." Simon admits quietly, allowing himself just a moment of quiet affection whilst your daughter is occupied with grabbing at his mask with her chubby little fingers. "And wha's this?" He turns to look down at the toddler in his arms, pointing at the now crumpled sign she clutches. His smile at her poor spelling and valiant effort is concealed by his balaclava, but you can tell by the way that his brown eyes scrunch at the corners that he's grinning warmly as he drops a kiss on your daughters head, now occupied with Riley's soft ears.

"I made dinner." The sound of your own voice, so full of love and longing, feels foreign to you, as foreign as the concept that you've got someone to make dinner for, someone who cares enough for you and your baby to be a consistent part of your life. "I can bring it over, if you want. I'm sure you're probably desperate for some alone time." You stammer in a poor attempt to not sound so lovesick, a lame play at nonchalance. "Let me drop my stuff and shower and I'll be right 'round." The sound of your daughter whinging as she's handed back to you makes you cringe. Simon lifting his mask to press a tender kiss on the apple of your cheek stops you completely.

𝜗𝜚

They're happening😚 need to commit and give single moms! daughter a name lol

[suguae]

Never lose me.

Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Warnings: Creampie, Virginity loss, Choking, Squirting, erm more probably idunno. Not proofread.

Also my first time writing this stuff so give feedback please!!

Toji was the last person to be in a relationship. He's tried way too many times, but he just wasn't amused by the women he met.

He was giving one last time tonight. "Thanks again Shiu." He says fixing his hair up in a mirror near the front entrance of his home.

"No problem man, I got you every time." Shiu says stuffing his mouth with popcorn as Megumi was deeply focused in the movie that had been playing in the back.

Toji checks his outfit one more time, a black tight long sleeve paired with black slacks. He knew it was basic but after all he doesn't plan on staying out long.

Here he sat bored out of his mind as this women had been doing nothing but blabbering about herself. She was beautiful, but god she would not shut up. Toji got at least four words and it's already been half an hour.

He looked around trying to entertain himself another way, till his eyes landed on you. You were one of his first dates. He vividly remembers you, everything about you was so fucking perfect. Till he found out you were too young for him.

The pink strapless dress you had on tonight, how it hugged your peachy ass perfectly. Your hair was so silky and longer than last time he saw you. Your laugh echoing into his ears.

He still remembers the disappointed look in your face when he told you how it just couldn't work out. But he didn't hesitate to jerk off that night, thinking about you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cold liquid poured onto his head. "Why the hell are you eyeing that fucking women when we're on a date?" The women says catching the attention of many around the restaurant. Even you.

Fuck.

"You're fucking crazy." He scoffed getting out of his seat leaving her there all alone. He walked passed you before exiting the restaurant.

He sat in his car taking off his shirt. 'I'm definitely done.' He said quietly talking to himself.

He heard a small tap on his window. He turned his head making eye contact with you. Slowly rolling the window down. "So this is where you take all your dates huh?" You chuckled.

Just at the sound of your sweet laugh he felt his heart skip a beat. "What do ya want kid?" He sighs flipping his damp hair back.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not even that much younger than you." You say leaning on the car door to have a better look at him.

"Y/n, 15 years apart is not a lot?" He asked while his eyes kept floating to your peachy lips. He would fuck that little mouth of yours and love it.

You smiled, "Nope."

That smile had him in a chokehold.

"Get in." Toji unlocks the doors to the car, he noticed that pretty little smirk draw on your face as you slowly back up from his door to walk to the passenger side.

Your ass moving like jello when you walked past the front of his car giving him a perfect view. Just at the sight of you made his blood move straight to his dick.

Next thing you know, all that was heard in the car was the rustling and sloppy wet kisses in Toji's car . You tauntingly pull away from this kiss. You felt Toji's grip around your waist tighten.

It hurt so fucking good. His big arms, how little you looked sitting on top on him. "Fuck...why'd you pull away?" He whispered.

You looked at him with those pleading big doe eyes, "Did you ever miss me Toji?"

"Of course I did." His hands roamed to the fat meaty part of your ass to grab the hem of your dress, sliding it over your head.

No bra, just that slutty bright pink thong. He noticed the tattoo of a butterfly between your breast. How it made your plump tits pop out more.

Toji admired the beauty in front of him. Was it desperate to say this was how he wanted that night to end? That night when he first met you.

You leaned in giving him wet lazy kisses all over his neck. Sucking a little harder in some places to leave marks. "Toji I need you." You whispered in his ear causing his body to shudder.

Toji wanted to fuck you hard.

"Get in the back." He says guiding you to the back of his car. He gets out of the car to go to the back to meet you there.

His dick was throbbing at he sight of you laying in the back patiently like the good little girl you were.

This was gonna be hard for Toji, He was such a big man in such a small little car. But he was gonna make it worth it.

His hands slowly roaming your body making his way to hover on top of you. Planting kisses on your soft tender breast. Sucking one and squeezing the other to give it the same amount of attention.

As you were panting wanting more from Toji, you could feel your hot core crying for Toji. "I wan u." You say breathlessly.

His hand that was massaging your breast was now on your neck, squeezing tightly but not too tight. "You need me that bad?"

You whimper, "Yes."

You were driving Toji crazy.

His dick was aching more than anything. Wanting to fuck that wet little cunt of yours.

'Fuck..' He makes you sit on top of him. Pulling out his fat veiny cock. His tip drooling with pre-cum. You look up and gulp.

"Toji..." You stuttered.

He moves your thong to the side, slowly moving his index and middle finger inside your gushy wet cunt.

You gasp with pleasure. "T-Toji."

You lean in as he was focused on your cunt. Increasing the speed of the thrusting. You planted a wet kiss on his red plump lips. Bitting his bottom lip as you whine to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Toji fas..ter" You stutter. You could feel his long big fingers constantly hitting that rubbery gushy flesh in your pussy. You felt as if knots were forming in your stomach.

You slowly slide your hand down to Toji's girth. Rubbing your thumb on his wet tip. Toji hissed. You smiled.

"Fuck me already." you breathlessly moan, as your hand slowly slides down Tojis shaft, delicately pumping his dick.

You felt close as Toji kept thrusting his fingers deep into your pussy. He teasingly slides his hands out as he hears your moans getting louder.

His fingers making its way up to your empty mouth. Sliding his fingers deep in your mouth. "Beautiful baby, don't you taste so good?"

You nod. Unable to verbally answer.

"Good girl." He smirks, slowly moving his fingers out of your mouth. He looks down at his shaft as your hand was still wrapped around it.

He guides your hand up and down his cock. Earning low grunts from Toji. "You like that?" you softly whisper.

"C'mere." He huffs with pleasure. Guiding his cock to the entrance of your wet cunt.

"T-Toji, be gentle...it's my first time." You whispered the last part. You hide your face to embarrassed at the sudden confession.

Oh but he loved the idea of having your little pussy all to himself. Touched by no one other than you and him.

"It's alright darling...put it in f'me, will ya?" He says grabbing your hands guiding them down to his cock.

Slowly you grab his lengthy fat cock, twitching in your hands as you slowly guide it in. You wince in pain as his cock stretches your pussy.

"Fuck yer so tight f'me baby." Toji hisses as he grabs both ass cheeks guiding you.

"Ahh Toji, hurts m..me." You say wrapping your arms around his neck, hands intertwining with his hair.

" Ts'okay yer gonna feel better." He grunts as he throws his head back. Guiding your hips to move faster.

"F..Fuck Toji." You sob with pain and pleasure.

Toji knew it hurt, but he fucking loved the tightness around him. How he could feel every inch of you. He wanted this ever since his eyes first landed on you. "Fuck y/n." He moaned.

The pleasure was now taking over. Your whole body feeling euphoric as you hop on Toji's dick like a bunny. You pant out a chuckle.

"Uhh f-fuck doll, i love your fucking pussy." He whimpers. Toji

Toji Fushiguro whimpering. How you had him fucking wrapped around your little finger.

He lifts you up a bit as he bucks his hips into you harder and way more faster. "T-Toji I'm gonna...Im close." You cry out as you feel that knotting sensation in your stomach again.

"Cum f'me baby.." He hissed as his pace fastened.

And you did.

The warm feeling overcoming your body as you limp onto Toji's chest as he's still balls deep. The loud moan that escapes your body causes Toji's cock to twitch inside you.

"This pussy is all mine yknow that?" He grunts as he thrust getting ready to cum.

"t-Toji sta-" You were overstimmulated as you felt Toji's hand roam down to your pearly clit, softly rubbing it.

"Tell me your pussy is all mine." You could feel your body beginning to shake. You bit Toji's shoulder. His pace in thrusting hasn't changed but he was rubbing your clit like their was tomorrow.

You bite harder as you feel an odd feeling as if you need to pee. "Toji...ah baby pee..i need t-"

He grabbed your neck basically choking you. "I fucking said tell me!" He says as your arm wraps around his hand that had been choking you.

"Mmmf..fu..Daddy's pussy...only..Toji I'm gonna pe.." You felt the warm liquid running down your legs as Toji lets his load out inside you.

"Fuck…baby you squirted.” he throws his head back and you plop onto his chest. Both panting.

You lazily chuckled a bit embarrassed.

He grabs your face, planting soft kisses onto your swollen red lips. "How was it for ya first time, baby?"

Your hands wrap around his neck as you lay your head down on his chest. Lazily smiling at him. "I could do it every night." You mumbled.

"I'd like that.." He kisses the top of your head as your eyes slowly closed.

He took you home that night after fucking you dumb, giving you the best after care. Ending the night with him asking you to be his girlfriend. And of course you said yes.

[starlightazriel]

bee 7

desc: best friends>lovers, azriel au (fem reader)

warnings: 18+, fluff, SMUT!!, fingering, raw dogg, oral, light bondage, blindfold, overstim, reader being a lil insecure, teeny tiny foot fetish (cmon we all know az is a freak freak), lil adolescent fluff , drug addiction, (was rereading and feel like i should add kat insinuating someone's on drugs bc they are skinny i know this isn't accurate she's just being a bitch to jab at az basically saying anyone else besides bee that az would be with would be a custy lol)

other parts can be found on my masterlist under azriel

wc: 7.9k

seven

Kat and Mor had both insisted this time, that I get ready at Kats house for my date with Azriel. Date. I had been going out of my mind with nerves since he asked me, rushing around to every store yesterday looking for the right thing to wear.

He hadn't changed his mind, which I had been afraid of... No, he had actually told me lastnight that he couldn't wait, he had said that just before I went over to Kats for the slumber party she had planned for the three of us since Mor was staying at her house. I had been a blushing mess when he stared me down in my pajamas in the hall before I left.

I still felt like I was in a dream... After wanting Az for so long I was just waiting for him to change his mind or something, it didn't feel real. "I think I might pass away," I muttered quietly as I stared back at my reflection in the mirror, yesterday, the long silky white dress had felt like a good idea, tonight... Not so much.

"You're going to be fine," Mor promised as she did some final touches on my hair, she looked drop dead gorgeous, I felt just plain and stupid next to her. It reminded me again that Azriel had too many options, why would he want me?

"You couldn't be more prepped you have nothing to be nervous about," Kat giggles softly, glancing over at us, she was still working on her makeup, clad in a skimpy black dress similar to Mors dark purple one. My cheeks reddened again, they had forced me to go get waxed bright and early, insisting that it was the best way to get ready for Azriel if I wanted to seal the deal and make him completely fall in love. I had questioned many of my decisions while I whimpered in pain when the woman at the spa had been ripping my pubes out.

The two of them together were a force to be reckoned with, because the wax was followed by a pedicure and a manicure and then a blowout from the hair salon across the street. I was already exhausted and the night hadn't even began. I had been telling them all day, that all of this was unnecessary that Az and I had known eachother for so long I didn't need to do all of this extra stuff to impress him. He already knew me. They insisted that this wasn't just for Azriel, it was for me, to help boost my confidence. I had tried to not take it as an insult, did I really come off as that insecure?

"I just- I don't know, I've been waiting for this for so long... And now I feel like I might just throw up," I breathed out pressing my hand to my stomach as I stared at myself in the mirror, I glanced at the clock again, and winced because Azriel would be here any moment. "I mean, have you guys even seen some of the women he goes for?! I'm like- I don't even know like the fucking pillsbury dough boy next to them. He's always going with supermodel looking women," I stared at my reflection again, letting out a heavy sigh.

"You're gorgeous Bee, shut it," Mor grins and fixes my hair one last time. "Plus," Kat tacks on after her, "They're only that skinny because they are sniffing and popping god knows what," Kat scrunched her nose a little with distaste. I looked down, I hated when they brought up Az's habits, or anything that related to them.

I clutched my little bag in my hand, feeling my phone buzz inside of it. My stomach flipped again and I swallowed hard, pulling my phone free from the little purse. im outside Short and sweet, typical Azriel. My stomach churned and twisted. "He's here?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'll see you guys there. Please don't watch us from the window," I grimaced, glancing out the window, my breath caught in my throat seeing Azriel leaning up against a black SUV, I figured Rhys must have got him a driver for tonight. He looked so, damn, good. He'd got a hair cut since last night, all his jewelry was on display, tanned skin gleaming in the setting sun, smoking of course, looked like a pre roll from here. My heart skipped a few beats in my chest, my stomach feeling like molten lava.

"I can't make any promises," Mor giggled softly, Kat along with her and I glanced back at the two of them who were a little too close for comfort. I briefly wondered if they had ever hooked up. Wouldn't have surprised me. I narrowed my eyes at their laughter, not finding anything funny.

"Okay I'll see you later," I repeat, my knees feeling weak as I left Kats apartment, into the warm evening air. Azriel's eyes were instantly on me, and he smiled, grinned actually as his eyes raked over my body, briefly settling on my nipples, the rings making them visible under the thin fabric of the dress, I had picked some heart ones out for tonight, I hoped Azriel would like them... If we even got that far.

I felt my face heating up, Az must be laughing at me in his head. I looked ridiculous, like I always did when Kat dressed me up like a doll.

"You look gorgeous," he was blushing now too, his throat bobbed slightly as he took my hand and pulled me in for a half hug, his large hand pressing into my lower back. I felt like I might pass out, like my knees might give out on me completely, they were already wobbling.

"So do you," I blurted, and the color on my cheeks deepened, causing him to let out a throaty laugh. It wasnt a lie, even though it sounded dumb. He was so damn beautiful, sexy, handsome... He looked like a tattooed god in the golden hour lighting.

"Do I?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. I was starting to wonder how I was going to survive the night, it had been, what, a few minutes? And I was already soaking wet, my body absolutely begging for him. I wondered if he could see it in my eyes.

I could tell he was a little nervous or maybe as much as me, despite how cool he was playing it.

"You always do," I had the fight the urge to fan myself, I was getting hotter by the moment. He just shook his head, his hair shaking with the motion, still smiling down at me before he gestured to the door and opened it for me to get in the back seat. It was quite roomy, definitely one of Rhys' family cars, it was modified on the inside, the seats created an L shape in the back of the car. I took a seat in one of them, taking in the small space. My lips parted slightly in surprise at the bouquet of green apple blow pops that was resting on the other seat, a Chanel ribbon wrapped around them with a small box next to it. Okay, I was definitely melting now, it was so hot in here, or maybe it was just me.

Azriel smiled sheepishly at my expression as he got into the car, picking up the lollipop bouquet and the small jewelry box, his eyes looking shy, this was new, he was never shy. Mysterious, quiet, maybe even a little RBF, but he never looked shy. "I just wanted to say thank you, for coming with me," his voice was quiet as the car began rolling forward now that we were both settled into the back seat. "And happy early birthday, I didnt forget," his lips twitched slightly as he extended the small box and lollipop bouquet. The fact that he remembered what we had first ever bonded over, it made my chest swell a little bit. Made me long for him even more. In so many more ways than just the physical.

"Az- you didnt have to-" my mouth felt so dry, I felt like I had lost the ability to speak. With everything going on recently, I myself had almost forgotten my twenty third birthday coming up next week.

"I wanted to," he pressed, leaning back as he waited, watching me expectantly. My fingers shook slightly as opened the box, a little breath escaping my lips at the sight of the little gold and pearl Chanel hoops that he had picked out for me. They looked expensive and it made my cheeks burn brighter. This definitely wasnt like Azriel, I couldnt remember a time he'd ever bought a woman jewelry. But he bought some for me. "They match your dress," he mused, and I felt his eyes raking over me again.

"Azriel- These are so pretty- I can't- They must have cost like at least three tattoos, I can't accept these-" I fumbled over my words, feeling naked under his gaze, he just shook his head, smiling a little bit. He looked, pleased.

"Let me put them on for you," he mumbled, his eyes boring into me as he leaned forward, so close, now. My breath hitched, his scent filling my nose, making my heart beat just a little bit faster. He brushed his finger over my neck as it travelled up to my ear, my toes curled at the feeling of his rough fingers against my soft skin. Carefully he used his other hand to hold the stud in place before popping the back off of my current earring. Azriel repeated the same motions on the other side, his tongue poking slightly between his lips in concentration. I watched his jaw flex slightly, my body felt so tense, my brain begged me for more, begged me to jump on him in the back of Rhys' family car.

He carefully took out one of the hoops and his fingers brushed my skin again as he clicked the first one on, being careful not to pinch my skin. I shivered a little bit feeling goosebumps rise on every inch of my body, Azriel smirked, his eyes meeting with mine before he carefully put the other earring on. Definitely going to pass out. It felt like my heart stopped every time our eyes met. "Just like how I imagined," he leans back to get a good look at me, licking his lips, heat pooled in my core, my toes curled against my will.

"Oh Az," I breathed out, hardly recognizing my reflection in his phone, he had pulled it out with the front camera facing me so I could see my new earrings. "You really shouldn't have," I breathed again, my cheeks were red, lips pinker than usual and puffy from how much I was biting them, my eyes were hazy with lust and everything else I felt for him. I was glowing a little bit, I looked... Nice. He cleared his throat, his eyes softening into something else besides just the lust that burned on the surface of both of our gazes, something deeper.

"But I did though," he said softly, and his eyes flicked down to my bouquet of green apple blow pops. "You better share later," he raised an eyebrow, smirking at me. "I didn't steal them this time I paid for those," he chuckled quietly. My heart warmed again at the memory. This was really happening, my Az... Taking me on a date. He was so charming this was the Azriel I knew, this was my Az.

"Of course I'll share with you Az, how couldn't I?" I laughed and squeezed the bouquet a little tighter, my heart felt so big, my chest felt so warm, I had never felt so whole. He smiled at me and just looked, savored every inch of me as if he too had been waiting for a while. Even though it wasnt nearly as long as I'd been waiting for him. I looked back at him, appreciating every inch of him, the few freckles that dusted his nose, making him look just slightly more boyish, his burning hazel eyes that could see right through me, his kissable lips, strong but still just soft enough jaw....

Something flashed in his eyes as if he remembered something. "Can I ask you something about Eris?" he says casually, but there was a certain edge I could feel in his tone. My stomach flipped slightly, and I leaned back.

"Sure," I nodded, nervously playing with the ribbon he had tied around my lollipop bouquet. I had no idea what to prepare for, had no clue what Az was about to ask, it had my stomach churning nervously.

"Did you.. Did Eris eat you out?" his tone was still even, question direct and forward as if he had every right to ask me that. My eyes widened at his bluntness. Jealousy?

"Azriel!" My cheeks blazed and I slapped his arm, my other hand tightly gripping my bouquet. He didnt say anything, only raised a brow expectantly still waiting for my answer, not a smile in sight. "No, he didnt-"

"Okay," he cuts me off there, smiling sheepishly at me now. "Ever since I walked in on you- Ive been obsessed with tasting you, I just had to know," he admits, licking his lips as if his mouth was watering at the thought. He had no shame, he wasnt embarrassed that he had been thinking about me like that, no, he was enjoying watching me squirm with every single confession.

My cheeks burned as I thought about him, thinking about tasting me. It had my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth, like it was weighing on the back of my throat, making it harder to breathe. Ive been obsessed with tasting you. The thought almost embarrassed me, Az wanted to taste me, so bad that he had been obsessed with the thought.

"You alright Bee?" his eyes were twinkling with amusement, and arousal. He was realizing his effect on me, how down bad I truly was for him.

"I just- Its hot in here-" And it was, my legs involuntarily squeezed together, Azriel didnt miss it.

"You have no idea what youre in for tonight Bee."

-

I didnt know how I had ended up here, a few celebratory glasses of champagne, admiring Azriels and some other artists works, a few hors d'oeuvres, and I was now on Azriels lap behind the shops booth.

I was a hot mess for sure, everyone in our group was giving us glances, maybe in disbelief. I didnt blame them, Azriels open PDA was almost alarming. We hadn't kissed yet, but I was on his lap, his large fingers were gripped tightly around my hips, and my body was practically buzzing with need for him. Covered in goosebumps, my pussy swollen and throbbing in the little white lace panties I had selected. At this point, after spending the entire night with Az, being on his arm all night like he promised, it was practically painful not to have him inside of me. Why weren't we going home yet? There had been fleeting, subtle touches all night, whispers in my ear that sent my toes curling in my high heels. Id wondered if he'd noticed that, he'd been stealing looks down at my freshly pedicured feet all night.

He was rock hard, I could feel his cock through his pants completely my thin dress not adding a thing to the barrier, I could feel him pressing against me, he felt so big. I was barely able to focus on anything else that was going on, the conversations they were having, that somehow Azriel was apart of. I didnt know how he was even able to engage. No one seemed to notice I hadn't said anything in ages, or if they did they didnt bring it to attention.

"I really am proud of you Az, this shits amazing for business," Rhys hadn't shut up about how pleased he was since the final voting had ended and the hosts had announced that they had won both categories Artist of the Year and Tattoo Parlor of the Year. Azriel was being modest, but they won because of him. Because of his talent.

"It was really nothing," he says casually, his voice was still low and gravelly like it had been all night, I wondered if it was because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It sure felt like it. He snaked his arm around me, spreading his hand across my lower stomach and pulling me further onto him, my legs spread slightly with the movement, my back falling flush against his chest. I let my head tilt back onto his shoulder, savoring the feeling. The bulge of his cock brushed lightly against my aching pussy, just barely, enough to drive me more mad and I cursed the stupid dress for getting in the way of me feeling him more. Should have worn leggings.

"Youre being modest," Cass laughs and glances over, he blushed when he noticed the way that Az was holding me and he quickly looked away. I blushed too, maybe this really was too much for the setting we were in, I couldn't bring myself to get up. I feel Az shrug behind me, his hand still pressing into my stomach, it felt like he was burning a hole straight through my dress.

I don't even hear what Rhys says next because my senses are reduced to Azriels lips brushing against my earlobe, the feeling of his hot breath on my skin. "I have a surprise for you," he whispers into my ear, the feeling sends more heat settling between my thighs, so dizzy.

"What?" I manage, my brain feeling so foggy, it was like Azriel was the only thing I'd ever thought of, the world around practically didnt exist. He chuckled, the sound sent more shivers down my spine.

"I said," his other hand slid over the top of my thigh, gently rubbing through the thin fabric. I suppressed a moan, my eyelids involuntarily fluttering shut. "I have a surprise for you," he repeated, the feeling of his voice against my ear making me squirm in his lap. "Bee you gotta stop that," he hissed softly under his breath, his arm tightening, pressing me further into him as if to still me. "There's people around," he mutters, my eyes flutter open again as if remembering for the first time, I make eye contact with Mor first and then Kat, I grimace at both of them, because they were watching us, giggling like school girls. I knew I wasnt going to live this down, right now I didnt care, nothing could ruin my bliss.

"Can we please go now Az? Ive been soo patient," I turned my head slightly, his nose and lips brushed against my cheek, I fought the urge to grind my hips against him, and failed miserably when I imagined his mouth between my legs and his nose pressed against my clit. He cursed quietly under his breath and sighed, this had to be torturing him as much as it was me.

"Think we'll skip drinks," Az said casually and he stood up, pulling me to stand with him, my body still flush with his, my cheeks reddened as I felt everyones eyes on us. "Bees tired, gotta get her back, you don't mind Rhys, do you?"

Rhys eyes flashed with something I didnt recognize as he observed Az and I. I looked away, feeling mortified, because obviously with the way we had been all over each other all night... Everyone knew what we were really going to do. The thought sent nerves flipping my stomach, suddenly I regretted rushing him. "That's fine," Rhys smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Cass who looked like he was holding his tongue. "You've done enough Az, you two should go enjoy your night,"

"Id hug you for being so damn good bro, but I don't want your little chub rubbing my leg," Cass snickered earning an initial glare from Azriel but it turned into a smirk. My cheeks burned, I wished I could fall into the floor.

"Yours might be thicker Cass, but mine will always be longer," Az shrugs, making Cassian laugh from his perch on the stool he was sitting on.

"You guys are disgusting," Mor shakes her head in disbelief. "Now I remember why I moved, no one wants to listen to a bunch of guys fighting over who's dick is bigger, y/n I suggest you take him away now before Rhys joins,"

"Mor everyone knows mines the biggest, I don't even bother arguing with them anymore," Rhys laughs and waves her off, cocky and arrogant as ever. My cheeks burned, I didn't bother to listen to her response.

Azriels hand found mine and interlaced our fingers as we bid our goodbyes to everyone, my chest swelled at the gesture. Az didnt forget to thank the hosts on the way out, I marveled at him, admiring how professional he could be, no one on the outside would ever know the demons he faced unless he let them.

"Thank you for that, Bee," he says when we are finally alone, the car was waiting just a little ways down, my hand felt slightly sweaty in his, my heart already pounding in my chest with anticipation for what was going to come. He squeezed a little, as if sensing my nerves, "I really think, with you on my arm," he blushed, as if his own words surprised him, he swallowed before finishing, "I could do anything." My cheeks blazed at his admittance, my stomach doing somersaults as he glanced over at me under his thick lashes, his eyes still hazy and lust filled, but soft too, like he finally returned those tender feelings I had for him for so long.

"Of-of course Az," it seemed like I hadn't been able to form a proper thought or sentence all night. Being with Azriel... It was mind numbing madness. I had never imagined I would be this much of a blubbering idiot. He didnt say anything else as he lead me back to the car we had arrived in.

"You didnt forget about your surprise did you?" he asks, leaning back into the back seat, Az had immediately pulled the partition when we got into the car which hadn't done anything to settle my nerves.

"Azriel where are we even going?" I ask softly, glancing out the window, we definitely weren't headed back to the apartment.

"You'll see," he said softly and leaned over, closer to me, I turned to face him, our lips nearly brushing. "I've been waiting to do this all night," he gently slides his thumb over my jaw before curling his fingers into the hair on the nape of my neck, my core was molten, my entire body screaming for him.

"What are you doing to me?" I breathe out dumbly, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest. He pulls me closer, our foreheads resting gently on one another's now.

"I've been asking myself the same thing about you since I walked in on you in my room," his lips brushed mine as he spoke, his eyes burning into mine, we were so so close. My heart pounded against my chest, "I can't stop thinking about you Bee, every time I get myself off I think about you. I'm going crazy, I can't stop thinking about what your little pussy tastes like, about making you moan for me," my breath hitches slightly at his vulgarity, his voice was low and gravelly making my toes curl. He finally pressed his lips against mine, his tongue slipping past my lips. I kissed him back my head spinning with the feeling, finally, finally he was kissing me again.

"Az I've wanted this for so long," I hum against him, feeling delerious, I let out a soft involuntary whimper as his rough, scarred fingers slowly slide over the back of my ankle and up my calf.

"I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time Bee," he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck, my eyes threatened to roll back into my head. "Should have been us from the very beginning," he slowly kisses over the tops of my breasts, his fingers tightening gently around the back of my knee. "I should have taken your virginity, been your first boyfriend, I should have showed all of this to you a long time ago," he breathed out, sliding his hand to the front of my knee and up the top of my thigh toward the place I needed him most. I exhaled, tilting my head back, my back arched slightly as his fingers brushed against my clothed cunt. "I'm gonna make up for all that though," he mumbled gruffly before slipping my panties aside, I gasped at the feeling of Azriels scarred fingers on my soft bare pussy lips for the first time.

"Az," I whimpered quietly, my hips grinding against his fingers, he cursed under his breath, slowly sliding his middle finger into my opening. I gasped, gripping his shoulders, "Azriel," I breathed out again as he wiggled his long finger inside of me in a come hither motion, hitting my g spot over and over.

"Fuck you're soaking for me," he breathed out, sucking the skin over my collar bone lightly, the palm of his hand ground against my clit as he expertly finger fucked me without even pulling his fingers in and out. My dress was pushed up past my knees, my breathing heavy and ragged as I held onto him, every bump or crack in the road that the car hit made me moan harder. He didn't stop until I came, cursing quietly under his breath as my body shook lightly. He had already made me cum more than anyone else I had to ever been with, and we hadn't even fucked yet. I tried to ignore that his skills probably came from lots of practice. "We're here baby," he slowly pulled his finger from my pussy, a whoosh of breath left my lips at the new feeling of emptiness. My head spun as he sucked my release off of his finger, his eyes closing as he did, humming softly as if he had been waiting so long to know what I tasted like. It made my mouth go dry, made the breath catch in my throat.

-

So damn good. She tasted so good. Azriel couldn't wait to get her upstairs, bury his face between her legs and fully taste her. He opens his eyes again, licking his lips at the sight of her after orgasm hazy eyes, wet lips, flushed cheeks and chest. "Come on," he nods toward the car door.

"Where are we?" she manages to get out scrambling to straighten her dress out, her brows crinkling together slightly, it made his heart swell, made him smile.

"I told you I had a surprise," he shrugged easily and opened the door to the car and held it for her, watching with endearment as she collected the bouquet of lollipops he had gifted her and the small box that had contained the earrings. He smiled as her eyes widened looking up at the tall fancy hotel before them, despite how late it was, a doorman opened the door to let them inside. She waited in a cushy lobby chair while he checked in, and he couldn't help but keep glancing back at her.

"Az this is ridiculous seriously. This room must have cost a fortune," she says as they finally entered the room on one of the top floors of the hotel. He let the door shut behind them, his eyes scanning over the room, a king bed, amazing view, a bottle of champagne on ice in a golden colored bucket, two glasses beside it.

"Rhys asked me what I wanted yesterday for all of my hard work on the event, think he felt bad cus he kinda laid into me the other day. I think he expected me to ask for money... I asked him to get me a room in the best hotel in the city for tonight," he smiled shyly, his cheeks growing red with the admittance. It was embarrassing hearing it out loud, he didn't know how to feel about his behavior. All of this was new for him, and with Bee? He didn't have time to process anyway, it all felt too good, too right, being here with her.

"Az... You didn't have to do that," she twists to look at him, her eyes glowing, her cheeks just as red as his. Azriel knew she wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable, not for years at least, maybe once... Long ago, when his family was still around.

"I wanted to. I wanted tonight to be.. Special," he almost couldn't believe himself, couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He couldn't recall ever doing anything like this for anyone. He had never really been one for romantics. Lately he was starting to reconsider it, the look on Bees face made him feel so whole inside. And she deserved this, she deserved a night to be spoiled and shown that he did see her now too. He saw everything, saw the way she had been there for him all those years, stood by him, no matter how many fucked up phases he went through she was always there.

"It already was Azriel," she breaths, twisting around to look at him again, she was standing in front of the bed now, her eyes were darting around nervously, her arms wrapping self consciously around her stomach. "You didn't have to waste your bonus on this," she mumbled softly, her cheeks still so pink as if she thought she wasn't worth any of this, little did she know she was worth so much more.

"Don't be shy now Bee, it's not so long ago you were a moaning mess in my bed, I've already seen you naked," his eyes travel over her, stopping for a moment at the tops of her breasts, pushed up by her arms against her body. His cock was aching, so fucking hard... It had been all night, he had been adjusting himself all night to hide his massive hard on. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off of his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, his head eyes never leaving her, blazing into her skin.

"But Az I-" she starts, he could see her breath catch, her chest rising and falling. Goosebumps already covered her skin and he hadn't even touched her yet since they entered the room.

"Shh.. Strip," he commands softly unzipping his pants because he couldn't take how tight they had gotten any longer, his cock had been aching all night. He sight with relief at the release of tension, but still didn't pull his pants fully off, waiting and watching her. She blinked, exhaling softly, her arms slowly dropped to her sides but she didn't move to slip her dress off. How could she not see how beautiful she was? "Go on," he coaxed, his jaw flexing as his eyes raked over every inch of her.

"Az... I'm like- I can't just... Strip," her voice caught in her throat and he smiled at her, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her.

"I'm going to teach you that you can do a lot of things you think you can't do," his voice was husky, laced with desire as he took a step toward her. "Go on Bee, take it off for me," he breathed out and she blushed deeper, closing her eyes and leaning down to pull her dress completely over her head. Azriel let out a shaky breath at the sight before him, only her heels and her white lace panties remained, the tight fabric showing the outline of her cunt. His eyes rest on her nipples then, his mouth watering at the sight of her nipple rings cute little hearts around her perfect little nipples. She tries to cover herself again, he sucks his teeth, shaking his head at her and closes the distance between them holding her arms at her sides so she couldn't cover her body.

"You look so good to me," he assured, knowing how she could be, the phase she went through that one summer where she wouldn't eat. He had picked up the pieces, taken care of her like she had done for him so many times.

She blushed again, looking down at her feet, he followed her gaze, cute little french tips that he loved so much. His cock throbbed again at the sight. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up so her eyes would meet his. "I mean it," his eyes bore into hers, he let his emotions show, let his walls come down a bit. He wanted her to know how much she truly meant to him. "You are everything Bee," he slides his hands over her ass and the bottom of her thighs scooping her up and placing her on the bed, he let out a heavy breath at the sight of her on the bed.

"Az-" she breathed, her eyes widening as she looked up at him, his eyes were dark with lust as he untied the ribbon around her blow pop bouquet, the lollipops all falling onto the table with thudding sounds.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his gaze not wavering as he looked down into her eyes past them, as if he was looking into her soul. It made her body wriggle beneath him.

"Of course I do Az but-" she swallowed her words, her breath catching in her throat as he put one of the sleeping masks that had been provided by the hotel over her eyes covering her world in darkness. "Oh.." she breathed out softly, her back slightly arching as he slid his hands up her arms and tied her wrists with the ribbon, tying them to the headboard of the bed. He figured she couldn't be worried about what her body looked like if she couldn't see. He stood back for a minute, marveling at her, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath admiring the high heels she was still wearing and her wet cunt, soaking through the fabric of her panties.

All tied up and blind folded in front of him... He had never seen anything so beautiful. Her arms were pinned above her head, her chest on full display for him. He let out a throaty long breath before he knelt on the bed in front of her, carefully undoing the straps on her heels, his rough fingers brushing the soft skin on her ankles, as he pulled them off and discarded them on the floor one by one, she whimpered, pulling her hands against the restraint. "I really have been so blind," he muttered before pressing a kiss to the sole of her foot, her back arched again, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Az.. Please.." She begged, her voice so needy and desperate it was driving him even more crazy. "I've been wanting this for so long..." she whimpered, the sound made his cock twitch in his pants.

He placed more open mouthed kisses on the soles of her feet, and the insides of her ankles humming softly to himself at the sweet smell of her skin. She was practically shaking already, he could see how wet she was already, her juices soaking through her panties. "Need to get those off," he mumbled softly to himself reaching forward and gripping her panties, tugging them down her legs, his fingers sliding all the way down the outsides of her legs as he pulled them off.

Why had he denied them both this for so long? He couldn't understand how he had been so blind.

An involuntary groan left his lips at the sight of her bare cunt, freshly waxed, smooth, glistening wet with her arousal and her first release in the car. "You are perfect," he breathed before he finally gave in to his desire to taste her, no matter how much he wanted to keep teasing her he had to have his mouth on her now.

He placed an open mouthed kiss over her nipple, sucking her pierced flesh into his mouth, making her moan again and causing him to grind his achingly hard cock in his pants against the bed.

"You've got nothing to be insecure about, you're so fucking perfect," he moans softly, wrapping his mouth around her other pierced nipple. "You're so lucky you got these done before you were mine," he muttered against her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

"Yours?" she asks breathlessly, her lips parting in surprise, he wished he could see her eyes, wished she could see the way he was looking at her. He figured it was probably better she didn't anyway. Even if they were kind of past the point of going back now.

"Yes, mine," he mumbles, pressing more soft kisses to her skin, between her breasts and down the middle of her stomach to her belly button. "All mine," he didn't have time to think about whether or not he would regret any of it later. He just needed her to know how he felt about her, how every touch and kiss made him want to claim her even more.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that for so long," she breathed, and he could see the bottom of her cheeks redden under the sleeping mask at her confession. His chest tightened slightly, he just hoped he could live up to her expectations. To whatever standards she held for a relationship. He figured giving up his event bonus was a good start, he wouldn't think about how much cocaine he could have bought with the cash Rhys must have spent on this room. It didn't even matter, the look on Bees face when she'd seen the view had made it so worth it.

"Now I'll show you," he grunted quietly, pressing another wet kiss just below her belly button. She shivered again and he couldn't help himself, he placed his hand on her inner thigh, spreading gently and he slowly rubbed his thumb on the outside of her dripping wet cunt, his rough skin gliding easily.

She whimpered, pleaded, begged him for more.

He was slow, gentle as he licked up and down between her folds, weaving his tongue in and out.

-

It was almost blinding, the feeling of Azriels lips and tongue on my throbbing swollen pussy was making stars dance in my eyes. With every suck, lick, flick of his tongue my hips rotated, ground against his tongue, I tugged, trying to get my hands free so I could run my fingers through his tousled hair, pull his face onto my pussy, wrap my legs around his head. The ribbon didn't budge, the more I fought it only made my wrists ache worse, I barely noticed it as my pussy pulsed with each mini orgasm that shuttered through my body.

I didn't know how long it had been. I couldn't see the clock with my sight cut off from the sleeping mask. The darkness only seemed to make me feel everything else so much more. I needed his cock, I needed it so fucking bad. I needed to feel him fill me up, my pussy ached for him, I felt like I had never needed anything more in my life.

I didn't know it was possible for a man to make me feel like this. Of course. Of course it was Az. I broke out in another soft cry, my hips trying to pull away from his relentless licks and sucks, my clit was so damn sensitive. Orgasm after orgasm, I was about to start begging him to stop, it felt too good, I almost couldn't take it anymore.

"I need your cock," I whined again, pulling relentlessly at the ribbons biting into my wrists. Az had tied them tight enough they wouldn't budge. I wasn't even surprised anymore at the lack of shyness, the total lack of self control that I now had underneath his absolute trance.

"Be patient," he chuckled softly against me, the vibration of it sending another soft whimper through my body, he made little circles with his tongue, sending me writhing again he held me still flicking his tongue on the sensitive skin between my cunt and my ass.

It felt like it had been hours that he had been eating my pussy. Realistically it had probably been more like forty five minutes, but I had no clue with this damn blind fold on. My body was shaking, weak, spent, and he hadn't even started fucking me yet. Azriel had been talking me through every single orgasm, big and small. 'Good girl,' 'Cum for me,' 'Look at that pretty little cunt leaking for me.' His voice had been so low and gravelly each time, that husky tone that was new to me and definitely this hungry, lust filled Azriel was my new favorite version.

"I can't be patient anymore Az, please, let me see you," I begged, my legs kicking slightly, as I exercised any freedom I still had.

"You have been a good girl so far, keep it up and I might untie you too," he chuckles lowly, slipping the sleeping mask off of my eyes, they were already open, wide open, I let out another whimper at the sight of him. So gorgeous my heart almost stopped, Azriel...

My Azriel. Mine.

His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly puffy from how he had been eating me up for so long, his nose and his cheeks still glistening with me, his hair was a mess, falling over his eyes a little bit. His eyes. They were so dark with desire his normally hazel eyes almost looked black, I knew he needed me as much as I needed him, my stomach churned, heat pooling at the base of my belly all over again.

"Az please I need you," I repeated another small whimper leaving my lips, I couldn't believe I had been reduced to begging. I'd have time to be embarrassed, right now, I didn't care about anything besides him and I. Finally knowing what it felt like for him to fuck me after all the years I'd fucked myself and pictured his face, his hands, his shirtless body by the pool.

"Oh fuck baby," he groaned quietly, finally tugging off the rest of his clothes, his hard tanned cock slapped his stomach, precum leaking deliciously from his tip. I whimpered at the sight of him, tugging at my restraints again, the ribbon was starting to burn, it felt like it was cutting my skin, I knew it would bother me later but now I didn't have a care in the world.

He untied me as if he knew it must be starting to hurt, or maybe my wrists were turning red, I didn't know because he wrapped his large hand around both of my wrists, replacing the ribbon with them, pinning me to the bed. He held my hands so I couldn't put my hands on him, I desperately wanted to, knowing Az he wanted to be in control.

My back arched as he used his free hand to rub the tip of his cock slowly up and down my opening, the anticipation made my legs shake.

"Mm gonna fuck you raw baby that's my pussy," he gently slaps his cock against my cunt, making me cry out, my body flinching.

Finally, he slowly pushed into me, every inch making me melt deeper into the bed, my body falling into a blissful state. "Oh Az," I breathed out against his lips when our bodies finally connected completely. Our eyes met, and each thrust felt like him telling me how much he loved me, how much he needed me, appreciated me for standing by him.

I didn't hold back, I let my voice ring out, calling his name as he fucked me into absolute oblivion. He was panting over me, little beads of sweat forming on his brow as he concentrated.

"Mm you're so fucking tight," his gravelly voice slurred, his eyes burning into mine as he slammed his cock into me over and over.

"Az yes," I moaned loudly, my entire body shaking with another mind numbing orgasm, my toes curled, throat felt completely dry as I moaned again. Tears of pleasure welled up in the corners of my eyes as I came again on his cock.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and he came inside me. I didn't care about that either, I instantly scratched and clawed at his back when he finally let my hands free, trying to pull him closer, deeper as he came.

I lifted my eyes, staring into his as he rode out his own orgasm, my lids felt so heavy with the exhaustion of our activities, I could have fell asleep right there when he finally stilled, his forehead resting on mine.

I had never known sex could be like this. So blissful. So intimate. I felt like I knew Azriel on another level... And I knew I would remember this night for the rest of my life.

"I-I-" Azriel started, his face flushed as our eyes burned into each others and he opened his mouth again, I held my breath, my heart felt like it was standing still, listening with me. "I... I'm glad we did this, thank you for coming out with me," he breathed, my cheeks warmed, I knew he was going to say something else and held it back.

We had said it before, told each other that we loved each other, for me it had always meant something more.

"I love you Bee, happy birthday," my heart stopped as he grinned at me like he always did, I had just blown out the seventeen candles on my birthday cake. Our friends surrounded us, my cheeks reddened when I noticed Rhys watching us.

"Love you too Az," I breathed my heart feeling like it would leap out of my chest. I wished I had the courage to tell him. Wished I had the courage to say how much I loved him as more than a friend, how much he truly meant to me.

He gave me a wrapped squishy package and I tore the paper open, my heart nearly stopping as I held the hoodie up in the air.

He made it, I could tell, it was black with bits of fabric sewn onto it to make a bee. And a bees shadow. My stomach churned, my cheeks warming again.

"Az I love it so much," my breath felt like it was caught in my throat.

"I'm glad you like it, happy seventeenth," he smiled sheepishly and turned back around toward some girl Cassian had brought. My chest tightened.

Maybe someday I would get the courage to tell him.

-

a/n: IM SVCREAMING AND CRYINF AND DROOLING

taglist: @smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog

[typewritersensuite]

𝙄𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨

word count: 1.5+k

warnings: longing lesbian love, fae girlfriend being literally so hot, shes like 5'9/5'10, she's a simp for you, blood play!!, pussy eating!!, she's dom😌, she's everything and you're just human, dirty talk.

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♡Living in a dead end village filled with plain men and a boring future was no way to live. You knew this. You woke up to this life on the daily. It was grating and exhausting pretending to care about courting any of the men that existed around you. From their beards to their breath, they repulsed you completely.

♡The women were always something to marvel at, yet the shaming eyes of the village chief forbid you from ever allowing you to be yourself. To be free. The longing glances you casted at the women were only ever met with a harsh gaze or a sad look. You could never act out on your desires. On who you truly were.

♡So one day, you packed your bag contained only the necessities that you needed. And left, heading into the dark forest that bordered on the edge of your village.

♡There were so many stories about the forest, how it was dark and enchanted. How monsters roamed. How faeries lived there, that there entire kingdom was hidden deep in the woods. But it didn't scare you. It excited you, it gave you a chance of a promising future something you were desperate for. It also meant to shaming eyes and a life of freedom to be who you were meant to be.

♡Eventually after hours of travelling through tall grass, marshy lawns, thorns and mangled trees, your exhaustion hit. After taking a drink of water from your flask, you rested against a trunk of a tree and soon were lulled into a peaceful sleep.

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♡When you awoke, you were no longer outside. Instead you were wrapped in silk white bedsheets that clung to you like a second skin. Pillows so soft they were practically pleading your name to lay your head back upon them. The room was incredibly... beautiful.

♡Black floor boards and golden fluffy rugs, a large vanity that was covered in perfumes and other strange bottles. A large mirror in the corner opposite to the open window that swayed the golden curtains. Swords mounted along the walls and books scattered around.

♡But before you could re catch your breath, the last bit of your oxygen was stolen from your lungs from the ethereal beauty that walked in.

♡Long, black silky hair, a pale face and golden brown eyes. All matched with a beautiful green silk dressed that hugged her body and made her look like a Goddess. The beautiful iridescent wings on her back shone in the sunlight and reflected on the walls almost like stained glass.

♡She smiles brightly at you and flutters over to you, her soft fingers closing your jaw. "you're awake." She coos softly.

♡And you turn into a puddle, a woman- a Fae so beautiful was here cooing over you. Her skin was so soft and her eyes were so impossibly cute.

♡"My name is Morgana, I'm the captain of the guards. You're lucky I caught you, you were almost swallowed whole by a Naga! It would be a shame to see your beautiful face torn up."

♡An absolute puddle. She thought you were beautiful.

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♡After spending a few months beside Morgana, you realised you had a lot in common. The passion to always learn, the need to always explore, the appreciation for beauty. And of course a mutual yearning.

♡It wasn't forbidden in the kingdom, infact it was a normal. The reason why you would cast each other longing glances was because you were mortal.

♡Morgana was already attached to you, and she wasn't ready to cross a line where she would forever be yours, just for you to leave her with your death. It wasn't fair.

♡Her kind often had one partner for life, yes they could be polygamous but every Fae had one partner. A life long best friend that they were always bound to, that they would always serve and crave. And Morgana hated that her chosen lover was you. A mortal.

♡So while you both shared a bed, tangled in sheets and limbs with soft words and adoration oozing off you, she would kiss you softly. Whispering about how long she had waited for you, how you were the most important thing to ever exist in her eyes.

♡When the morning rose, she would press a kiss to your forehead to wake you up before she fluttered away on her adventures.

♡Morgana was determined to find something, anything to keep you by her side for as long as she lived. She refused to live without you. She simply couldn't bare the thought of it.

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♡A few more months had passed and late into the evening after you had cooked dinner, you gaze out the window worriedly waiting for Morgana. But soon the beating of wings is heard and the front door is slammed open.

♡When you turn to go to her, she rushed towards you and presses her lips towards yours. And you see a peak of heaven, a true love, a true freedom. She moves her lips against yours desperately, her nails digging into your hips almost pleading for you to let her explore your mouth.

♡And who are you to deny this goddess that your adore so dearly. You open my mouth as you move your jaw against hers, your hands catching in her beautiful black hair. Her tongue eagerly searches your mouth, exploring the land and claiming it as hers.

♡Soon you two break away heaving, a line of spit connecting you. She gazes at you with desperate eyes, searching your eyes to understand her.

♡"What is it?" You breath out, you heart racing, terrified about what could occur.

♡"I found it. A way to keep you as mine forever. But my little seedling, it comes at a cost," she murmurs back. And when Morgana sees your questioning gaze, she steps forward and cups your cheek.

♡"There are a few things to seal this. But the cost is that you will forever be bound to me. More than most fae partners are. It means body and soul you are mine. Under my control, my whim." She whispers as she leans down and presses her forehead.

♡"It was yours from the start." You utter out, closing your eyes and embracing the moment. The closeness.

♡"Then, you have to trust me." She whispers again, stroking a strand of hair from your face.

♡"You never have to ask that, my love. I trust you with every breathe that leaves my lungs and I love you with every beat of my heart." You murmur.

♡She smiles, "come, let's go to bed." She coos as she tugs your small hand and leads you to the bedroom.

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♡Within seconds, you're laid on the bed. Your clothes have been torn off by Morgana and her skillful knife. Tearing them off like you were a present and you were a gift she had longed for.

♡Her soft hands massage your doughy thighs, while her lips press soft kisses to your neck. Marking and nipping down your neck to your collarbone until she reaches the valley of your breasts.

♡Her hands move and begin to gently rub your clit all while she kisses along to your breasts until she takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks it. She moves her fingers faster in a circular motion, while her tongue circles your nipple. Her eyes fluttering closed in delight at the sounds you make.

♡She kisses along your breasts to reach your other nipple, still circling your clit. She applies more pressure before she taps it, smirking at the squeak you let out.

♡She breaks away from your breasts as she straddles you naked. Her breasts heavy and beautiful. She takes her golden blade and cuts her soft delicate skin at the top of her left breast. "Drink." She commands in a breathy voice.

♡And soon enough you sit up and latch onto the cut, you drink her golden blood. Tasting the blood of your beloved, allowing yourself to be bound to her forever. You pull away and press a small, soft kiss to the cut.

♡When you gaze up at her, she normally coffee brown eyes are now black. Her pupils dilated with lust and she pins you back down onto the bed.

♡She kisses down your navel and stomach before marvelling at you heat, her pink lips almost drooling at the sight as her eyes devour the beauty before her.

♡"Such a perfect cunt. S mine. You know that right? You'll only ever spread your legs for me. This pussy is mine. This body? Mine. You? Mine." She utters out through clenched teeth before she leans forward and licks a long stripe between your folds.

♡She soon attaches herself to your clit, suckling on the sweetest nectar known. Her hands squeezing your breasts and flicking your nipples as she feasts on the delight between your legs.

♡She moves a hand down to between your legs and works two fingers into your tight pussy. She moans at how warm you are, how tight you are. She nibbles on your clit before kissing it and licking it like she was dehydrated.

♡You can't help the squeaks that leave your throat, all the noises becoming sweet music to Morgana's ears. She scissors her fingers in you, rubbing against your gspot as she suckles hard on your clit.

♡You thrash as you cum hard, and after you lay limply. Morgana smiles softly at the slight. She slides her fingers out and licks them clean.

♡"My beloved, rest. I'll clean you up. You were magnificent. A beauty that I have waited forever for and one that destroyed all my expectations of beauty. You are bound to me, my most gorgeous love." She coos to you as your eyes close and you fall into the best slumber of your life.

╚══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════╝

[roseofdarknessblog]

Family gathering (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 3 140

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: You and Levi finally introduce your baby to the rest of the family.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Family gathering

Being back in the tea shop after giving birth felt even better than you expected. Even if you only came to visit Levi for short periods of time. But it was enough time to make sure that he really had everything under control even without your help. At least for a couple more weeks.

Being new parents wasn't easy, not even the slightest, but you were adjusting. Learning every single day, that having a tiny little human living under your roof was about changing or adjusting one too many things.

Despite that, Levi and you couldn't be happier. In your newborn daughter, you saw the reason why you fought so hard all those years. She truly was a beautiful representation of the future you wanted humanity to have.

„I think they know something is up,“ Falco said, when he walked into the kitchen, that was at the back of the tea shop. Here, you used to bake many of your sweet and savory goods, which were then sold alongside the best tea in the whole town.

„Yeah, probably. But that's fine, something really is up,“ you said, smiling at the boy.

Until now, only he, Gabi, Onyankopon, and Yelena knew about the little Ackerman baby you and Levi welcomed into this world seven weeks ago. Nobody else from your friends knew you gave birth, or even that you were pregnant in the first place. You and Levi decided, that it would be better not to tell anyone and let things unfold on their own.

However, now it was finally time to introduce your precious little miracle to the rest of your family. To all your beloved friends, who fought alongside you these past few years. To the people, who helped you create a safe world to bring your daughter into.

„Is everybody here already?“

Falco nodded, gently taking your daughter's hand. She loved him so much and lately always smiled when they were together. „Yeah, they're talking, having tea and sweets but you can definitely tell they suspect something. Mainly because you're not there.“

„I think we should go see them, right?“ you asked your daughter in a sweet voice, stroking her chubby little cheeks. In some way, they very much reminded you of Levi's. Just like her silky black hair, her blue-grey eyes, or her cute little nose. She was the sweetest little copy of your husband in the cutest ways possible. „You're gonna love them, darling. And they're gonna love you.“

When the little girl looked at Falco and smiled, both of you smiled right back at her with so much love. The boy truly loved her as if she was his little sister.

„Hey, Y/N! Come and join us finally!“ Jean screamed for you from the tea shop, making you chuckle and kiss the top of your daughter's head, who tried grabbing the collar of your shirt.

„I'm coming, settle down. All of you!“ you called back, taking one last deep breath. Falco walked back to the shop before you, giving you one more moment alone.

The moment felt almost surreal. Holding your baby and getting ready to introduce her to so many important people. Not even that long ago, you would never even dream about doing something so magical.

„Now, I have a very special surprise for all of you. Can you close your eyes?“ you asked them before opening the door.

When you walked into the main part of the shop, everyone was there – Armin, Connie, Jean and Mikasa. Even Reiner, Annie, and Pieck came, along with Gabi, Yelena, and Onyankopon who didn't even need to close their eyes. Together with Falco and your husband, who was smiling at you ever so slightly.

„What do you think? What is this big surprise?“ you asked them excitedly. But before anybody said a word, your daughter let out a loud cry to get everyone's attention, before she smiled up at you. Almost as if she knew what was happening. „Okay, I guess it's not a surprise anymore. Open your eyes,“ you said, smiling happily at them.

The awe on everyone's face was so worth keeping this whole thing private until now. Connie and Armin looked at you as if they'd never seen a baby in their life before. But that was probably because of their last visit when you were five months along and still barely showing. Under the right pieces of clothing, they had zero chance of noticing anything. And now, half a year later, you were standing in front of them with a baby in your arms.

„So... we called you all here today, because we wanted you to meet someone very special,“ you said, looking over at Levi. With a slightly pained expression, he stood up from his wheelchair and walked a few steps to stand next to you. „She'll be two months old in a couple of days. I hope you can forgive us that we kept such a big thing a secret until now. It was...“

„We wanted to make sure everything will turn out okay,“ Levi said when you couldn't find the right words. „And then we wanted to soak up every little moment with her. Just the three of us,“ he added, wrapping one of his arms around your waist. It was a gesture full of love and also a way to help him stand more securely because of his leg.

It almost seemed that everybody was too shocked to speak. The first one to stand up and come up to you was Jean. He smiled, looking at both you and Levi. Then his soft light-brown eyes wandered to your baby, looking her over very carefully. He offered her one of his fingers, which the little girl took with such excitement, seeming happy that she was seeing a new face.

„She's beautiful, Captain, Y/N,“ he said proudly and with a happy smile.

„Oi, where did you get that baby, Y/N? When me and Armin were here a few months back, you surely weren't pregnant,“ Connie shouted, hurrying to you as well.

„I can assure you, that I was pregnant at the time. Five months pregnant, to be more specific. I just hid it too well,“ you chuckled, stroking your baby's hair. Her eyes were wide open with curiosity while her tiny hands were playing with Jean's fingers.

„Was she, Captain?“ Connie asked Levi, not wanting to believe you.

„Where do you think we got a baby that looks like me if she didn't give birth to it?“ Levi questioned him, his brows furrowed. He may looked annoyed with all the commotion, but by the tone of his voice, it was obvious, that he was enjoying having them all here.

„She really does look like you, Captain,“ Armin said, coming to stand between Jean and Connie.

Behind him, Mikasa followed a little shily. You gave her a warm smile and motioned to her, to come even closer. „Would you like to hold her? You're blood-related, after all,“ you said to her, looking over at Levi, who nodded at your words.

She seemed a little hesitant but eventually nodded in agreement. After showing her, how to safely hold the baby, she took her from you and carefully cradled your daughter against her chest. The little girl looked confused when she first looked up at Mikasa, but after she grabbed a strand of her hair everything was okay.

„She's adorable, congratulations to you both,“ Mikasa said, smiling at both you and Levi warmly. You've barely seen her since the Rumbling, because she went back to Paradis, so her presence right now was even more precious. „What's her name?“

You knew this question would come. And you were preparing yourself to answer it without too much emotion. But suddenly... when they were all here, standing around you and waiting for your answer... it felt almost impossible to explain the meaning of your daughter's name without making everybody way too emotional.

She got her name after a person, who was very dear to you and Levi. And to all of the 104th as well. It was a person, who was supposed to be here today with all of you as well. And also the person, thanks to who you got one more chance to fight the Rumbling and win.

„We named her after Hange,“ Levi said in a calm voice, seeing you struggling a little. „Zoe. Zoe Ackerman.“

„The meaning of her name is... life,“ you added in a quiet voice, reaching out your hand and stroking your baby's back. „I guess it's more than fitting, don't you think?“ Feeling your eyes welling up with tears, you looked at your friends. A wild range of emotions was seen on their faces – sadness, surprise, and also happiness.

Armin was the first one to speak up, leaning closer to Mikasa and taking the baby's hand, shaking it very gently. Such a sweet gesture made all of you chuckle. „It's more than fitting,“ he smiled at her warmly. „Nice to meet you, Zoe. I'm sure we'll be very good friends once you grow up a little.“

The sweet tone in which Armin talked to your baby melted your heart completely. Feeling unimaginable happiness, you looked over at Levi and kissed his cheek. The way he was watching the scene right in front of you, was more than beautiful. His expression was relaxed, almost completely pain-free. The look in his eyes was soft and loving towards all the people standing around you and introducing themselves to your baby in the funniest, yet most adorable way possible. She was all smiles, while she was looking around and taking in all the new people.

So despite looking so much like Levi, she surely didn't get her personality from him.

Connie was the one, who made her the most excited. Mainly, when he held her in a way that she was able to pull Jean's hair. But he truly couldn't be angry with her for even a second.

„Hey, you three. Come on, don't be shy,“ you said to Reiner, Annie, and Pieck who were still standing a little to the side, only watching the others happily fuss around your baby, who was making a lot of loud excited noises.

Once they were your enemies, they wanted you dead. Now they were here amongst your closest friends and family. In a way, you forgave them for almost everything. After having a couple of difficult talks, mainly with Reiner, you gained a new perspective of them all. And through that, things between you and them started changing. Gabi and Falco also helped a bunch, too.

„It's okay, we wanted you here and we're happy that you came,“ you said to them, stroking Reiner's arm and smiling at the girls.

„In a twisted kind of way, but we're all here thanks to you, too,“ Levi said to them, his grip around your waist tightening. His knee was starting to trouble him after standing by your side for a few minutes.

So after you made sure, that your baby was truly in good hands, you helped Levi walk outside the tea shop and sit down on a bench right next to the door. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth when he finally sat down and took the weight off his left leg.

„Good? Are you okay?“ you asked a bit worriedly, sitting down next to him. While your left hand started rubbing his back comfortingly, you leaned closer and kissed his cheek.

„Yeah, sure,“ he mumbled, taking a couple of deep breaths to ease the pain.

„It went well, didn't it? They were all so surprised and happy,“ you chuckled, resting your head against his. The voices and laughter from inside were heard pretty clearly, so you didn't have to worry. „And right now, they have probably a couple of minutes before she starts crying. Either because she'll be hungry or because she won't be able to find us.“

Levi smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again, to keep you close. Despite the pain, he still seemed relaxed and content with the way today turned out. Everybody's reaction made it certain, that you and Levi did the best thing when you kept your pregnancy private.

„It's all so bittersweet. Having so many of them here and still missing a bunch of people,“ Levi said, his fingers gently stroking your side.

„They are here with us. In a different kind of way, but still.“

You could see all of your fallen friends and comrades in your baby's eyes and in her every smile. All the things they did and for what they sacrificed their lives, made it possible for little Zoe to be born. You and Levi were grateful to them every single day. For their bravery, resilience, and determination to make the world a better place.

Hange, Erwin, Sasha, Miche, Nanaba, Nifa, Furlan, Isabel, Moblit, Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther... Eren...

All of them and many, many more gave their lives a long time ago, so you and your friends could have this life. In one way or another. Looking back, there probably wasn't a way to save them. To spare them from death. All you could do was continue living your best life and honor them by being happy.

„Who would have thought, really? That we would make it here all the way from the Underground,“ you sighed, running your fingers through Levi's hair lovingly.

„We made it far, that's true. And...“ he shrugged, smirking at his own words, „I'm kind of excited to see what's next, now that we have our little girl. She's going to turn our lives upside down so many times.“

„That's what parenthood is about, right?“ you chuckled, grabbing his free hand and holding it tight. „We're doing good. Learning and making mistakes. I'm so glad that everything worked out in the end and that we have her.“ Having a baby was an adventure like no other. In the end, all the sleepless nights were worth it, when you saw your little angel smile at you, with her eyes full of innocence and pure love.

„Just wait until she starts walking and running around. That's gonna be a disaster.“

„We'll just have to keep up with her.“ You gently took Levi's chin and turned his head, so you could see his face.

He was still very handsome, no scars or a missing eye could change that. For you, he was the one and only. Since you were a teenager to this very day. All those years, it was Levi. And you were more than sure, that it would stay like this for the rest of your life. Nothing and nobody would be able to change your mind, because Levi was all you'll ever need – with all of his disabilities, which sometimes still made him feel a little self-conscious or worried, that he wasn't good enough for you. He was more than enough and you never failed to remind him that. A day never went by without you reminding him, just how thankful you were for his love and his presence in your life.

„I love you,“ Levi said, leaning in for a kiss. His soft lips pressed against yours, making you forget about everything else.

„That's really good to know because I love you too.“ With a smile, you brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead and kissed the tip of his nose. „I'm proud to call you mine and be yours.“

His sweet little smile had a very strong effect on you every single time you got the chance to see it. Mainly, when said smile reached his eyes and made him look so carefree and young. Seeing him like that, nobody would be able to tell how many horrors he had to suffer through.

Levi rested his forehead against yours, reaching for your left hand. He brushed his thumb over your wedding band, finding your lips in another sweet and love-filled kiss. Time seemed to stop around you at that moment.

But only until you heard a loud cry from inside the tea shop. Just moments later, Connie hurried outside, eagerly trying to return your baby into your arms. „Guess she doesn't like when someone pinches her cheeks. But they're so adorable and chubby, I couldn't resist.“

„They remind me of someone else's cheeks,“ Mikasa added, standing in the open door, her eyes focused on Levi with a playful smirk. You bit down on your lower lip, trying not to laugh, while Connie was grinning so hard, he had to turn away.

Levi, a little flustered, shook his head upon them and took his crying daughter into his arms. You watched him gently cradle her against his chest, planting a couple of kisses on the top of her head, while he rubbed her back.

„The brats made you cry, huh? Don't worry, you'll get used to them,“ he said to the baby, looking back at Connie. „And you'll have them wrapped around your finger in no time,“ Levi added and kissed her forehead in the hopes of stopping her from crying more. But little Zoe knew exactly what she wanted and cried until Levi didn't hide her in his embrace from the rest of the world, while he lovingly started scratching the back of her head. Lately, this has become the most efficient way to calm her down.  „There, sweetie. That's better, right? No need to cry.“

Connie chuckled at the sight. „Well, Captain. Seems you're already wrapped around her finger. I've never heard you talk so sweetly to anyone, not even to Y/N.“

Jean and Armin came to stand by Mikasa, all of them watching the sweet sight of Humanity's Strongest being a completely different person when it came to his own daughter. All of them changed so much during the past few years. But when you looked at them in that moment, you still saw the kids they were, when they joined the Scouts. The kids you grew to love and swore to protect. The kids, who became your family long before such a peaceful life was even a possibility for all of you.

What a shame not all of them made it this far.

Not having Sasha and Eren here felt strange and painful. It felt like you failed a little. But just until you looked back at your daughter. Her cheeks were still wet from tears, while she was so adorably clinging to Levi. In her still teary eyes, you saw Sasha's dedication and Eren's bravery.

And that was what mattered the most.

Having your family here with you and showing them just how much they meant to you. How much you loved them and how happy it made you, that they came here today to meet little Zoe Ackerman.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

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Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall. 

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake. 

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers. 

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating. 

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have. 

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her. 

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband. 

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his. 

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned. 

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her. 

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests. 

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity.  Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye. 

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention. 

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love. 

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them. 

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk. 

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth. 

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him. 

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens. 

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her. 

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions. 

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish. 

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation. 

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm. 

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle. 

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air. 

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds. 

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her. 

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster. 

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses. 

“My wife?” He kisses again. 

“My forever goddess?” And again. 

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste. 

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg. 

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down. 

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most. 

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit. 

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure. 

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation. 

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine. 

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back. 

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow. 

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband. 

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb. 

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.” 

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body. 

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal. 

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks. 

“Beg for it.” He commands. 

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth. 

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for. 

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide. 

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest. 

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him. 

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her. 

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice. 

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question. 

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again. 

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost. 

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were. 

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her. 

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again. 

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together. 

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same. 

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention. 

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence. 

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety. 

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation. 

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.” 

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears. 

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would. 

“What in return?” He asks. 

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position. 

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head. 

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king. 

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that. 

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end. 

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth. 

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren. 

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream. 

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found. 

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors. 

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was. 

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull. 

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her. 

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses. 

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.” 

“Let us hope,” She says defeated. 

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned. 

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself. 

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world. 

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her. 

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since. 

The Dreaming is dying. 

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry. 

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon. 

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child. 

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees. 

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay. 

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her. 

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs. 

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child. 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps. 

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear. 

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up. 

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs. 

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her. 

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her. 

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this. 

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature. 

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library. 

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her. 

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons. 

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed. 

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off. 

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard. 

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes. 

“Who dares summon m-” 

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand. 

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend. 

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at. 

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding. 

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made. 

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak? 

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately. 

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates. 

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother. 

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything. 

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach. 

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat. 

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be. 

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands. 

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate. 

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife. 

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell. 

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident. 

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment. 

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her. 

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband. 

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs. 

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear. 

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries. 

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war. 

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving. 

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue. 

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.” 

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter. 

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out. 

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel. 

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest. 

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child. 

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed. 

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help. 

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn. 

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together. 

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in. 

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor. 

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her. 

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile. 

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man. 

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where. 

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess. 

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes. 

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants. 

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance. 

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party. 

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal. 

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong. 

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself. 

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms. 

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway. 

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns. 

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly. 

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps. 

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement. 

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them. 

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier. 

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.” 

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms. 

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth. 

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again. 

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades. 

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously. 

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake. 

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.” 

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger. 

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?” 

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on. 

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek. 

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them. 

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth. 

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart. 

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again. 

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump. 

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus. 

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together. 

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena. 

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact. 

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent. 

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time. 

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain. 

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils. 

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood. 

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet. 

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck. 

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest. 

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest. 

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation. 

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her. 

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air. 

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair. 

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter. 

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement. 

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor. 

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief. 

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form. 

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god. 

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake. 

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

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[f14fun]

pages and podiums (!author x op81) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, an author hosts a signing and a read-out-loud of the final installment of her book series in new york city. oscar, lost in the big city, stumbles by the bookstore and is immediately intrigued by her (and her books).

prose (5.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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Oscar had told me to dress nice.

That's all his text message contained. "Dress nice."

To this day, I cannot fathom why men simply lack the need to provide detail into the dress code of the night. It's as if they assume we can read their minds or that 'dress nice' is universally understood. Men seem to operate on a different wavelength when it comes to these things. While we're left deciphering cryptic messages like "dress nice," they seem content with the vague directive.

Maybe it's a test of our fashion intuition or perhaps they genuinely believe that 'nice' is a universally understood standard.

Either way, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, debating between outfits that ranged from elegant to casual, all while wondering if 'nice' meant dinner-date chic or something more formal.

Texting him a series of, "???" and a "Could you please be a little bit more specific, I'm (slightly) freaking out in my apartment right now 😭", he responded in a mere matter of minutes, while I was sitting on the stool of my makeup vanity, painting on my eyeliner to utmost precision.

Taking an absentminded glance at my cellphone while I haphazardly used a q-tip to wipe off excess mascara, he responded with, "Don't worry, you don't have to dress to the nines, just something that you are comfortable with."

His prompt reply brought a mix of relief and amusement, contrasting sharply with my frantic preparations.

As I smoothed out the edges of my makeup, I couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation—here I was, meticulously applying makeup to look effortlessly 'chic and nice,' while he nonchalantly reassured me with a casual text.

It was a reminder of the different approaches we often had towards such occasions, him opting for simplicity and me, in a flurry of brushes and cosmetics, seeking clarity down to the finest detail.

But what can I say, isn't there a famous saying that goes, opposites attract?

Settling on a silky white dress with black trim around the neckline, I draped a white blazer on my shoulders. The wide neckline beautifully emphasized my collarbones, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. It was a choice that balanced professionalism with a hint of chicness, perfect for the occasion I was preparing for.

The silky fabric cascaded down in gentle folds, skimming over my figure with a graceful flow. Paired with the structured lines of the blazer, the outfit exuded confidence and sophistication. The contrast of white against black trim created a striking visual impact, drawing attention to the neckline and framing my face in a flattering way.

As I stood in front of the mirror, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility and lost in my thoughts—as I often am—a sudden ring shattered the silence. Startled, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, joking to myself that authors must have a knack for interrupting serene moments.

Curious to hear Oscar's voice after our earlier exchange, I answered the call with a smile, ready to continue our conversation.

"Hey Y/N," he answered in a low voice. There was just something about his greeting that exuded a newfound sense of confidence from the nerdy and dorky brown-haired boy.

"Hi Oscar," I replied, suddenly shy at the seemingly flirty intonation of his voice. I gulped. This was going to be a long night if I kept blushing like a school-girl every time Oscar spoke.

Not that I was complaining though.

I would love a long night with Oscar. (Dear reader, if you know, you know)

"I'm at the front of your apartment building," He replied.

"Already?!" I shockingly replied. He had told me that he would be here at 6:30 PM. It was 6:15 PM. Over the call, I could here his faint laughed at my surprise.

"Wow, you are here so early," I said, "Kudos to your promptness, I'm impressed," I joked.

"Well, you know me," Oscar replied smoothly. "When there's a chance to see you, I'm always ahead of schedule."

His confident response made me smile. "I'll be down in a minute then. Just don't let all this early arrival go to your head, Mr. Punctual."

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "But no promises. See you soon, Y/N."

"See you soon, Oscar," I replied, hanging up the phone with a grin. This night was definitely starting off on an unexpectedly fun note. I just hoped it would end with the same amount of vigor and flirtiness.

I hastily tucked my makeup pouch and phone into my purse, swiftly crossing the hallway of my apartment complex to reach the elevator. Tapping my foot nervously—and with a touch of impatience—I looked forward to seeing Oscar as I descended thirty-seven floors. This felt like the longest elevator ride of my life, each floor passing with excruciating slowness as anticipation built in my chest.

Finally, the doors slid open on the ground floor. Stepping out, I scanned the lobby, my heart skipping a beat when I spotted Oscar standing near the entrance. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape as he took in my appearance. I couldn't help but grin mischievously at his stunned reaction.

"Well, someone looks like they've seen a ghost," I teased playfully, walking towards him with a confident stride.

Oscar blinked rapidly, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I... uh... I mean... wow," he stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

I laughed lightly, enjoying the rare moment of leaving Oscar speechless. "Cat got your tongue, Mr. Piastri?" I quipped, standing before him now, reveling in the flustered expression on his face.

He managed a sheepish smile. "You just... you look amazing," he finally managed to say, his eyes still wide with admiration.

"Well, thank you," I replied with a pleased smile. "You're not quite too shabby yourself, Mr. Piastri," I added, giving him a playful once-over.

Oscar chuckled nervously, adjusting his collar. "I... uh... well, thank you," he said, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

As we stood in the lobby, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nervous energy. People passed by, casting curious glances our way, but we were lost in our own little bubble of playful banter and mutual admiration.

"You know," Oscar began, his voice a touch more confident now, "I've been looking forward to tonight."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "And why's that?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend it with someone as charming as you," he replied smoothly.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his unabashed flattery. "Smooth talker," I teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Only for the smoothest writer I know," he quipped back.

"Touche, touche, I'll give you credit for that remark," I responded, my eyebrows raised at his quick response.

"I have a surprise for you," Oscar said with a mischievous glint in his eye as we walked towards his car.

"A surprise? I love surprises!" I exclaimed, curiosity piqued.

He chuckled softly. "Guess where we're going for dinner," he prompted, his tone playful.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Oh no, not this again. You know I'm terrible at guessing," I replied with a smirk, remembering the countless times I'd failed miserably at guessing his job earlier that day.

Oscar laughed, a warm sound that filled the air. "Come on, give it a shot," he encouraged, nudging me gently as we reached the car.

I sighed dramatically, pretending to ponder. "Hmm... Thai food? Sushi? Maybe a cozy café with gourmet burgers?" I guessed, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nope, nope, and nope," he replied, enjoying my playful attempts.

"Fine, fine," I conceded with a grin. "Just tell me already."

Oscar paused for a moment, relishing the suspense. "We're going to an Italian restaurant," he finally revealed, watching my reaction carefully.

"Italian?" I repeated, surprised yet pleased. "That sounds wonderful," I admitted, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of pasta and candlelit ambiance.

He nodded, his satisfaction evident in his expression. "I thought you might like it," he said softly, opening the car door for me.

The ride to the restaurant was quite smooth, albeit we were stuck in traffic for around forty minutes but the drive was still pleasant nonetheless. Oscar distracted me from my imminent road rage as a New Yorker, and the fact that sometimes, I still felt overwhelmed by all of the bright lights and glamor that New York City had.

As we finally arrived at the Italian restaurant, Oscar found a convenient parking spot near the entrance. He held the car door open for me again, and I stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, feeling a mixture of excitement and hunger.

The restaurant's exterior exuded a cozy charm, with warm lighting and inviting aromas wafting through the air. We walked inside, greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. A hostess welcomed us with a smile and led us to a corner table with a view of the twinkling city lights through large windows.

"This is perfect," I commented, settling into my chair and taking in the ambiance.

Oscar smiled, pulling out my chair for me before seating himself opposite. "I'm glad you think so," he replied warmly, picking up the menu and handing one to me.

"Are you hungry?" He gave me a cheeky grin. Before I could respond, my stomach growled loudly. Betrayed by my body at the worst possible moment, of course.

Turning a bright beet red, Oscar let out a laugh.

"Well, my stomach answered before I could so, enough said," I rolled my eyes, still embarrassed, the red heat on my face expanding to my neck.

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess that settles it," he said teasingly. "Let's make sure we order enough to satisfy both of us and your hungry stomach."

"How nice of you to include my big back in the discussion," I joked.

"Always a gentleman," he rolled his eyes.

Taking a look at the menu, my eyes widened at the relatively expensive prices. I still had some debt accumulated from my four years spent at NYU. My job as an author didn't even cover all of that.

Oscar noticed my hesitation and leaned closer, his voice gentle. "Don't worry about it. Dinner's on me tonight," he reassured me with a warm smile.

I shook my head, a playful glint in my eyes. "Oh no, I couldn't let you do that," I protested lightly, though secretly touched by his gesture.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "It's not a problem, really. Just promise me one thing," he said, his tone turning teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What's that?"

"Promise me a signed copy of your next book series," Oscar replied with a grin. "That's more than enough payment."

"Don't tell me you would betray me by selling those books on eBay," I say, mocking him.

Oscar gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I would never! Your autograph is priceless to me," he replied, his expression mock-serious.

"Yeah, you definitely couldn't sell it if I wrote a heartfelt message on the front flap of the book," I replied. Immediately coming up with a way to embarrass him.

"Oh please, enlighten me with your plan," he responded, making direct eye contact with me as if to challenge me. Staring at him back, I responded.

"In the front flap, I could probably write, Dear my little Pookie-Bear Oscar Cutie-Pie,-" I say, and before I can even finish Oscar choked on the water he was sipping. Both of us burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement I just said.

"Yup, I am never, saying that ever again in my life," I shook my head in mock disbelief.

"But what if I wanted you to call me that," Oscar said slyly.

"Oscar, are you seriously into that," I said, raising an eyebrow as I tried to keep a straight face (hint, I was failing), the sides of my lips quirking up as I tried to restrain my gummy smile.

"Ocassionally," Oscar said, surprising me that night once more.

"Oscar!" I whisper yelled.

"Only with you, Y/N, only with you I promise," he smirked. Rolling my eyes and blushing, I replied.

"So you would be fine if I called you Oscar my Pookie Bear," I teased, fiddling with the golden ring on my index finger.

"Only if I got to call you Y/N my Cutie Pie," he responded, emulating the same vibe.

"Deal," I challenged him.

"Shake on it?" he asked.

"Shake on it," I responded.

He reached out for a handshake, and his hand fully enveloped mine. Despite his profession as a Formula One driver and his regular workouts, his palm had a surprising smoothness that contrasted with the slight roughness of his fingertips. It was a sensation that immediately caught my attention—a tactile reminder of his strength and determination, yet with a gentleness that made me feel oddly comforted.

As our hands met, a subtle warmth spread through me, and I couldn't help but notice the way our fingers interlocked naturally, as if they had found their perfect fit. We both blushed slightly, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture in such a public setting. His touch felt reassuring and strangely familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

Though extremely cliche (as an author, nonetheless), for a brief moment, time seemed to slow down around us, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. It was just us, connected by this simple yet significant gesture. I stole a glance at Oscar and found him already looking at me with a softness in his eyes that mirrored my own feelings.

"Sorry," Oscar murmured, a hint of bashfulness in his voice as he withdrew his hand, but his eyes held a softness that mirrored my own feelings.

"No, it's okay," I replied softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for this unexpected connection. "I... I liked it."

Oscar smiled shyly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Me too," he admitted, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.

The waiter returned to our table with a warm smile. "Are you ready to order?" he asked politely, holding his notepad at the ready.

I glanced at Oscar, a playful twinkle in my eye. "I think we're finally ready," I replied, turning my attention back to the menu. "I'll have the Fettuccine Alfredo, please."

"Excellent choice," the waiter noted, jotting down my order. He then turned to Oscar. "And for you, sir?"

"I'll have the Margherita pizza," Oscar said with a nod, handing back the menu.

The waiter nodded, jotting down the order swiftly. "Anything to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine," I answered.

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll go with a sparkling water, please."

"Of course," the waiter replied, smiling warmly before heading off to place our order.

I turned back to Oscar with a grin. "Pizza and pasta—classic choices," I remarked teasingly.

He chuckled, a lightness returning to his demeanor. "Can't go wrong with Italian cuisine," he replied, his gaze meeting mine. "Especially when enjoyed in good company."

Are you saying I'm good company?" I teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Oscar's smile widened, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "I suppose I'll have to wait until after dinner to make that judgment," he quipped, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "But if this pizza is as good as they say, you might just have some stiff competition."

I laughed softly, feeling a pleasant warmth between us. "Oh, I see how it is," I replied with mock indignation. "Pizza versus my sparkling personality—may the best contender win."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "It's going to be a tough battle," he agreed, lifting his water glass in a mock toast. "But I have faith in both contenders."

"Speaking of pizza," Oscar began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I once had a friend who insisted he could make the best homemade pizza. It turned out to be a disaster." He shook his head, feigning dramatic horror. "I think I nearly choked down every bite, trying not to offend him."

I laughed at the mental image, imagining Oscar's valiant effort to endure the culinary ordeal. "Oh no, that sounds like a true test of friendship," I teased, leaning forward with interest. "How did you manage to survive?"

"Well, let's just say I had plenty of water on hand," Oscar replied, his tone tinged with amusement. "And I made sure to praise his pizza-making skills as convincingly as I could."

"Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," I mused with a grin. "But you survived to tell the tale, so that's what counts."

Oscar nodded solemnly, though a playful glint remained in his eyes. "Indeed. And now, I can appreciate good pizza even more," he said, gesturing towards the restaurant's kitchen with a nod of approval.

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer. "So, who's this friend of yours? Anyone I might know?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar chuckled softly. "His name's Lando," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Also known as my annoying and slightly older but slightly shorter teammate."

I grinned, picturing the dynamic between Oscar and his friend. "Sounds like quite the character," I commented, amused. "Does he still try to impress you with his culinary skills?"

"All the time," Oscar replied with a laugh. "But I've learned my lesson. I stick to letting him handle the driving, and I handle the pizza orders."

"Smart move," I teased, swirling the ice in my water glass. "It's all about knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses, right?"

"Exactly," Oscar agreed with a nod. "And trust me, after that pizza incident, I've become quite adept at steering him away from the kitchen."

I chuckled, imagining the scenes that must unfold between them. "I bet he keeps things interesting though," I remarked, a playful glint in my eye.

"Oh, definitely," Oscar said with a fond smile. "He's the kind of guy who always brings excitement wherever he goes, whether it's on the track or just trying to cook dinner."

Curiosity sparked, I leaned forward slightly. "Speaking of cooking, do you cook?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar's expression turned comically horrified. "God, no," he replied with a laugh, shaking his head emphatically. "I leave that to the professional chefs that travel with us."

"Wait, you have professional chefs traveling with you?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "That's quite the perk."

"Yeah," Oscar nodded, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "It's one of the luxuries of the racing circuit. These chefs are like nomads, following us from race to race, making sure we're well-fed and ready to perform."

I couldn't help but be intrigued. "That's incredible," I admitted, picturing a team of chefs crafting gourmet meals in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled world of Formula One racing. "I guess it takes a lot to keep up with the demands of your schedule."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed. "They're not just skilled chefs, they're also part of the team dynamics, ensuring we have the right nutrition and energy levels for each race."

As I absorbed this new insight into Oscar's world, I found myself more fascinated by the intricate details behind the scenes of Formula One. "It sounds like a whole different lifestyle," I mused, leaning back in my chair.

"Mhm," he said, looking up at my eyes, then looking down towards my cherry-red lips.

I couldn't help but laugh at his response (or lack thereof), a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Fair enough," I said, amused. "Are you as bad as Lando in the kitchen then?"

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I'd like to think I'm not that bad," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "But let's just say my skills are better suited to driving a race car than handling a spatula."

"Well, at least you know your strengths," I teased lightly, taking a sip of water. "And you're lucky to have Lando for the culinary adventures."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed with a grin. "He keeps things entertaining, that's for sure."

"But when I do attempt to cook," Oscar continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "I try my best to learn new recipes." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "Key word being 'try'."

I chuckled, imagining Oscar navigating through a kitchen with the same precision he used on the race track. "I can picture it now," I replied playfully. "Oscar Piastri, the daring chef, mastering the art of... well, trying."

Oscar laughed along with me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Exactly," he said, shaking his head with mock solemnity. "Let's just say, there have been a few... interesting experiments."

"I'm intrigued," I admitted, leaning forward with curiosity. "Any memorable disasters you'd care to share?"

"Well," Oscar began, a grin spreading across his face, "there was this one time I attempted to make pasta from scratch. Let's just say it ended up resembling something closer to sticky dough than pasta."

I couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Ah, the joys of culinary exploration," I remarked, shaking my head fondly. "But hey, at least you're willing to give it a shot."

"And that's what counts, right?" Oscar replied with a wink. "Trying new things, even if the results are... questionable."

Our banter continued, punctuated by shared smiles and the occasional playful exchange. As we awaited our meal, the anticipation mingled with the easy comfort of our growing connection, creating a moment that felt both lighthearted and promising.

"So, what about you?" Oscar asked, his eyes curious as he leaned in slightly, genuinely interested in my culinary exploits. "Any culinary adventures or misadventures of your own?"

I chuckled softly, reminiscing about my past kitchen escapades. "Oh, plenty," I confessed with a playful grin. "There was this one time I tried to impress my friends with homemade pasta. Let's just say it turned out more like noodles stuck together in clumps than the elegant strands I envisioned."

Oscar chuckled, his expression amused. "Ah, the classic pasta mishap," he commented with a knowing nod. "It's tricky to get it just right."

"It is," I agreed, smiling at the shared understanding. "But you know, every mishap is a learning experience."

"That's the spirit," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did your friends at least appreciate the effort?"

"They did," I confirmed with a laugh. "Although I'm pretty sure they were just being polite."

"Well, that's what friends are for," Oscar remarked, his tone light and teasing. "To eat your culinary experiments with a smile."

Our banter was interrupted as the waiter arrived, balancing a tray laden with steaming plates of pasta and pizza. The enticing aroma filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

"Ah, here's the moment of truth," Oscar said with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he surveyed the delicious spread before us.

I couldn't help but mirror his excitement. "It looks amazing," I commented, taking in the sight of perfectly cooked pasta and the bubbling cheese on the pizza. "I'm glad we went with Italian tonight."

"Me too," Oscar agreed, reaching for his fork eagerly. "Let's dig in."

We both took our first bites, and the flavors exploded on our palates, confirming our expectations. I savored the rich tomato sauce and the tender pasta, while Oscar seemed equally pleased with his choice of pizza.

"Mmm, this is really good," I said between bites, nodding appreciatively.

Oscar nodded in agreement, his mouth half full. "Definitely hits the spot," he managed to say, swallowing before continuing. "I'm glad you're enjoying it too."

"By the way," Oscar said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "if my pasta-making skills ever fail me again, can I count on you to come to the rescue?"

I chuckled, playing along with his playful flirtation. "Well, I can't promise gourmet, but I'll do my best to salvage the situation," I replied with a grin.

"Good to know," Oscar teased, his smile widening. "Maybe we can turn it into a team effort next time."

I laughed, enjoying the easy banter and the hint of flirtation in the air. "Team cooking," I mused aloud. "I think we might just have a winning combination."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed, leaning in a little closer. "You bring the charm, I'll handle the taste-testing. It's a partnership made in culinary heaven."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playful words. "Sounds like a plan," I replied, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in my eye. "Just don't blame me if we end up ordering takeout."

Oscar laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Fair enough," he said, his voice low and teasing. "As long as we're having fun, that's all that matters."

"You know," I began, setting down my fork thoughtfully, "as much as I love writing, I also really enjoy cooking."

Oscar looked genuinely interested. "Oh? What got you into writing?" he asked curiously, his eyes focused on me.

I smiled, tracing the rim of my water glass with my finger. "It's something I've loved since I was a child," I explained. "Books were my escape, and writing became my way of creating worlds and stories that I could get lost in."

"That's incredible," Oscar replied, his tone sincere. "It must be fulfilling, bringing characters and stories to life."

"It really is," I admitted with a soft smile. "And cooking is another creative outlet for me. There's something about creating a dish from scratch, experimenting with flavors… It's like writing, but with food."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied with a smile, appreciating his interest. "Writing has always been a part of me. One of my favorite pieces that I wrote was actually a poetry anthology for a non-traditional poetry class I accidentally signed up for at NYU."

Oscar's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "Accidentally signed up for?"

I chuckled softly. "Yes, it was one of those situations where I thought I was enrolling in a different class, but it turned out to be a wonderful surprise," I explained. "The anthology ended up being a collection of stories that my mother and grandmother had told me from a young age, stories infused with cultural ties and traditions."

"That sounds fascinating," Oscar remarked, clearly intrigued.

"It was," I continued, my voice growing more animated. "Each poem was written in different languages, reflecting the diversity of my heritage, and I included drawings and pictures alongside the text to capture the essence of the stories."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "So, it was a blend of storytelling and visual art," he summarized, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Exactly," I confirmed, pleased that he understood. "It was an exploration of my roots and a way to preserve those cherished narratives in a creative and meaningful way."

"Did your family get to see the anthology?" Oscar asked, his eyes reflecting his curiosity.

"Yes, they did," I replied with a warm smile. "It meant a lot to share those stories with them in such a personal and artistic format."

Oscar grinned mischievously. "Well, I guess accidental enrollments can lead to some pretty amazing discoveries. Who knew you were a secret poet?" he teased lightly, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I chuckled, shaking my head playfully. "I certainly didn't see it coming, but I'm glad it happened," I admitted with a smile. "It opened up a whole new creative avenue for me."

Oscar leaned back slightly, his grin widening. "So, does that mean you'll be writing a poetry anthology about racing next?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow in mock seriousness.

I laughed, amused by his playful suggestion. "Poetry and racing? Now there's a unique combination," I replied, feigning thoughtful consideration. "Maybe I'll call it 'Odes to Speed and Asphalt.'"

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying our banter. "I can already picture it," he teased, leaning in closer. "Each stanza capturing the thunderous roar of engines and the thrill of the track."

"Exactly," I agreed with a playful wink. "I'll make sure to include a sonnet dedicated to the smell of burning rubber."

His laughter filled the air, blending seamlessly with the relaxed ambiance of the restaurant. "Now that's poetry I can get behind," he admitted with a grin. "You might just start a whole new genre."

"Who knows?" I replied, smiling back at him. "Maybe I'll revolutionize the literary world with my racing-inspired poetry."

"Only if you credit me as your muse in the introduction of your poetry book," he teased.

I chuckled, feigning reluctance. "Hmm, I suppose I could consider it," I teased back, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "But I'll have to warn my readers about your penchant for bad homemade pizza stories."

Oscar laughed, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye. "Fair enough," he conceded, his smile widening. "But I expect royalties for every copy sold."

"Deal," I replied with a grin, enjoying the easy banter that flowed effortlessly between us. "Just don't be surprised if I dedicate a haiku to your pasta disasters."

"Touché," Oscar replied, his laughter echoing warmly in the cozy restaurant. "I guess every muse has their quirks."

As we settled the bill and made our way out of the restaurant, the city lights glimmered around us, casting a soft glow over our conversation. Oscar walked me to the entrance of my apartment building, where we paused under the night sky.

"So," he began, his voice warm with anticipation, "how about next time we take our creativity to your place? We can read and write poetry, maybe make some pasta if we're feeling adventurous."

I considered his suggestion for a moment, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of continuing our connection. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," I replied with a smile, meeting his gaze with genuine enthusiasm.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes brightening. "I'm looking forward to it."

Giving me a kiss on my cheek, not too flirty or scandalous, but just the right thing to end the night, he grabbed my waist and stared into my eyes.

"I'm not sure if I told you this tonight, but you look beautiful Y/N," he whispered. Blushing, I looked into his eyes.

"You did say that earlier," I lightheartedly joked during such a romantic moment (damn it me!)

"And I'll say it over and over again," he said, resting his forehead against mine, as we both stood hugging each other, comfortable in each other's presence.

But soon, it was time to go. I had a day job, and he was still busy with Formula One.

We exchanged goodbyes with promises to text soon, and as I watched him disappear into the night, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected twist that had brought us together. The evening had been filled with laughter, flirtation, and the promise of new beginnings—a perfect blend of romance and creativity that left me eager for whatever the future held.

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taglist: @erin-odonnell04 @rorabelle15 @dramallama9 @yukimaniac

comment down below if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

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author's note:

ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

(do you guys want a part three?)

[theodoresgirl]

hey I have a request for a Killian jones x female reader where the female reader is Emma’s twin sister (looks more like snow) and has a 3 year old daughter from a past toxic relationship, if you can’t do it that’s fine either way thank you :)

Killian jones x Emma’s twin sister

Killian jones x Fem!Reader

A/n: I did not forget about this request, Sorry it took me a few days to do! Hope you enjoy<3

—————————————————————————

Y/n was the daughter of David Nolan and Mary Margaret. She also is the twin sister of the savior Emma Swan. She grew up being bounced between foster homes in New Orleans. When she was 23 she had gotten into a really toxic relationship, at 25 she got pregnant and had a daughter.

She had been stuck in the toxic relationship until she was 28, She had packed up her and some of her daughters things and left in the middle of the night.

She had silky long black hair that was curly, brown eyes and a round face with dimples. She almost looked like a clone of Mary Margaret. Her daughter Edith had long dark brunette hair with emerald eyes.

Killian had met y/n and her daughter Edith one day when she had went to visit her sister and parents for one of the first times.

⭐️

Thursday June 25th, 12:51pm.

Y/n was sitting on the top deck of the jolly roger with Edith, They were eating some sandwiches from granny’s. They were waiting on Killian to finish cleaning his ship.

Edith was sitting on the edge of the ship walls looking out on the water, Y/n kept her view on her daughter and occasionally if he was in view, glancing at killian. Y/n finishes her sandwich and crumbles up the wrapper putting it into a bag.

Y/n looks around trying to see killian but doesn’t, “can i have your trash princess?” She holds the bag out so Edith can put her trash in it, “and I need you to be on the deck instead of railing so I can go run this up to the dumpster” Edith shakes her head as she puts her trash into the bag.

“I can’t leave you on the railing of the boat- ship? You could fall in the water” “Mermaid” edith looks over the edge. “It doesn’t work that way” She holds Edith back so she doesn’t fall. “I’ll watch her, Don’t worry about it love” Killian came up behind her, startling her. “Oh!- it’s fine- you- You don’t gotta worry about it, Weren’t you cleaning?” she nervously smiled, still not used to someone offering to help her.

“I’m done cleaning, Honestly love we could just head back to your loft if you wanted-“ “i wanna stay” the little one interrupted. Y/n sighed before nodding “i’ll be right back then” she said as she walked down and off the jolly roger.

“Alright then love” Killian smirks and she walks away. He turns towards Edith and leans against the railing of the ship and holds himself up with his elbows. “So what do you like kiddo?” He asked curiously. Edith answered back “Princess, Cartoons, Barbie-“ “I'm gonna have to cut you off there my lady, I have no idea what this ‘barbie’ is, Cartoons too?” Killian admitted. Edith looks at Killian with a confused look, “you don’t know barbie?”. Killian shook his head “what is it?”

“Barbie is movies, some of my favorites” She smiles. “You’ll have to show me one next time I’m over then” Killian pats her head with his hand.

Edith nods and giggles “we can watch a mermaid one” “oh? There’s mermaids?” Killian raises an eyebrow. “yes!! Yes!!” she nods and smiles.

⭐️

Saturday June 27th, 8:00pm

Y/n was laying in the living room with Killian and Edith. Edith was sitting in front of her mother and the pirate watching Barbie: In a Mermaid Tale 2. Killian was laying on the couch with y/n laying on his chest.

Killian had his focus on the tv, only sometimes asking questions about ‘Barbie’, and either getting an answer from the little brunette in front of him or the pale skinned woman in his arms.

After the movie was over both Y/n and Edith were asleep, Killian carefully slips himself out from under Y/n and picks her up. He carries her to her bedroom and lays her down before going out to the living room again and turning everything off. He picks up little Edith and carries her to her room and lays her down, tucking her in, “Goodnight Kiddo.” He muttered as he walked out of the room going into Y/n.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #59] Betting Against Yeonjun

warnings: there's a section towards the start where I was really going thru it with my adoration for jk lmao bingo if you spot it!!!, seokjin, byeol at her best!!, jungkook also at his best!!!!, mmm I luv our starluvrs <3, conversations re: the first night they met waaaa, okay phew where to start: smut, jungkook's phone gallery is a hotbed of sin (recording), semi-public (club booths), bratty b, dominant koo, a lil degradation, (he says something that would piss me off (b is a better woman than I!! (but she gets her own back!!))), oral (m), lots of lovely words, a little titty worship <3, b on top (yeehaw), creampie, cum eating, oral (f), jimin + nabi!!!!!

a/n: this was the final chapter on wattpad before bd got taken down :( it's very bittersweet. also makes me suuuuuper aware of how few updates we've had since (1.... we have had 1 update (wattpad really knocked the wind from my sails, and if you've been keeping up with me outside of bd, you'll know how crazy busy I've been (the plus side is that I'm so nearly freeee to write to my hearts content for a couple of weeks! <3)))

wc: 10.5K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

While Jeongguk has always looked good behind the bar of Dionysus, you can't help but think he looks so much better in the middle of a tight-knit crowd, with an arm looped around your waist and a drink in his hand.

Under the cosmic lights of Dionysus, there's a glisten to his lips—alcohol yet to be licked away—and the sheen of sweat on his skin. Hair dark and dishevelled, his fringe tickles at his brows. You don't push it out of his face, 'cause it'll just fall back into position as soon as he moves to the beat of the music.

With a smile on his face, Jeongguk turns to his friends. Chants the lyrics to some song that soundtracked the summers of their youth. Is rowdy and careless in how he jumps around, but not once does he ever loosen his grip on you.

You're all in your finest—the boys in suits, and girls in cocktail dresses. While Nabi is in a deep navy satin number, Danbi has gone for black. Seoyeon opted for an early night, her and Yoongi heading home when the rest of you made your way to the bar.

In the dress picked out for you by Jeongguk all those weeks ago, you're far too overdressed for a bar like this—but you're also under the influence of far too much alcohol.

You know this is one of those golden moments; the nights you won't remember but will have stories to tell about it in years to come. Folklore. Whispers of Aurelian affairs weaved into your subconscious.

History has been made tonight. Not the kind that'll be read about in textbooks, but the kind that grandkids will be told a dozen times over—in a home that's covered in tiny specks of shimmer, while the scent of samgyeopsal waltzes from the kitchen to the courtyard.

So, no, Jeongguk doesn't loosen his grip, and he doesn't think he ever will.

You ignore just how many drinks have been knocked against you, and have also long forgotten the annoyance of sticky liquor on your feet. It's nothing a shower won't fix. Knowing the man beside you as intimately as you do, you're almost positive it's where you'll end up in a few hours, anyway.

Thoughts of you and him doing as you so often do have you wishing you were home already. Tonight is for celebrating, though—and oh, how lovely it is to have an excuse to celebrate Jeon Jeongguk.

Venus herself would've had a hard time crafting him, you think. Carved from marble and yet soft as the silky words he likes to wrap you up in, he's unlike anything of this earth.

For all of his thoughts about you, and the cosmos, and how he's certain 'Milky Way' is written where a location should be on your birth certificate, you've had just as many deliberations.

He says he was born in Busan, but men like him don't just come to be as a result of random genetics. He's forged of gold. Perfection in the form of a mere mortal man.

But then he's shouting something to Jimin over the sound of the music, and he stutters a little. Repeats himself with a goofy little grin, unphased by his innate imperfections, and it only serves to make your heart swell.

Jeongguk isn't perfect. He's capable of making mistakes and saying the wrong things. He wears toe-separating socks more often than you care to acknowledge, and sometimes he can be a little stroppy for no reason.

The pout always eases, though, and he derives such joy from those stupid socks that you can't ever bring yourself to tell him how ridiculous they are.

Perfection isn't measured in traits. It's measured in perception.

And you've never perceived a human more perfect for you than Jeon Jeongguk.

Anyone who looks your way would agree—or maybe they'd just see the way you're looking at him, all dewy-eyed and fawn-like, and know that there must be a little magic between you both.

When he turns his attention back to you and realises just how much adoration is glittering your eyes, he does the only thing he can do: tightens the arm he has around your waist and press the sweetest of kisses into your lips.

"Get a room!"

"Disgusting!"

"PDA! Gross!"

The noise that erupts for your friends is nothing short of embarrassing, even if it is obscured by the thudding base of the club speakers.

None of them really mean it. All have smiles on their faces. Are laughing.

Even if they weren't, they'd far rather you and Jeongguk were insufferably sweet, instead of still pretending like you aren't crazy about one another. You ignore them all anyway. Pout when he pulls away from the kiss. Get him back on your lips just as quickly as he left them.

Jeongguk's lips curve into a smile as he sinks his lips into yours and revels in the way it feels.

In the middle of a bar he could call home, surrounded by people he adores, Jeongguk's got you .

Has caught a shooting star, and is gloating just because he can.

"Fuck, I love you," he mumbles into your lips barely loud enough for you to hear, yet your arms wrap around his neck because you know exactly what he said. Kiss him back with a smile just as insufferable as his.

"Yeah?" You giggle.

Your friends have stopped caring—or at least, they've stopped teasing you. Are just letting you be. Suits Jeongguk fine. Just gives him the green light to tighten his arm around your back and lift you ever so slightly.

"You know I do."

Jeongguk loves without condition. Doesn't need to hear you say it back, not when he knows how you feel.

And yet you indulge him regardless.

"I love you, too," you tell him, and then can't help but giggle at how stupid it all feels. He puts you back on your feet. Press a kiss to your forehead, and then urges you back into the group. Shaking your head, you pull back. "Just gonna get another drink."

"I'll come with."

"Stay," you insist, squeezing his hand as you pull his grip away from your hand. He should be with his friends, you think. Plus you'll order him a drink, too. Won't put it on his tab, 'cause you know damn well that bar tab his friends love so much will no doubt migrate to his restaurant. Still, you make sure to call back, "Will only be a minute, babe!"

You know it'll pacify him for a moment or so, and you also just wanna indulge in the simple pleasure of watching his lip ring do the thing. You'll never grow tired of it. Two birds, one pathetically pretty heart-shaped stone.

You lose yourself in the crowd. Know this place like the back of your hands. Doesn't take you long to find yourself by the bar with an incredibly sober Yeonjun raising his brows in your direction.

He saw you coming. Already has a few empty shot glasses lined up on the tray ready to make you starfuckers.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to say something that'd feel far wittier in your drunk mind than would be in reality when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

Instantly, you flinch away.

The hand isn't cold nor is it aggressive; it's just not Jeongguk's. You knew without hesitation. Eyes flicking over to the mirrored backsplash of the bar, you briefly catch Yeonjun's unimpressed gaze.

He doesn't know the man who's taken the spot beside you, but he knows the man is far closer than a stranger should be.

He's strapping. Incredibly good looking. Broad shoulders, hair slicked back. Is put together in a way that men in Dionysus rarely are.

"Water?" Yeonjun offers you, 'cause no matter how much he likes to wind Jeongguk up, he's grown into a good man. Has a lot to thank Jeongguk for. His care for drunk punters, and making sure they're okay, is one of those things.

Yeonjun also knows Jeongguk would pluck every single cerulean hair from his head if he were ever to let anything happen to a single hair on yours.

"Yeah," you nod, edging away from the man beside you.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The man closes the space you created.

"You were in your element tonight," he says, looking down towards you. "Could be making a name for yourself instead of doing some kid's hard work for him."

When your eyes flicker up at him, they're sharp. Pointed. Daggers where daisies once were. Edging away again, you create a distance that isn't so easily closed this time.

"And you could piss off, Seokjin."

"Oh," he hums with the kind of smirk that would have sent you reeling once upon time. Just makes your stomach churn, now. "Full name? Am I in trouble?"

"I'd have to actually give a shit about you for you to be in trouble," you tell him, and are kind of surprised by how little you feel. You're not even angry. You're bored. A little irritated. Mostly indifferent. "And quite frankly the way you've been behaving recently has just confirmed everything I already knew about you. If you could stop interfering with my life, I'd really appreciate it."

"Interfering?" He half snorts, taking a swig on his drink. "You're the one who invited practically my entire department to your little boyfriend's fundraiser."

"I invited their wallets," you correct him, before turning back to Yeonjun. "The usual, please. Four."

He doesn't need to clarify what you're after. He knows the drill. Gets cracking on the starfuckers.

"Icy," Seokjin continues to tease. There's an arrogance to him. Curiosity, too.

You're not the woman who used to cry in his shower and beg him to stay. Your hair is longer, and your wardrobe is less refined. The role you played to be favoured by him is long-forgotten about now.

Stars don't belong in boxes. They'll just burn out. He never got the luxury to see you shine as brightly as you could, and now that he is, he thinks he likes it.

"There's a reason why you kept coming back, or have you forgotten?" He says with a kind of sleaziness you never before attributed to him. When you come to think about it, you realise that maybe you should have. "Need reminding?"

"No. What I really need is for you to gain a little bit of that decorum you like to pretend you have, and then I need you to stop embarrassing yourself," you assure him as you pull your phone from the small clutch bag you've been carrying with you. Flicking open your message thread with Jeongguk, you manage to put together a very tipsy string of messages that tell him to come to the bar. "You're beating a dead horse."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be talking to me right now," he smirks. "And if anything, I'm the horse in this equation, given how much I know you like rid—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, frankly taken aback by his vulgarity.

If there's one thing Seokjin always was when he was with you, it was respectful. Not to you, or your feelings, but to other people's perception of him. For him to be stooping to such a level just to get a rise out of you means one of two things: the insidious 'boys club' nature of his workplace has corrupted him, or that he thinks so little of you that he believes this is what'd make you fold.

"We ended well over a year ago, and you didn't even want to be in that relationship for just as long! Christ alive. You never had trouble getting laid when we were together. Find some other poor woman to bother—or better yet, just go home. Save everyone's sanity."

Seokjin shrugs. Casts his dark eyes down your glitter-speckled body. Smirks. "You know I always want what I can't have."

You're unattainable. Out of his reach. Belong to skies, when his feet are cemented into the sidewalk.

It's not why he's here, though.

You know him too intimately to understand how his brain works.

Kim Seokjin will never be the man he pretends to be. Will always be the lackey of some CEO. Will never quite own a penthouse, even though he'll probably land somewhere a few floors below. His full-potential will never be reached because he doesn't know how to apply himself in a way that isn't intended on bringing other people down.

He won't climb ladders; he'll just drag people beneath his feet to make himself feel taller. Goes through life as if he's wearing Cuban heels, and steps on the toes of anyone who threatens to achieve more than him.

When you were together, he didn't cheat for the forbidden romance of it all, or anything borne in innate human desires. He didn't do it because he particularly liked other women, or because you weren't satisfactory enough. Quite the opposite.

He cheated for the gratification of coming back to you. He'd hold your body with hands that had been covered in the evidence of someone else; tarnish you and leave himself squeaky clean. Was a power trip. An ego stroker.

It's what's fuelling him right now, you think. The way he knows your body and how his hands used to stroke up the curve of your waist. The eroticism of it all. Thoughts like that used to make you shudder. Now, they make you want to dry-heave.

He knows his hands have been replaced with Jeongguk's lips; that your skin is golden where it once was void of anything but markers of Seokjin.

You went to Jeongguk's apartment once after Seokjin had left those very markers on your throat. They were invisible, but you could feel them. His hands, his lips. How tender he'd been with your skin no matter how rough he had been with your heart.

Jeongguk had crafted you a nest out of every single pillow in his home that night. It was almost like he knew birds would play a pivotal role in the both of your lives. Was giving them— you —a safe place to hatch. To bloom. To shine.

Seokjin doesn't want you.

He just wants Jeongguk to be beneath him.

If that means also getting you beneath him in a more literal sense of the word, then so be it.

But as Jeongguk comes to stand in the space between you both, nodding towards Yeonjun with all the nonchalance he can afford, you know that nobody else will ever have you like he does.

Picking up one of the starfuckers, Jeongguk shoots it back. Picks up a second. Looks to you. Softly wraps his hand around your throat and strokes his thumb up towards your earlobe. Holds the shot to your lips. Waits for you to tip your head back ever so gently—and when you do, he slowly pours the liquor into your mouth for you.

Not once does he take his eyes off yours. Not even when you close them to swallow down the familiar sensation of what it feels like to be in love with him. Just naturally happens whenever you drink a starfucker. Always has done.

"Missed you," he tenderly says, as if it hasn't been a matter of minutes.

When he's holding you like this, his strong hand commanding the angle at which you can look at him, you're without any autonomy. You're his, his, his. The presence of a man you barely even remember being with fades into nothingness behind Jeongguk.

An incredibly love-drunk smile finds its way back to your lips. Jeongguk smiles, too, letting the hand holding your neck ease so that his arm can wrap over your shoulders, as yours does the same around his back. Hooked onto one another, physically as much as you are emotionally, there's a unified front to your partnership.

"These ours?" He asks, nodding towards the remaining starfuckers. You nod. Say nothing, 'cause you don't need to. Just squeeze his waist even tighter. Jeongguk glances up to Yeonjun. "Tab? Four more, and two lemonades."

"Right you are, boss," Yeonjun nods, and gets to work.

"Cheers," Jeongguk thanks him, then picks up one of the starfuckers. Turns ever so slightly, but not enough to loosen his grip on you. Smiles in Seokjin's direction. "Want one? They're good. Practically made her fall in love with me, though, so be careful. You might get a crush on me, too."

"Think I'd be fine," Seokjin scoffs back. "I don't tend to fall for charity cases that can only get girls who feel sorry for them."

"You'd be surprised by how much a starfucker could change your tastes," Jeongguk entertains him. "Take B for example. Used to date limp dick losers who couldn't get her off—"

"Gguk!"

"—One starfucker was all it took, and now it's a seven days a week occurrence. Ain't that a beautiful thing?"

Seokjin grates his jaw. Tries not to let it show. Fails.

"So you have to get her drunk to fuck her?" He sneers.

"Nah," Jeongguk laughs a little at such an absurd suggestion. "Just like I wouldn't need to be drunk to tell you to back off."

"Can she not talk for herself?"

He knows damn well you're able to speak for yourself — he just chooses to disregard everything you say.

"Can you not take a hint? You're not welcome," Jeongguk snaps, before swigging down the shot he had offered Seokjin. Is a little aggressive in how he tosses down the plastic shot glass. "Get fucked—by yourself, that is. My girlfriend isn't included in that suggestion."

"I think—"

"Seokjin," you finally sigh, voice laced with contempt. Shaking your head, you really don't know what more you can say to really drive it home. He never cared this much when you were together. "You're embarrassing yourself. Go home. Find a new bar. I don't care. Yes, I used your connections to get more money to the auction, and no, I'm not sorry. Use the money you saved from losing the bid to get a therapist, or a hooker, or anything that'll help you be a little less insufferable. Maybe an STD check, while you're at it."

He could make a crude remark about how he always wore condoms whenever he cheated.

You know this to be true, 'cause you know you tasted the latex on him once. Thinking about it doesn't hurt like it used to. Annoys you more than anything.

Instead, Seokjin concedes. Can feel the eyes of the bartender searing into him. Knows that you're right; he is embarrassing himself.

That was one thing he could never fault you for. You were always right. Each and every time you called him out on his bullshit, you were right to do so.

"You know where to find me whenever you're done fixing whatever's broken with him," Seokjin simply shrugs. Knows you have a complex. That you tried to 'fix' him, too.

"Fixed it already," Jeongguk says, 'cause he isn't letting Seokjin have the last word. "Seriously, man. You lost. Not because I won, but because you were never worthy of winning in the first place. Stay away or don't, but this is always what you're gonna be greeted with. Always."

Seokjin doesn't look at you. He stares Jeongguk out, instead. Smirks, as if he thinks Jeongguk is an idiot, but lets the ambiguity of any words he could speak linger in the air. Decides it will be a little more torment if he leaves you both wondering what he could have said instead.

He just doesn't realise that neither of you could care any less than you already do.

At this point, he's just like an annoying mosquito buzzing around. With any hope, he'll find another blood source he enjoys more and become an irritating presence for someone else instead.

"Christ," Jeongguk mutters, shaking his head when Seokjin finally retreats. Squeezes you tighter and presses a kiss to your cheek, before pulling the fresh drinks made by Yeonjun closer to your side of the bar. "He's fuckin' insufferable, B. The fuck did you ever see in him?"

Jeongguk pours the starfuckers into the lemonades, turning it into a makeshift version of a starlover. It'll do the job, and was easier to order than it would have been to explain the process to Yeonjun in the middle of a busy shift.

"Before we get into that—" you take the drink offered to you by Jeongguk, sipping a little down " —Seven days a week? Really?"

"Oh, c'mon," Jeongguk grins, as he begins to lead you both away from the bar. "You can't be annoyed with me! He was being a tool!"

The door that leads up to the private booths is closed today—none were booked out, and it saves the clean down time if that entire section stays off limits to punters.

Elevated above the dancefloor, the booths are in the balcony section that wraps around the room. People in the booths can see down to the dancefloor below, but you'd be hard pressed trying to look up into the booths from the dancefloor. They offer a little anonymity. Privacy.

It's why Jeongguk stuck Jiyeong and her friends up there on New Years Eve—purely so that he wouldn't have to deal with them.

Jeongguk isn't just any punter, though. He's the one who installed the door to make his life a little bit easier by keeping drunk stragglers out of the booths. Knows the code, 'cause it's just his birthday backwards.

And right now, he wants a little privacy with you.

"You didn't have to be one back!" You reprimand him as he punches in the code for the door, but you're smiling, too. It's not like you actually gave a shit. If anything, it was kind of hot watching him brag so arrogantly.

"I did," he assures you, quickly encouraging you through the door so as to not draw any attention to yourselves. Taps your ass just 'cause he can. Squeeze, again, just 'cause he can. "Didn't want the old man thinking I was a little virgin."

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him away as you begin to head up the stairs. He's right behind you. Is squeezing your ass again as soon as he can be. "No one is ever gonna look at you and think that."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeongguk flirts. "So when we first met, you thought I was some sort of sexed-up fuck boy, huh?"

"No," you innocently offer, stepping up into one of the booths, and sinking down into one of the plush sofas that run along the back wall. "But I did wish you hadn't been behind the bar so I could find out for myself."

Jeongguk puts his drink on the table in front of the booth sofas, then comes and plonks himself right down next to you. Is practically on your lap. Doesn't care. Is like a fully-grown dog who doesn't realise he's not a puppy anymore.

You just let him. Personal space is null and void.

"Oh? So you went home with Jimin 'cause I turned you on?" He nods to himself. Smirks. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. "Nice."

"Shut up," you laugh, a little scandalised that he's mentioning it so carelessly.

Jeongguk's got half a dozen starfuckers in his system, and does not care for tact. In fact, if he had it his way, he'd set the world to rights. Would make that ancient wish of yours come true, now that he isn't behind the bar.

You set about neatly arranging his hair as he steals your drink from your hand to take a sip.

"You were so pretty," he quietly says. Wraps his hand around your wrist to stop you from preening. Pulls your knuckles to his lips and presses a tender kiss against them. It comes naturally, being like this. "Still are. But that first night... Fuck. Spent my whole shift watching out for you. Was gutted when I got home and you were there."

It was so long ago now that it's almost hard to believe Jeongguk remembers it as clearly as he thinks he does.

"Looking for somewhere to charge your phone," he laughs softly, shaking his head, as he recounts the memories. "Just for you to end up forgetting it. What will we do with you, hey? Silly, pretty baby."

Your face scrunches up at his recollection of the details. Had you never gone home with Jimin, then perhaps you'd have never ended up here—but you kind of wish it had never happened. Wish that you'd stayed by the bar all night. That you'd have had the water Jeongguk gave you. That you'd have sobered up by the time he finished his shift, and asked if he wanted to walk you home.

The 'you' of present day is not the you that shot through the bar that night with reckless abandon for who got blinded by your shine. You wouldn't have stayed, if you'd have gone home with Jeongguk. Or wouldn't have asked him to stay. Would have fucked him and never spoken to him again.

Or maybe you wouldn't have. Who knows?

"Sorry it was all so... messy," you offer a little sheepishly.

Bad decisions were made by you both—but stars can only form when dust clouds collapse. You needed to break a little before you could become who you were meant to be.

Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Messy can be good," he promises, then adjusts you both. Pulls you across his lap. With a leg either side of his, you let your nose find its home next to his. Smile as his hands stroke up your back.

"Yeah?" You whisper against his lips.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, letting his lips sink into yours for a moment, before adding, "Got a canvas we made together that proves it."

The curve of your lips as you press into the kiss can be felt by him. Just gets him smiling, too. As his lip ring presses into your plump bottom lip, part of you wishes you were back in those damn busan photobooths. Want to see what it looks like. How you move together.

Slowly, he encourages your hips to languidly grind. Keeps the momentum slow, you both ignore the chaos of the club that echoes around you. He controls you with a hand on your waist, the other resting on your bare thigh.

The dress you're in—the one he chose—is everything he could ever want and more from an outfit on your body. It sparkles like the Han river under Banpo bridge during the evening light show, and clings to your body like droplets of water slowly sinking down an ice sculpture. Provides him with easy access, yet leaves his imagination free to go wild.

He knows your body well enough, now though. Knows the underwear you're wearing. Is impatient. Wants to push them to the side and get his hard cock buried in your tight walls.

Good things come to those who wait, though, and Jeongguk is more than willing to be a good boy for you.

Hidden in the darkness of the club, the thudding music is no match for the beat of your hearts. Lights splash you in colour every so often, but for the most part, you revel in your obscured entanglement.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss. You can feel how hard he is beneath you as you grind on his lap. It'd be easy, you think, to fuck him right now.

Jeongguk is right—good things do come to those who wait.

And he's been such a good boy.

You let your lips trail down to his throat. Latch on to his sweet spot just beneath his ear. Suck. Graze your teeth. Do the same to his earlobe, and feel his grip tighten. A moan vibrates in his throat.

Lips brushing against his ear, you whisper, "Phone."

Though your tone is soft, Jeongguk knows it's a command. Digs into his back pocket, keeping you firmly in place. The movement just has his thick bulge pressing even deeper against you, as his grip on your waist gets tighter.

It has you smiling; giddy with how glorious it is to have a man of such calibre so greedy for you.

It's not like it isn't reciprocal. Never before have you ever been so feral for a partner; so risky in your need to have them experiencing bliss because of you. Before Jeongguk, sex always served a purpose. Was never just sex for the sake of sex. There were deep-rooted issues and insecurities you were trying to fix.

But you're secure, now; in his grip, his hands, his heart. You don't have any ulterior motive for the things you do other than an innate need to make Jeongguk come undone. His buttons, his belts, his primal need to make you his; you'll undo them all.

Flicking open his camera, you stay in his lap as you reach across the sofa and rest the phone up against the wall that separates it from the next booth over. Tap on the little red record button. Though the lighting isn't entirely clear, enough bleeds in from the LED screens behind the DJ to clearly show the pair of you. Once his camera settings adjust to low light, you may as well have the main lights turned on.

Jeongguk raises a brow, tilting his head with sweet, puppy-like confusion.

"We're drunk," you tell him, as if either of you need any liquor to behave like animals. "Wanna make sure you remember this in the morning."

Jeongguk's hips push upwards as his hands on your waist keep you tight against his lap. "You think I ever forget fucking you?"

"Who said anything about fucking?" You tease with a smirk, biting down on your bottom lip.

He groans.

"If you blue ball me again, I'll die," he tells you. Flails a little. Leans back against the booth. Pouts. Wait for you to lean closer and deliver a pretty little kiss to make him feel better.

"We can't fuck here," you tell him with complete certainty, as if that's not exactly what you're hoping for. "Anyone could see us."

No one would be able to see you in this position, and you damn well know it, but it still feels incredibly exposed. You're a few metres from your friends and hundreds of other random club-goers. If you were to peep over the balcony railings, your hiding spot would be revealed.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. "Everyone knows we fuck. Bet you they've imagined it. And you know how pretty you are when you cum? Everyone deserves to see that at least once in their life, B."

"We're gonna end up at an orgy one day, aren't we?" You tease him for his sheer unrelenting need to show you off.

He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Ain't no way anyone else is ever gonna touch you."

"No?"

"No," he tells you, stroking his hand up your chest and tightening his grip around the base of your throat. "You only cum for me."

It's a statement just as much as it is a command.

The thoughts are in Jeongguk's head now, though. You, and those cosmic calamities you call your eyes, and how they'd stare him out as someone else fucked you. The feeling gets under his skin and pollutes his heart. Pumps sulphur into his veins. Turns his blood green.

"Say it," he grits, as his hands move down to cup your chest. "Tell me who you cum for."

Yanking down the material of the top of your dress, Jeongguk wastes no time. Repeats a similar action with the cups of your bra. Gets your chest exposed.

If either of you were to look at his phone screen, you'd find your silhouettes look like fuckin' sin—but all you can focus on is him.

His lips latch around one of your nipples, harshly sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand massages at the other, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Head tipping back, you continue grinding against him. Don't give him an answer 'cause it feels too good to focus on anything else but the sensation of him.

You indulge in the sheer volume of the club speakers. Moan without reservation. Gasp as he pulls away and delivers a sharp spank to your tit, before latching onto your other nipple.

The way your hips grind even deeper against him is testament to how badly you want him; the wetness seeping through your underwear and onto his trousers.

He grazes his teeth against your nipple. Makes you shudder. Licks. Kisses. Sucks again, then pulls away with an oh-so-satisfying pop. Holding your chest with his hands, Jeongguk is stern as he repeats: "Tell me who you cum for."

You could do it. Could say him. Could do as he asks.

Thing is, you don't think he really wants that.

You think he wants to be mean.

And you know you want him to be mean.

With a small shrug, you widen your eyes. Feign innocence. Like butter wouldn't melt, you suppose, "Anyone who touches me right."

He scoffs.

There's a look in Jeongguk's eyes that promises you that he'll get you leant against that damn balcony while he fucks you just to prove a point—not only to you, but to any fucker who thinks they could ever make you feel the way he does.

"Word?" He grits.

"Chess," you say without hesitation.

It's the green light he needs, but still he tells you, "Gonna be mean."

As much as he enjoys playing the roles of a person he's not when he fucks you, he also never wants you to ever take it to heart. Loves you so purely that he'll always do what he can to keep you comfortable.

It's cute.

Also entirely irrelevant right now, 'cause you want him to be mean.

"You're gonna try ," you tease.

Jeongguk scoffs, again. Likes how bratty you can be. Smirks. Knocks his head to the side. Shakes it. Grips your tits a little harder, then spanks one of them and is pleased with how your body jolts.

A wanton moan escapes your lips. Eyes on his, you're Jeongguk's to devour.

"You think anyone else could get you like this, huh?" He grits, dropping a hand to your spread legs. Sinks his hand between his crotch and yours. Is greeted with evidence of your arousal. Strokes his fingers against you. Gathers some of your slick on his fingers, and is ever so pleased when your lips part for him without a word. Sinking his fingers into your wet, wanting mouth, Jeongguk smirks. "Needy little slut."

The vibration of your moan around his fingers just confirms everything Jeongguk already knows.

He laughs. Is arrogant. Cocksure. Obscenely hot. Your brows furrow as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, before he grips the base of your throat again.

"If you aren't gonna use that mouth to give me serious answers, you're gonna use it for something else instead, aren't you?"

Oh, you're eager . Don't need telling twice. Are off his lap and sinking between his legs without even so much as a guided instruction.

"That's it," he husks as you quickly undo his belt. His trousers, too. Tug them down his thighs. Get his Calvins on show, and his furiously hard cock tenting in them. Your lips press kisses against the fabric, tongue wetting his shaft through the cotton. "Stop fuckin' teasing, baby. Suck it."

If there's one thing you know about Jeongguk, it's that he gets whiny when he doesn't get his own way. On your knees, eyes flicking up to his lust-laced features, you're not gonna be a good girl for him just 'cause he wants you to be. You're gonna hold out. Gonna get him whiny. Gonna—

"You know how many girls down there want this cock, huh? How many waste their time at the bar vying for my attention?" Jeongguk arrogantly smirks. Watches the change in your expression. The hardening of your eyes. The power relinquishing from you to him. The sulphur that's transferred. The club lights paint you in green. He licks his lips. Says, "If I want my cock sucked, I can get it sucked. Give me a reason not to."

Back in the early days, you and Jeongguk had been through his message requests together. He'd downplayed it, but you know it's true. Girls practically drool on the Dionysus bar for him.

If he wanted to, he could.

But he wants you.

Only ever wants you.

You're feeling challenged, though. Are petty. Shrug, "You know how many people hit on me by that very bar?"

He does. Has seen it himself. And has also seen how quickly you dismiss it. Never feels threatened.

Your hands work in tandem, one of them pushing up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his toned abs, the other tugging down on his boxers, revealing his cock.

There's something celestial about having Jeongguk like this. Hard and weak at the exact same time. The tip of his cock has the sheen of precum spilling from his slit, and you don't think you've ever seen him this hard. He's needy. Pathetic. Gorgeous.

Your tongue licks a stripe up his shaft, and Jeongguk's eyes close. His hand finds a home in your hair as his gaze lands on you again.

"I could do this for them," you assure him. Though the music is loud, Jeongguk reads your lips. Twitches as your tongue flicks against his slit. Lips pressing a kiss to his tip, you jerk him a little just to remind him of who is in the position of power right now. "Could fuck anyone I want."

Jeongguk smiles at this. Finds it funny. Cute, even.

"You could," he acknowledges. Tightens his grip on your hair. Gets you back in position, your lips wrapping around his cock as he begins to encourage a momentum. "But I'm still the only one who'll make you cum, aren't I? Could slut yourself out, but it's still me you'll be thinking about. Me you'll be wishing you were with. Me who you'll crawl back to 'cause no one else satisfies you."

With every sentence, he fucks his cock deeper into your mouth. Is practically hitting the back of your throat. Getting your eyes all watery—and he knows your pussy is even wetter.

He lets you do the hard work, but makes sure he pushes your head to the right rhythm. Keeps your movements shallow, focused on his tip, now. Is after one thing and one thing only.

Which is why when he starts moaning in a way that you know means he's close, you pull away.

"Fuck," he hisses, almost keeling over in his seat. The look he gives you is one of sheer disbelief.

"What?" You smile as if butter wouldn't melt. Pretend like you didn't realise he was about to spill over. "You wanna cum, or something?"

"You know I—"

"Go get one of your other girls, then."

Dragging you up onto his lap, Jeongguk laughs, clutches the sides of your face with his hands. Nudges his nose against yours. Doesn't care to keep up the pretence anymore, 'cause he's sensing a nerve was struck.

Even if you are just being petulant for the sake of it, he doesn't ever want you to feel like it's a viable option. Says, "You know I don't want anyone else. Stupid."

"S'not what you said," you childishly pout against his lips. You know damn well he didn't mean it. Honestly, hearing him speak with such arrogance was a turn on; the acknowledgement that even though he's desired, you know he's chosen you. "You said—"

"Hey—you said you could fuck anyone down there," he reminds you. Presses a feathery kiss against the tip of your nose. "And you could. I don't want you to, though."

"No?"

"No, Byeol," Jeongguk whispers against your lips now. Lets his hand sink to your underwear. Pushes them to the side. Lines you up against his shaft. Encourages you to rock ever so gently, coating him in everything you are. "Want you forever, B. Just you and me. You want that, hmm? This, forever?"

Jeon Jeongguk has this way of making you feel powerful and pathetic all within the same moment. You want him so badly it hurts. And so you nod. Raise your hips. Line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Remind him, "No one else makes you feel like I do. They never will."

It's funny, 'cause that's exactly what Jeongguk was wanting to hear from you earlier. If he really wanted, he could be a dick—but you're the one being needy now, and he likes it so much. Adores it, even. You're so cute , he thinks. So he shakes his head. "No one, baby. Just you."

"You're mine," you tell him, then sink down onto his length. Both of you gasp from the sensation. You've been waiting for this; desperate for it. Foreplay is fun, but all Jeongguk ever wants these days is to utterly and completely lose himself in you. This, to him, is Nirvana.

He nods. Lets his eyes close as your walls adjust to his size. He's so big that it should be painful, but there's something about fucking Jeongguk that just works. The fit is snug, but it's perfect. "Yeah, baby. Yours."

Your hips grind ever so gently, the feeling of fullness he gives you hitting just right. Clit rubbing against his neatly trimmed patch of hair above the base of his cock, you're overwhelmed with just how good it feels to give yourself up for him.

As the sensation settles in, he encourages your movements. Gets you bouncing, his hands on your ass to keep control. Presses wet kisses to the base of your throat. Promises, "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

A man of traditions, Jeongguk takes 'ladies first' incredibly seriously. Knows he's been edged so well this evening that he won't last long at all. Needs to make sure you get there before him.

He sits you up straight. Stops your movements. Has you warming his cock as he just kind of stares at you for a moment. Everything else is drowned out around you both; the music, the lights, the fact this is Jeongguk's place of work, the way his phone is still recording you both.

With a hand on your waist, he holds your cheek with the other. Smiles as your eyes close, head sinking into his touch. Is so in love with you it feels like his heart might just explode.

"My pretty girl," he grins, biting down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head as if he can't believe his luck.

Your chest is exposed, pretty purple posies blooming on your skin from his lips. There's a sheen of glitter all over your body, and Jeongguk knows there must be one on his, too. It's getting harder to distinguish the pair of you as the days go by; your orbit growing smaller.

Both of his hands drop your pussy. One spreads your lips, while the other slowly rubs against your clit. Instantly, you tense a little, the pleasure pulsing through you.

"My pretty, needy girl," he corrects himself, and is incredibly pleased when you nod.

As one of your hands wraps around his wrist, you try your hardest to not start fucking him again. Want this feeling to persevere, but also innately want to coax an orgasm out of him. It's human nature. He's building you up. You wanna do the same right back.

Thick and firm inside you, Jeongguk's cock throbs from just how tightly your walls clamp around him when he begins toying with your clit. Head tipping back, the laugh that stutters in Jeongguk's chest has you whining.

"Stop being so hot," he groans. "Gonna make me cum so fuckin' fast."

Admitting this is a mistake, for it just makes you wanna interrupt his plans of making your finish first. Gets your ass bouncing on his map as Jeongguk desperately tries to hold himself back; to regain a little control. It's a fruitless endeavour. The silky warmth of your cunt is too good.

"Fuck," he grits, giving into the feeling. "B—"

His words are cut off by your lips stealing a kiss from him, that he then steals right back. Messy and without any considered thought behind them, your kisses dissolve into frantic, breathless whimpers. Jeongguk can't hold off.

Head knocking back, Jeongguk's grip on your waist tightens. He holds you down in place, his thick shaft filling you entirely. He's bottomed out; fully encased in the woman he loves. It's too fuckin much. His legs shake. Chest shudders.

And then it's happening; thick ropes of cum spurting into your cunt, filling the spaces he can't reach. He just wines. Whimpers. Curses. "Fuck. Cumming. Making me cum so fuckin' hard, babe. Fuck. Oh, fuck, this cunt. So fuckin' perfect."

His praise is met with the sweetest of giggles, which only encourage him to cum even harder . Both endless and over far too soon, Jeongguk cums so deeply inside you it feels like he's losing all the oxygen in his brain; like a trap door has been pulled beneath him and he'll never stop falling.

Lips finding yours once more, he eases his grip on your hips. Encourages slow strokes of your pussy up and down his cock just to ease the final spurts of cum out of him.

With a laugh and an incredibly heavy chest Jeongguk leans back once more. Shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. Nor can you.

When his gaze finally lands on you a moment or so later, he's still grinning as he whines, "I wanted to make you cum first."

As mad as it sounds, making Jeongguk cum is satisfying enough for you.

He would disagree. Thinks the concept of you not cumming is pure insanity. How anyone could have you like this and not strive to make you come undone is criminal. Also knows he can't stay inside you for much longer, 'cause the overstimulation might just kill him off.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Jeongguk leverages his position. Lays you down, your head near his phone, his cock still inside you. Kisses the base of your throat as he reaches up for his phone. It's warm from the battery being drained, but it's still recording. He leans across and stands it up against one of your drinks on the table. Not much is in frame—but enough to capture his soaked cock glistening under the club lights as he pulls out of you.

Jeongguk is impatient. Tucks himself into his boxers and sinks down immediately. Plugs your hole with his fingers, keeping his cum inside you. Latches his lips around your clit. Sucks. Whines. Vibrates. Makes you writhe as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head.

If heaven is a place on earth, Jeongguk knows it must be between your legs.

His tongue strokes against you as his fingers curl. There's little care given to how messy it all is. If anything, it just makes him like it even more. Wants to fuck you all over again, but knows his cock isn't up for it yet, even if he is.

There's a small shudder to your body; a little warning sign that Jeongguk is edging you closer and closer to coming undone. Just a little more and you'll be there.

He withdraws his fingers, and sinks his tongue to your entrance. Gathers his cum on his tongue, then spreads it all over your needy cunt. Lays claim to you in a way that no one ever has before. Spits. Flicks his tongue so rapidly against your clit it's hard to comprehend. Gets you shaking. Shuddering.

And then he's sucking, fingers plugging you once more. Your body writhes, and he holds you in place. Sucks harder. Fingers faster. Shakes his head, still sucking on your clit. Releases your with pop and then delves back in.

You whine his name, but it's obscured by the bass pumping through the speakers. All you can do is focus on him. How he feels. How much he wants you to feel good, and how well he succeeds at it.

The pressure builds like a star about to burst—and then stardust is scattering around you both, your orgasm disrupting the very atmosphere you're orbiting in.

Sparking through you, the sensation of your orgasm almost makes you fucking cry. Your body shakes. Jeongguk doesn't relent. Goes until you're spent, legs jolting, whimpers pathetic.

Overstimulated and overwhelmed, you encourage him up. Get his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth. The taste of his cum intertwined with yours only serves to make you whine even more.

The pair of you are spent and sticky, and somehow still desperate for another.

He's the one who eases up first. Pulls back. Presses kisses all over your face. Your neck. Your chest. Your lips once more. Whispers with a smirk, "You got jealous ."

"Didn't," you pout a little.

"Did," he grins, letting his body collapse on yours, 'cause there's no way he wants to go back down to the dancefloor. Not yet. "Jealous and possessive."

"Says you," you huff a little, stroking up and down his still-clothed back with the tips of your nails. Part of you wishes you were home, in bed, clothes tangled in a pile on the floor. It's okay, though. You know it's where you'll end up.

Head on your chest, Jeongguk holds your tits just 'cause he can. Gets one of your nipples in his mouth, again just 'cause he can. Sucks. Pulls back just to say, "Oh, yeah. I was. Fucking hate the idea of you with anyone else." His lips latch around your nipple again, until he takes a second to add, "I'm literally in love with you."

You're caught between laughing and moaning when his lips wrap around your other nipple. There's no reason for him to be toying with you in the way that he is. Both of you have finished. He's just doing it 'cause he likes it.

"You're in love with my tits," you brush off his declaration.

Shaking his head, nipple still in his mouth, he looks up at you. Poutily lets your nipple slip from his lips. Assures you, "I'm an ass guy," then presses your tits together to get both of your nipples in his mouth at the same time.

"You're an ass, full stop," you laugh. "Lucky I love you."

Now this does pull his attention away from your chest.

"Yeah?" He grins, repositioning himself so that his nose can nudge against yours. On top of you, his chain pools against your chin—and then his lips are sinking into yours, pretty kisses taking the place of needless declarations. You both know exactly how you feel about one another.

"Yeah," you nod into his kisses. "So much."

By the time you finish your mindless chatter in the form of aftercare, Jeongguk's phone has a low battery warning on the screen. Neither of you even wanna think about how long that damn video must be.

You set the world to rights; finish your drinks, and cosy up together just to indulge in a little more time alone—but the night is getting away from you. Your friends will be wondering where you are.

Glancing around to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, Jeongguk's face bunches up when he clocks the security camera he'd forgotten about in the corner of the booth. Nods, to drag your attention to it.

"Yeonjun's gonna have a field day with that one," you grimace.

"I'll delete it before he can," Jeongguk promises you.

Far more sober than you both were earlier, Jeongguk deposits you off with your friends when you get back down to the dancefloor. Ignores their questioning of where you've both been. Gives you a quick kiss before he goes to the bar.

Yeonjun's brows seem to be perpetually raised—but it's just 'cause his eyes caught the glimmer of the booth door being opened half an hour ago, and knows damn well exactly where Jeongguk has been.

The fact that Jeongguk's hair is pointing in all different directions only confirms exactly what Yeonjun thinks he must have been doing.

"Need to go into the office," Jeongguk tells Yeonjun, but is met with the shake of his head.

"No need," Yeonjun deadpans. Leans a little bit closer. Assures him, "Cameras are off. Your secrets are safe, boss."

Jeongguk wants to die. Not for the fun reasons he normally does, but for the sheer embarrassment of his junior almost reprimanding him.

He also doesn't trust the cerulean-haired fucker as far as he can throw him.

"I'm still gonna check."

"Fine. But you'll owe me 20,000."

"Huh?"

"It's a bet," Yeonjun says. "I bet you 20,000 that they're off."

If Jeongguk wasn't already convinced, he is now. Yeonjun hates losing these dumb bets.

Still, Jeongguk agrees.

Not even two minutes later, he's walking back by the bar, chewing on minty gum that's kept in the office for far more innocent purposes than this, dropping two 10,000 won notes down for Yeonjun.

"You're welcome!" Yeonjun shouts after Jeongguk with a smug grin. Shakes his head. Puts on the thick accent of an old man and mutters to himself, "Kids these days. Randy bastards. No decorum. No class. Just hormones and bad decisions."

But as Jeongguk is drawn to you in the crowd, like a stargazer is drawn to Polaris, he knows that for all the bad decisions he's ever made, there is one universal truth: No decision has ever been better than making you starfuckers on that very first night.

Arm looping over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to the side of your head. Steals Jimin's drink from him. Gags when he realises it's neat tequila. Offers it to you regardless. Apologises when you also gag.

The night is lost to Dionysus. Just like its namesake, the club is a cesspit of sin and debauchery, but it's impossible not to love the way it feels.

You don't leave until the final song of the night.

"My place or yours?" Jeongguk asks as you meander down the street together, a little behind the rest of your friends. With convenience store snacks in your hands, Jeongguk's phone dead in his back pocket and your clutch bag in his hands, the pair of you are the poster children of a reckless youth maturing into something far better.

Gone are the days of seeking out new strangers, or living for the weekends.

This is it, you think. An endless back and forth of his place, or yours, until one day it'll become obsolete.

So you indulge in what little you have left of the early days. "Yours."

"You know Jimin'll wanna watch The Notebook in the morning, right?" He reminds you with a smile. Is at such ease with his life. Isn't sure what he did to deserve it all.

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Choosing to walk the half an hour distance it takes to get back to Jeongguk's place, instead of opting for a taxi like the others to their respective homes, you and Jeongguk revel in the early hours of the morning. Talk nonsense. Talk business. Talk nonsense about business.

Time wasted with him is really not wasted at all. Even if the sun is coming up by the time you're entering his building, nodding at the doorman, neither of you are tired of one another. It's hard to imagine a reality where that would ever be true.

When you reach his apartment door, both of you stop in your tracks. It's still on the latch. Ajar. He glances over to you, brows furrowed. Steps in front of you, tucking you in behind him.

Says, "Keep quiet."

Slowly edging the door open, the entryway is a mess. Where a neat pile of shoes typically sits, clothes are strewn. It confuses him for a second—until he hears something that makes him dry heave.

He pushes the door fully open, and is met by Jimin cosplaying as his best Jeongguk impression, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. His hands are over his crotch, naked and bare for all to see. Behind him, a half-naked girl darts to his room.

Both you and Jeongguk look at Jimin with equal parts shock and horror.

"At least close the bloody door!" Jeongguk almost shrieks.

"I thought you were going to DB's!"

"Well apparently not—wait," Jeongguk looks around the room. Recognises the clothes. So do you. Knows exactly who was wearing them earlier that evening. Gasps. Whisper-shouts, "Is that—"

"Shut up!" Jimin whisper-hisses back, and retreats backwards, hands still covering his modesty as if neither you nor Jeongguk have ever seen it before. "You didn't see shit!"

He escapes into his room, and you do hear his lock go, just to be safe.

Both you and Jeongguk look at each other in a state of shock. It's only broken when you say, "Well I guess he won't be watching The Notebook tomorrow."

But Jeongguk shakes his head. Nods towards the deep navy dress that's crumpled on the floor beside Jimin's shirt. The same dress Nabi had been in earlier that evening. Says, "It's her favourite film. She's the reason he watches it."

And on the counter, rests a flyer from the gallery event. It's folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Looks like the ones Jeongguk always attributed to Hayun.

It's only now that he realises he'd been wrong this whole time.

Just like Jimin watched The Notebook 'cause the girl he could never seem to get over loved it, Hayun made paper butterflies, 'cause her best friend taught her how to make them. Said it'd be a good little party trick to make boys fall in love with her.

And it had been—but it had also just been an entirely fabricated part of her personality. The irony of it all isn't lost on Jeongguk. All he can do is laugh. It confirms everything he already knew: he never understood love until you came along.

"What is it with us and walking in our housemates shagging?" You laugh as you kick off your shoes, unaware of Jeongguk's realisation. Sure he'd told you about Hayun's butterflies before you made your first birds, but it was so long ago that it's a distant memory, now.

"No idea," Jeongguk grins as he follows suit. Holds your hand as you head towards his bathroom. Forgets to grab his towels, but doesn't care even when he remembers. Will risk the naked dash across his apartment later. All he wants is to be with you right now. "We're not far off, though. Yoongi practically caught us at it earlier."

You hum as Jeongguk starts the shower, checking yourself over in the mirror as you discard your dress. The hickies bestowed upon you are ridiculous. The teasing from your friends will be relentless.

"Maybe we should stop being so reckless," you suppose with a glint in your eyes that Jeongguk catches as he turns to study you in the mirror. Slipping your dress off, you keep your eyes on him.

"Where's the fun in that?" He grins, coming to stand behind you. Dipping his lips to the base of your neck, his hands hold your hips. His kisses are gentle. Sleepy.

"So you want to get caught?"

"Never said that," he mumbles. "But I do want everyone to know you're mine, so if that's what it takes..."

"A ring would do the job just fine," you tell him without much thought. "Far less embarrassing, too."

Jeongguk rests his pointy chin on your shoulder. Looks at you in the mirror. "A ring?"

It's only now that you realise the gravity of what you've said. You're tired and your brain isn't really functioning right and oh god—you've barely even been dating for five minutes. It's too soon for any of that.

"Well I've already got a necklace," you try and downplay it, reaching up to touch the silver bird that sits between your collarbones. "Earrings work, too."

Jeongguk smirks. Stands. Rids himself of clothes, and walks to the shower. Tests the temperature of the water. Nonchalantly says, "Always thought you hated the idea of marriage."

"It's archaic," you casually reply, unclasping your bra, and letting it drop to the floor. Jeongguk's eyes are all over you. There's nothing about you he doesn't adore—your need to bicker with him included. "The tax benefits are nice, though."

He nods as you discard your underwear. Says, "I'd make you sign a prenup. Wouldn't want you stealing all my sculptures in the divorce."

" Action figures ," you correct him, joining him in the shower. He doesn't get a chance to argue back, for you're on your tippy toes and pressing a kiss against his lips to remedy the insult you know he's about to feign. "And you're already planning the divorce? That's not very promising. May as well not get married."

He shrugs. "Just making sure I have my ducks in a row before I commit to anything."

"Virgo," you accusingly tease, narrowing your eyes with a terribly hidden smile.

"What was it you said about Virgos?" He teases right back. "That we're written in the stars?"

You can bicker and you can argue all you like—but when Jeongguk has you in his sheets a little while later, curled up against his chest, softly settling into sleep like stardust into the atmosphere, he knows it must be true.

"Sweet dreams, B," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You mumble a response, half asleep already. Let him do as he pleases as he pulls your hand up to his lips. Barely register it when a tender kiss is pressed to your empty ring finger.

"Obsessed," you murmur against his chest—but also delicately press a kiss right where you know his heart is.

He just nods. Yawns. "Obsessed."

[megamindsecretlair]

Stitch me where my heart bleeds

Pairing: Choso x Black!Fem!Black!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only, MINORS DNI, you are in charge of your own reading experience. Just smut. No thoughts. I get to zooting and the thots write themselves. PIV, fingering (female receiving), hand job (male receiving), cursing, praise kink, slight possession kink, reader is obsessed with her man, needy choso

Summary: It's too damn hot outside. But not hot enough to get loved on by Choso.

Word count: 2,021k

A/N: I was too lazy to get my ass up and type this on a computer. So I take full responsibility for this one. I'm just feral and need my baby 😭

Taglist: @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @westside-rot

Like, just imagine that it's a hot summer night right. The type of heat where the fan blows hot air and you lay across your bed with no shirt or bra on. Even your panties were too hot to have on.

But you can't resist laying as close as possible to Choso. His warm chest is against your back. You felt his breath even out as every inch of him molded against every inch of you.

Your poor baby's love language is physical touch. He craved it. And you wouldn't deny him a thing. You played with his hair or scratched his shoulder, reassuring him with small gestures that he's the love of your life.

But like, also imagine that he's in a needy mood. Pushing his hips against yours. Rubbing his fat dick into your ass as he grinds against you. Practically fucking you already.

His large hands grip your hip. His breath tickles your neck. He nuzzles his nose against your skin, smelling your intoxicating eucalyptus and spearmint lotion.

"Choso," you whisper into the quiet night. There was only the whir of the fan above and his breaths against your skin. You moved your arm back so that you could run your fingers through his long, silky hair. You dislodged his careful bun, letting his inky hair spill out over you and the bed.

Choso moaned in your ear and kissed your neck. "Need you," he murmured. His voice was its own aphrodisiac. The rumbling sounds reverberated against your back and sent shivers through your veins.

You moved your hand from his hair to his body and then to his dick. He twitched in your hand and gasped sharply, ending it with a slight moan.

He ran his fingers up and down your side, from the swell of your breasts, past your hip, skating over your thigh and almost touching your knee. Then, he would begin the torture in reverse, trailing a lazy line back to the underside of your breasts, stopping to flick at your hardened nipple.

You moaned and gripped him harder, massaging the base of his dick just the way he liked. He hissed and then released a ragged moan that made you gush.

"You make me so wet, baby," you cooed to Choso.

"Let me feel it," he groaned in your ear. He moved his hand to the apex of your thighs. His fingers played with your wet curls before nudging your pussy lips open and fingering your clit.

He sighed as he made contact and you clenched around nothing, filling up with so much wanton need.

"You're such a good girl, getting so wet so fast for me. That must be a new record, huh?" He asked.

You cried out, body shaking viciously. You spat on your hand and then returned it to Choso's thick dick. He groaned and ground into your hand. Your fingers grazed his balls and he growled in your ear. You huffed a giggle and then returned to stroking his shaft.

"Good girls behave," he said.

"Fuck, yes, Choso. I'll be good, I swear," you moaned.

Choso used his middle finger to circle your clit in tight circles, applying pressure and it made you see stars. You were close to cumming. So close to that sweet relief.

"You promise to be good?" He asked.

You nodded. His shifted his position, bringing his other arm around your neck. He used his thumb to trace your lips.

"I can't hear you," he said and grunted as you played with his tip. Beads of precum gathered, enough for you to fully lubricate the head. Your flicked your thumb against the tip and he moaned.

You sucked his thumb into your mouth. "Yes, I promise to be good," you managed to say.

"Yeah? Be good for me and cum on my fingers?" He asked.

He slipped his fingers from your clit to your pussy, plunging two fingers inside of you.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" Your body exploded on his fingers. Your essence soaked his fingers, down to the knuckle. Sweat beaded against your skin, sticking you to him molecule by molecule.

He pumped his fingers into you, moving his hips in much the same rhythm. It was difficult to concentrate on getting him off by your hand when your world was falling apart.

Atoms burst apart in your vision, breaking the known universe down piece by tiny piece. Your body twitched and jolted. You flopped, back bowing, as the powerful orgasm ripped through you.

As it's cruelly delicious grip on you lessened, you fell back onto the bed with a heavy pant, trying to suck in all the oxygen that leaked from your brain.

You twitched with aftershocks, and Choso pressed kisses to your warm brown cheeks. "So good. So well. You did so great, baby. I'm so proud of you," he said in between kisses.

His kisses grew louder in nature, wet smacks filling the room. The whir of the fan did shit all to cool you down, but it was almost enough to get the air moving.

Your brain short circuited as he heaped you with praises. Telling you how proud he was, how he had so much faith in you. "You did so well, baby. You deserve another one," he said, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear. Your skin tingled there and you half sighed, half laughed.

Choso removed his fingers from your dripping pussy and brought it to his lips. He took his time sucking on his fingers, moaning at your taste. Whatever he couldn't get to, he circled around your nipples.

You twisted your thick thighs together, needing friction and relief. You felt bad but you gave up trying to get him off. You'll pay him back later. You'll suck the curse out of his damn body if it meant that he'd let you cum again right this second.

"You're so good to me, baby," you moaned.

You licked his thumb, resting on your lips. He nibbled on your ear as he nudged your legs apart.

"You ready for this dick?" He asked.

He moved your panties aside and slipped his dick through your wet folds, a soft smacking sound reaching your ears.

You gasped at the heavenly sensation. It felt good but it wasn't enough, ultimately. You needed more. You needed him to get as close as possible. You needed to stitch your hearts together and forever live in the comfort of his body.

"Yes, baby. Yes, please. Please fuck me, please. I'm so needy," you begged and pleaded.

A deep ache settled right down to your bones. You clutched and gripped at the dark sheets beneath you, nails pawing at the linen.

"I love it when you beg," he groaned. He lined himself up to your entrance, slipping easily inside of you. You gasped at the thickness of him. The size of him.

"Fuck, pleaaaase," you cried. Fuck if you knew what you were begging for now. For him to speed up? For him to slow down? You'd be lucky if you knew your own name should someone ask right now.

All you knew was that he felt so fucking good. He tightened his arm around your throat, placing enough pressure on your throat to take notice, but leaving you enough room to breathe comfortably. He had amazing self control and balance.

He slipped further inside, shoving into your warm, wet walls. He groaned with every inch gained, every centimeter further inside. "So fuckin' good. Ugv, taking me too well."

His large hand encircled your breast, squeezing, as he moved inside of you. If you squinted hard enough, he was kissing the edge of your cervix and you came on the spot.

"Oh, FUCK!" You yelled. God, this hurt. This was glorious. You couldn't breathe. Who the hell needed oxygen? You were ripped apart by each wave of pleasure that coursed through you.

"Made f'me," he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hair spilled over your chest, tickling your breasts. Your breaths came out in choppy waves. Your nails dug half moon marks into his thigh, lightly dusted with hair.

"C-Ch-Choso," you sobbed on his dick.

Whether it was your cry or the way you gripped his dick, either could be the cause for Choso whimpering his way to an orgasm, spilling hot cum into you.

You matched him with moans and curses. And whatever other kind of sounds you didn't know you could make.

His hips slapped roughly against your ass. "Fuuuuck," he groaned.

You gripped him tighter, clenching with all your might as if you could trap him there. Trap him in that singular moment where you were as close as you could be to him. Sometimes it downright hurt your heart that you couldn't get closer.

Choso came down from his high, stilling against your body as he huffed and panted. He once more gave you gentle kisses to your temple and cheeks. He kissed the corner of your mouth.

"You did so well, baby. Thank you. Thank you for being my good girl."

Your brain went fuzzy around the edges. You melted against him, no longer in your body but in some other ethereal place. You should've never told him about your praise kink. Now he used it whenever possible to torture your mind as often as he tortured your body.

"Thank you, baby," you told him.

Choso slipped out slowly, like he was trying to imprint this sensation or moment on his dick and relive it again. He sighed when he finally popped free.

A rush of cum leaked out behind him and you groaned, top teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Fuck," you whispered.

Choso stood up from the bed and then roughly opened your legs so that he could watch his cum leak out of you. He encouraged you to push as much out as you could. He liked seeing your pussy clench over and over as you tried to work him out of you.

You felt light-headed and free. Like you were soaring through a field of clouds. When nothing else leaked out, Choso stood up and went to the bathroom.

He came back into the room and gently wiped your skin down with a cool cloth. You moaned for the hit of relief you got from that small act.

He wiped between your legs, taking time to thoroughly clean you up. He rubbed the rough cloth against your pussy, giving you an extra sensory that made you bite the sheets. A thread of drool connected you to the bed.

"You did so well baby. I think we can do one more," he moaned.

"I can't, baby. Ouuee, baby don't make me."

He increased pressure of the cloth against your clit, rubbing circles and started a fire low in your belly. Your clit throbbed under his careful ministrations.

"I can't make you do something you already want to do. You want to give me one more," he said. It wasn't a question. He was telling you. Was telling you that he knew your body better than you did.

Your knees jerked as that realization hit you like a truck. And fuck if he wasn't right.

Delicious pain twisted your lower belly, desire pooling in between your thighs. You were on fire. So fucking hot that your lips burned.

"Cum for me, baby. Be good for me," he said.

On command, your orgasm ripped out of you. You cried and chanted his name.

"That's right, tell me who owns this pussy. Who owns this good pussy?" He asked.

You struggled to tell him that he does. That you were his good girl and he owned you body and soul. You couldn't communicate any of that. 100% of your focus was to survive your climax and breathe. Two very important things.

Choso wiped away your lingering essence. He retreated to the bathroom before joining you back in bed.

Without words, you seamlessly matched your heartbeat with his. You grew drowsy, yawning every few moments. Your leg twitched once as you drifted off into blissful, fucked out, sleep.

The end!

Sorry for any mistakes, I typed this on my phone.

The Secret Choso Files

[megantheestallion-ismypresident]

"Drunk n Nasty"

Duke Dennis x Black!fem reader

Summary: You got drunk at a party, and your boyfriend brings you home, but you couldn't keep his hands off him so you and your boyfriend get.... nasty.

Duke carried Y/n bridal style to get inside the house, Y/n was so drunk she couldn't even walk straight in her heels, they were at a party that her and her boyfriend were invited to. Y/N was having fun dancing with her boyfriend, but she had one drink, which led her to another after another.

"Baby, I'm tired. Are we home?" Y/n said lazily.

"Yeah, we home baby, let me get you to bed." Duke said as he carried Y/n to their room.

"I'm boutta go get you some water, to sober you up." Duke peck Y/n on the lips.

Duke leaves the room going to get a glass of water for Y/n. Y/n was drunk but horny as well. But she only was drunk and acting out because Duke stopped having sex with her, since he was busy with streaming, and Y/n didn't want him to stop doing what he loves, so she she didn't say anything.

Y/n gets out of her silky black dress, leaving her in her bra and underwear.

"I got you some water." Duke said as he brought a glass of water, but he was awestruck looking at Y/n's body.

"Damn." Duke thought to himself.

"Thanks, baby." Y/n said as she took the glass of water from his hand,drinking it seductively, looking at Duke with her doe eyes.

Y/n places the glass of water on the nightstand, coming closer to Duke, wrapping her hands around his neck.

"I want you to fuck me right now, bae." Y/n whispers in Duke ears as she takes of his shirt leaving him shirtless as Y/n caresses his chest looking at his tattos

" I was thinking bout you at the party, I was so wet for you, I was thinking about you deep insi-" Y/n was cut off ass Duke passionately kisses Y/n making her sit down on the bed.

"Lay down on the bed, baby." Duke said demandingly.

Y/n lays on the bed her legs wide open, Duke slowly takes off Y/n's underwear. Duke slowly comes closer in between Y/n's thighs, kissing and licking her thighs to her core, making Y/n moan.

"I know how badly you love this pussy, baby." Y/n smirks.

" Oh, you know baby." Duke kisses Y/n clit as he eats Y/n out, Y/n moans as Duke eats her out like a starved man, Y/n hasn't been eaten out in so long she forgot how good it was.

"Don't stop, baby, I love you." Y/n says as Duke was eating her out, she was playing with her tits.

"Imm bouttta cum baby." Y/n said as she feels herself about to cum.

" Cum for me, baby." Duke said.

Y/n cums as she lets out the most loud pornagraphic moan, which turn on Duke even more.

" I wanna be on top, baby." Y/n says as grinding her ass on Duke teasingly.

"Anything for you." Duke said, looking down at Y/n's ass slapping it, making Y/n smile as she looked back at him.

Duke unbuckle his pants, leaving him completely naked, making Y/n turned on. Duke makes it in the bed with Y/n as Y/n gets on top of Duke. Duke inserts himself inside of Y/n, making her moan.

" Duke, baby, you're so big. I can't take it." Y/n says as she rides duke, it was very painful but so pleasurable she couldn't stop.

"Cmon, I know you can take it. You've been begging for this." Duke says teasingly at Y/n. Y/n could never get mad at Duke he was too fine.

All you heard was skin slapping, Y/n was now bouncing on duke's dick, as she moans in pleasure, Duke groans as he stares at Y/n's tits, Y/n's hair was getting in her face, Duke moves the hair out of her face but she takes his fingers and sucks them seductively as she moans.

Duke cums as he stares at Y/n licking and sucking his fingers making him cum quick.

"Looks like you cum first, baby. What you couldn't take me?" Y/n says teasingly at Duke.

" Shut yo fine ass up." Duke said to Y/n kissing her as Y/n smiles to the kiss.

"I love you, bae. I'm sorry I haven't paid much attention or given you the needs you want." Duke said seriously, looking at Y/n.

"It's okay,baby. I don't want you to feel bad about yourself, ion like seeing you upset." Y/n pecks duke's lips as she got down from being on top of him, hugging him.

"You wanna do a round two in the shower?" Duke says, smiling down at Y/n.

" You are such a horny ass nigga." Y/n softly laughs, looking at duke with so much love in her eyes.

" But that offer sounds like something I tempt on doing." Y/n says seductively, getting out of bed walking to the bathroom.

" You coming?" Y/n says, looking back at Duken

"Oh, I'm coming." Duke said as he quickly came over to Y/n, as Y/n laughs at Duke's eagerness.

[lustspren]

Red Hot Sloppy Christmas ft Karina.

length: 4.7k words✦

Karina & Male Reader.

genres:  elf karina, oily sex, titjob, blowjob, master kink, breeding ✧ 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Christmas was your favorite time of the year by far, you loved the atmosphere in the streets, you loved the freezing weather, perfect for snuggling up in a blanket at home with some hot chocolate, accompanied by the colorful lights on your tree.

It was Christmas Eve, you had gone out to dinner with your work colleagues to receive Christmas together; the experience was incredible, you drank, ate like a king, and exchanged gifts with your friends. The night seemed to get no better, but a very pleasant surprise awaited you at home.

You arrived at your apartment at about 1 in the morning, the jingle of your keys echoing through the hallway as you opened the door. You took off your trench coat as soon as you entered and closed the door behind you, hanging it on the coat rack to your right; you also took off your shoes, which you placed carefully on the carpet. You felt the floor much colder than normal, even with your socks on, that surprised you, you used to leave the air conditioning on, but never during this time, and the temperatures definitely didn't get that low. Your body also quickly succumbed to the cold, causing you to shiver; you frowned and walked into the living room, turned on the light, and almost didn't have a heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" you screamed, scared, "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

Sitting on the floor under your Christmas tree was probably the most beautiful girl you had seen in a long time, her raven hair was long and silky, with bangs that made her eyes stand out; she was wearing a sexy short Christmas strapless dress, black heeled boots that reached below her knees, and a choker of the same color with a small bow tie and a tiny jingle bell. And her ears… were they… pointy? Like an…?

"Oh, you finally arrived master!" she said with a smile from ear to ear, to get up and wipe her behind with her hands.

"M-Master?" you said nervously, without moving an inch of your body, "No, no, wait, answer my question, who the hell are you?"

"An elf, of course," she replied innocently, taking a few steps towards you with her hands behind her back, "and your Christmas present, for being such a good man all year."

"No no no no, this is ridiculous," you shook your head, "tell me the truth, and tell me how the hell did you get in here?"

"I'm telling you the truth, master," she moved even closer to you, now she was only two steps away, but you took a step back, still keeping your distance, "I already told you, I'm an elf, and I went sent here just to serve you, how I got in, or rather, how I appeared here, is not relevant."

"How do I know you're really an elf and not some crazy person trying to kill me?" you refused to believe any of it, your Christmas spirit was strong, but not that strong.

"Don't you think my little ears are enough evidence?" she turned her head slightly to the side, showing you her pretty pointy ears.

"They could be prosthetics," you replied skeptically.

She put her hands to her ears, pulling them several times with her fingers to show you that they were real.

"Very well, they are not."

"And in case you need another proof..." she snapped her fingers, making a small wooden horse appear between the two of you, your eyes widened, and then she snapped her fingers again, causing the horse to vanish into a cloud of snowflakes, which swirled around you and then disappeared.

"My god, you really are… real," you muttered, looking her up and down. Among all the amazement you had not stopped to detail her attributes, her big tits looked incredible, contained by the top of her dress, which was making a great effort not to fall off, and her legs were long and creamy, she really was beautiful in every way possible, you were quickly enraptured.

"Yes! Very real, master," she smiled excitedly, taking a long step forward to stand in front of you.

"So... you're here to serve me, you say," you tried to meet her eyes, which by the way were sapphire blue, but your gaze was distracted by the deep cleavage that herself had highlighted by clasping her arms in front of her, and of course, her bare shoulders and incredibly attractive clavicle weren't far behind, "in what way?"

"Well… that's up to you," she closed the distance between the two of you by wrapping her arms around your neck, which made you feel her boobs against your chest. You froze on the spot, and never so literally, because her arms felt as cold as ice, but that touch was enough to light your fireplace.

"First of all, do you have a name?" you asked, still not touching her.

"Well, you can call me Karina, master," she just looked into your eyes, which increasingly conveyed less innocent intentions.

"Very good Karina..." you raised your hands behind her, feeling her smooth back and then her shoulders with your fingertips, "If you were sent to serve me, I think you know very well everything I want right now, don't you?"

"Oh, of course I do, master," Karina let go of your neck and carefully lowered herself to her knees, “something like this, maybe?” she was teasing you, with a mischievous little smirk on her face.

"Yeah, just that, go ahead, cutie," you nodded toward the growing bulge in your pants.

"As you command, master," Karina completely transformed when she said that, her mischievous smile disappeared, but her eyes were still those of a woman who only wanted to please you. Her face turned leering, her mouth slightly open as she brought her hand straight to your cock through your pants; she stroked it slowly, with firm squeezes from time to time; it wasn't until the bulge was rock hard that she buried her face in it, giving little kisses that made you bite your lip.

She seemed to have received special training exclusively for this, her touch was perfect, delicate, firm and sexy, just like her kisses. Her strokes on your cock continued for a few long seconds, and she didn't stop until she saw a small stain on your pants, that led her to take off your pants, she just had to undo the button, zip it down, and pull your pants and your boxer down to your ankles, freeing your throbbing cock, who automatically was exposed to the cold air, that made you shiver.

"Oh, is it really cold master? It's my fault, sorry," Karina wrapped her icy fingers around your shaft carefully, giving it a few slow strokes, you winced at how cold it felt, "but don't worry, there are places on my body that could be quite warm to you."

Saying this she took you directly to her mouth, she took half of your cock, giving it the warmth she had promised you, you gasped, as she began to bob her head slowly and torturously. Your cock got slippery almost immediately, she knew very well what she was doing, she used her tongue in the perfect way at the perfect moments, and the movements of her head were exquisitely complemented by her silky lips moving all over your meat. You moaned several times because of how good the sensual blowjob she was giving you felt, Karina noticed it and she also moaned a couple times on your shaft, as if she was turned on by the mere fact of pleasing you. 

Two of her fingers wrapped around the base of your cock, which gave her free rein to take more than half of your shaft into her mouth, now taking you completely with each pump of her head. Your face twisted in pleasure as you let out a long moan, Karina's face also distorted as she became more and more aroused, causing her to look at you with eyes shining with lust. She didn't move faster at any time, she did everything nice and slow, that only confirmed to you that the slutty elf knew everything you liked. Her drool began to spill drop by drop from each side of her mouth, you felt like you were going to cum soon, so you only gave her a few more seconds until you finally stopped her.

"Stop, Karina," you affectionately separated her from your cock, she looked at you somewhat disconcerted, her breathing agitated and her cheeks flushed.

"Did something happen, teacher?" she asked innocently.

"Get naked, right now, but keep the boots, and the necklace," you ordered, taking a step back.

She raised her hand to snap her fingers and make her clothes disappear, but you stopped her immediately.

"No, do it yourself, no magic, be a good elf," you ordered, releasing her wrist.

"Yes, master," she nodded with a small smile, then stood up.

Her hands went to the top edge of her dress and she began to slowly lower it, revealing her cleavage inch by inch until she finally freed her milky pair of tits. You were mesmerized by how gorgeous and delicious they looked, if you were to compare them to fruits, they would definitely be a pair of perfectly round and firm melons. But it didn't end there, she kept lowering her dress all over her body until she reached her ankles, then she simply left the dress on the ground and took two steps forward to get out of it. You didn't realize it at the time, but your jaw dropped a little at how impressed you were by her body, which was hot as fuck, deliciously toned in every possible place, but not really muscled.

"Do you like my body, master? I worked it with a lot of love just for you," Karina asked with her hands behind her back.

"I love it, you really are… beautiful," you said, slightly flushed with lust, that's how men were rewarded for being good during the year, huh? "But you're forgetting something," you glanced at her pine green panties, which you could easily tell how soaked they were.

Karina complied with the order, also taking off her panties and throwing them next to the dress. Now you had an outrageously beautiful elf from the north pole naked in front of you, and you were going to fuck her, surreal.

"Is that better, master?" you wanted to see her massage her tits, which she did within seconds of you thinking about it, which didn't even surprise you due to her qualities. She did it very slowly, bringing them together whenever she could.

"Much better honey, now come here," you took off the rest of your clothes in a matter of seconds, ignoring the low temperatures as it was contrasted by how hot your body was. You took her waist with both hands and pressed her against your body, this time her tits flattened against your chest, and your cock flat against her creamy tummy. She wrapped her arms around your neck, and that was your green light to finally kiss her.

You didn't even have 10 seconds in the kiss when you knew it was being the best kiss of your entire life, her lips tasted delicious, and her lips felt like two cotton balls because of how soft they were. Your tongue invaded her mouth, and she received it between small moans and gasps; your hands ran through her soft body, caressing her back, her lower waist, her hips and making a small stop on her ass to give each buttock a strong squeeze. Karina tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, making little caresses with that hand and giving slow strokes to your hard cock with the other one.

The fact that she knew everything you thought was a great advantage, because you could take advantage of it, you wanted her to climb onto your torso and wrap your legs around you, and she did so, with a little jump so that you only had to hold her. You continued kissing her, this time feeling how the tip of your cock brushed from time to time against her wet slit.

You took her to your room, whose door you opened awkwardly because your eyes were more closed than open, but when you were inside the first thing you did was sit with her on the edge of the bed, now she was on your lap, and her pussy was pressing directly against your throbbing cock. Karina attached to you even stronger, as she slightly moved her hips to rub against you, that's when a magnificent idea came to you.

"Hey, you know what I want right now… don't you?" you said pulling away from the kiss, looking into her eyes, which seemed to light up like two pretty streetlights. Her answer was obvious, and you didn't need to tell her, but you wanted to make sure.

"Sure, master, and I must say I love it," she replied with a giggle, then snapped her fingers and made a bottle of massage oil appear in her hand.

"My god, you really are amazing," that was the last thing you said before Karina opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the oil on your cock and on her tits so that it also spread on your chest, soon the rubbing between the two intimacies it became much easier and stickier, which made it feel even better.

"Well... I told you, master," she murmured against your lips, in a raspy, lecherous tone, "I was very well trained for this… to please you."

You kissed her again, but this time the kiss lasted much less, you couldn't concentrate when her two soft, oiled tits rubbed against you.

Once again, Karina read your mind and got off your lap to kneel between your legs. She then took both of her tits with her hands and began to massage them.

"You want my tits around your dick, don't you master?" she asked as she looked into your eyes.

"I don't need to answer that, do I?" you brought your hand to her cheek and caressed it with your thumb.

"No, of course not," she smiled, taking the bottle of oil and pouring it once more, this time in larger amounts on her breasts, your thighs, your abdomen and your cock, at the same time that she was in charge of spreading it herself.

Without much else to do Karina began to concentrate on the main task, she put the jar on the floor, and took your cock to position it between her two mounds, she joined one first, and then the other, until your shaft was part of a slippery and shiny meat sandwich. You didn't bother to hold back the audible moan that escaped your lips as her tits warmed you so well.

She wasted no time in moving up and down, your cock appearing and disappearing with each stroke. You leaned back slightly, resting your hands on the mattress and crumpling the sheets; your senses went completely crazy while Karina gave you the best titjob you could ever have, you moaned, and you put your hand on the elf's neck out of pure instinct, but that only prompted her to lower her neck a little and pull out her tongue, so when her tits came down, her tongue would meet your tip.

"Oh my fucking god," you gasped, closing your eyes for a second, your mouth parted. Karina began to move faster and faster, until she was at the perfect speed that you enjoyed the most. Your pre-cum of hers was spilling every second that passed, but the elf picked it up almost immediately with her soft tongue, from which she also dripped saliva onto her tits.

"Am I doing well, master? Do you like it?" she asked, biting her lip, continuing to move her tits up and down. Her voice forced you to open your eyes and meet her gaze, and you didn't know if you were hallucinating, but you could swear that her blue eyes sparkled for a second.

"Fuck, I love it, just keep going please..." you managed to reply between gasping breaths.

"You're about to cum, aren't you? Master wants to cum on my pretty tits, doesn't he?" After saying that, Karina lowered her neck again, this time sucking the tip of your cock with each pumping of her tits.

You didn't have long to cum, but as soon as she said those words you couldn't contain yourself, and as a result, you exploded. Long and voluminous streams of cum shot out of your cock, one of them inside her mouth, but the rest went straight to her tits, since Karina had taken your cock and aimed it at them while she jerked you very slowly, draining each drop of your thick liquid. You moaned and moaned with your eyes closed, and it wasn't until a few long seconds later that your orgasm stopped.

It took you a moment to open your eyes, but when you did, you admired the beautiful painting you had done on her tits, not only shiny from the oil, but now also from your cum.

Karina's face was flushed, and her breathing was also agitated, but for different reasons, she was just as horny as you or more. She scooped up all the cum she could with her hands and then licked herself up, swallowing all of your scent.

"Fuck come here, I want to eat those tits," you growled, grabbing her shoulders to get her to her feet and onto your lap again. You buried your face in her tits immediately, one nipple to your mouth, and then the other, licking and sucking on both like you were a baby who hasn't nursed in weeks. Karina put her hands on your neck and pressed your face even more against her mounds; she was enjoying it, because again she was moving her hips against your cock, making it rub against her pussy between small desperate moans.

"Ah... do you like them that much, master?" she gasped, as you continued to feast on her perfect pair of tits.

"I love them," you replied, giving each mound a firm squeeze, "but right now, I want to make you cum."

Karina climbed off your lap and onto the bed, then lay on her back with her legs open for you, stroking her inner thighs. She looked at you with a mischievous smile, and then she took off her boots, which she had been wearing all this time.

"Oh, you want to do things that messy, don't you, master?" she asked, you cursed inwardly, the fact that she could read your mind was also a scary thing.

"Yeah honey, so do your thing," you said after picking up the bottle of oil from the floor and going to kneel next to her body. Karina snapped her fingers, and a waterproof plastic blanket appeared on the bed, "good girl."

You got to work, pouring oil and spreading it all over her body in a kind of spontaneous massage, which you specifically concentrated on her legs and crotch, where you rubbed your hands continuously without touching her pussy completely. Then you went to her tits one more time, just to give them a few strokes and squeezes; you lay down next to Karina and crashed your lips against hers in a more torrid and passionate kiss, to make her separate her legs as much as possible and start rubbing her slit with your fingers.

Karina pulled you by the neck and made you stick your torso against her side, so she could feel your body rubbing against hers as you quickly stimulated her clit. She moaned against your lips, clinging to your neck with one hand and your shoulder with the other; she slightly squirmed on the slippery blanket, but she always kept her legs wide open in a very obedient manner, so you decided to up the ante, sticking two fingers inside her tight pussy.

"Master! Oh fuck!" she moaned aloud, pulling away from the kiss. She looked at you with her blue eyes, and you just took in admiring her gorgeous face as she moaned from the two fingers pumping in and out of her, hard enough to make the oil splatter from the crash of your palm against her pube.

You kept pumping your fingers for a long time without lowering the intensity for a single second, you licked her tits, sucked on her nipples, kissed her neck, and bit her jawline several times, all to be able to see that beautiful girl gone crazy with pleasure. Your labors paid off, because after a few seconds she caught your hand between her thighs, which clenched violently while the pretty elf had her first orgasm of the night. The bedroom was filled with her tender moans, and her fingers clung to your hair. Your hand remained trapped between her soft thighs until Karina's body relaxed, that's when her legs fell outstretched.

"Master... I know you want to you want to fuck me, please fuck me," she begged between small sighs.

"You know I do, but I want you up first," you gave her little kisses on the cheek and one last peck on her lips before laying down next to her. Karina got up with some difficulty and knelt down next to you, and just like you did a few minutes ago, she grabbed the bottle of oil and began to put it all over your body. She focused especially on your cock, which she stroked with her palm a few times before taking it between her fingers and beginning to rub it up and down. Her handjob made you hard in just an instant, that gave her the green light to straddle your abdomen.

There you two were, both bodies slippery and shiny, and Karina looking fucking gorgeous on top of you. She flopped forward, her face on top of yours, and her tits flattened against your chest; she reached back with one of her hands, taking your cock in one hand to rub the tip of it against her slit several times, seconds later, she lined it up with her pussy and completely impaled on your flesh with just one thrust.

You both moaned at the same time, you from feeling the overwhelming warmth of her pussy walls around your cock and her from having a big chunk of meat shoved deep inside. Karina clung to your shoulders as best as she could because of how slippery your skin and hers were, and began to move her hips at a considerable pace on your cock, which was moving in and out of her pussy with a delicious and pleasurable ease. Your lips and hers met once more, with your tongues as the main protagonists this time; Karina's hands went from your shoulders to your neck, holding it gently while she moved her hips expertly; her tits were continually rubbing against your chest thanks to her movements, back and forth all the time. You had never had sex like that, but you could be sure that it was the best sexual experience of your life, the contact felt much more intimate and passionate, and the shiny touch on your skin added a sexier touch to your bodies.

"Stop, honey, you know what to do," you gasped as you pulled away from the kiss. Karina didn't say anything, she just got off of you and lay on her back with her legs open, you got up and positioned yourself between them, to put your cock back into her slippery pussy.

You leaned forward, and without thinking twice you began to fuck Karina as she deserved, making her tits bounce with each thrust you gave. You held her legs back, reaching even deeper into her wet pussy; she moaned louder, and your mind went into a trance-like state where you could only go higher and higher.

"Just like that master! Fuck me hard! Use me like the pretty toy that I am!" she begged between beautiful whimpers, while you gave her exactly what she asked for, strong and deep thrusts that almost didn’t pin her against her mattress. 

The bed soon began to shake together because of the intense fucking you were giving her, Karina's tits were moving uncontrollably, and you decided to change position to be able to do something about it; you turned her body on her side from the hips down, and on her back from the hips up, that way you could grab her tits freely while you continued pouding her pussy.

"I'm going to cum inside you, are you okay with that, Karina?" in this new position your left hand was clinging to her waist, pressing her hard with your fingers, while the other hand was on her tits, either massaging them or pinching her nipples.

"You can cum anywhere on my body you want, master!" Karina's eyes were crystallized, about to cry because of how good she felt.

You stopped once more, this time to lie down next to her but without leaving her pussy, her back was now pressed against your chest, and your face was right next to hers; you wrapped one arm under her neck and the other between her tits, enveloping her in a warm, sticky embrace as you thrust frantically inside her. Karina turned her head to give you just a little kiss, because all she wanted was to look into your eyes while she cupped the side of your face with her hand.

"Fill me with your seed master, please... please!" she begged between moans and shrieks.

You didn't need her to tell you again. You went back to the trance of a few minutes ago, your right hand grabbed one of her tits and squeezed it hard, making it shake violently as a result of your thrusts. You don't know how much time passed, it could have been seconds or minutes, but your orgasm hit you like a category 5 hurricane. You moaned into Karina's ear, shooting your entire load into her silky cunt, but that only made the elf cum for the second time, now you two were prisoners of the spasms that mercilessly shook your bodies. Your thrusts became slow, not stopping until every little drop of your cum was perfectly planted inside her. She kept on overcoming her orgasm, so her pussy didn't let you go for a few seconds.

Silence took over the bedroom for a long time, in which you and Karina were perfectly coupled chest to back. You were the first to speak.

"You… you can't stay, right?" you asked innocently in a mutter.

Karina snapped her fingers, making the plastic blanket disappear under you, and not only that, making your bodies dry again. You couldn't do anything but thank her mentally, now you could feel the creamy softness of her skin. She turned around, and hugged you with one arm and one leg.

"I'm sorry but... no, I can't," she said with a sad smile, "when the sun starts to rise, I'll have to go home."

"Does that mean you can at least sleep over with me?" you took her chin with your fingers, giving her a little kiss.

"Yeah, sure master," she smiled, then kissed you back, "but hey, if you're still a good boy next year, I'll be back."

"Believe me, I'll be the best of boys every year to see you again," her blue eyes gave a nice sparkle again, that made you smile.

"Maybe I'll take you to my home for a visit, who knows?" she shrugged.

"To see the little sapling I just planted inside you already born?" you joked. Dumb.

"Yes, that's right," she said, more convinced than you'd like. You saw her frowning, and she simply closed her eyes, sinking her face on your neck, "rest well, master... until next year."

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SPREN NOTES:

Well, now, this is the last smut of the year, finally! It is the Christmas gift that I leave you, since I will be a little inactive during these days for obvious reasons. I hope you enjoy it!

Don’t forget to support me on ko-fi if you want! https://ko-fi.com/lustspren.