#if the second one works for you good but like..

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x medic reader, where you might as well be the sun to them)

The phrase started as a whisper.

It drifted through the base like smoke curling around corners, impossible to pin down but impossible to ignore.

“Here comes the sun.”

It bounced off walls, passing lips in hushed tones, slipping into conversations as a half-joke, half-omen. At first, the 141 didn’t pay it much attention. Soldiers had their quirks, their superstitions- rituals to keep them sane when missions dragged too long and they smelled more blood than earth. But this one stuck.

Price furrowed his brow the first time he heard it. Ghost only tilted his head slightly, filing it away. Gaz grimaced and muttered something about troops getting weird ideas. Soap, though- he took notice.

He’d caught it more than once before a mission, said like a prayer or maybe a warning. He’d asked around, but answers were vague. “You’ll know when you see it.” That’s all they’d tell him. It irritated him to no end.

Then the mission happened.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction. A quick in-and-out, but things went sideways fast. Soap had been covering the team’s six when the ambush hit. A sharp crack split the air, followed by the searing pain in his side. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking into the dirt, a familiar, burning ache travelling through his body.

“Soap’s hit!” Gaz’s voice barked through comms, panic threading through the static.

“Pull him out!” Price ordered.

But the line fizzled and died. Soap’s world narrowed- gunfire, shouts, and the taste of copper in his mouth. He couldn’t hear the others anymore. The ground felt colder than it should have. He pressed his hand against the wound, but it was bad. Really bad.

This is it, he thought. This is where I die.

The edges of his vision blurred. He barely noticed the figure sprinting toward him until a flash of bright red and orange, a blazing fire, pierced through the smoke and haze.

Like the sun.

You hit the ground beside him, all motion and precision, your gear unlike anything he’d ever seen. Bright red and orange covered your tactical vest and helmet- colors that didn’t belong in a war zone. Colors that should’ve made you a target, a dead woman walking.

But instead, you looked like salvation.

“Stay with me, Sargeant.” You said, voice sharp and steady. You weren’t panicked- not even a little. It was comforting.

Soap stared, wide-eyed, as your hands worked quickly to stop the bleeding. He should’ve been paying attention to the pain, to the gunfire, to anything else- but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What the hell are ya wearing?” he rasped, because that was apparently the only thought his brain could form.

You didn’t look up. “Bright colors make it easier to spot me. Medics don’t have the luxury of hiding- we have to be seen when it counts.”

“It’s bloody ridiculous.” he muttered- and then sucked in a sharp breath as you tightened the bandage.

“Maybe,” you said, finally glancing at him. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”

Soap’s heart stumbled. Your eyes were sharp, focused- but there was something else there too, something warm. Something steady.

Here comes the sun.

It hit him all at once. That’s what the others meant. It wasn’t just the colors. It was you. The way you moved, the way your voice cut through the noise, the way you didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stay awake, Sargeant.” You ordered, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a single smart remark.

Much later, he woke up in the med tent, groggy but alive, and immediately found himself staring at you again.

You were restocking supplies nearby, your bright gear an almost comical contrast to the sterile white walls. The moment you noticed him looking, you crossed the room.

“You’re awake,” you said, checking his vitals. Your voice was softer now, calm and patient. He felt like he could melt. “Good.”

“You’re real.” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “What?”

“Thought I was hallucinating.” He gestured vaguely at your vest, a grin cracking on his lips. “I mean, look at ya.” Lovely. The sun has never looked better.

Your lips twitched, like you were holding back a smile. “I get that a lot.”

Before he could come up with anything else to say- anything remotely smooth- the tent flap opened.

Price, Ghost, and Gaz stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on you. And for once, Soap wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Gaz blinked. “You’re… bright.”

“Easy to spot.” You said, beaming.

Ghost stared at you for a few seconds longer, peering, before he spoke. “…You’re the sun.”

Price studied you for a long moment as well, then nodded like something clicked into place with a sigh. “Makes sense.”

You, on the other hand, looked confused and unsure, tilting your head once more in the way kittens do.

Soap couldn’t stop staring. He barely even heard the others talking, answering your confusion. All he could think about was how you’d shown up when he thought he was done for- and how you’d looked like a fiery star in the vast expanse of a cold, dark sky.

You glanced at him again, eyes sharp and warm all at once, lips quirking in a delicate smile while Gaz talked with you.

Here comes the sun, he thought.

(… would it be possible to cradle the sun, such warmth, in his hands?)

[jupiterpilgrim]

Collision

Christmas Special🎄

Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 16K

The driveway crunches under your tires, the snow thick and fresh, the icy wind biting at your face the second you step out of the car. It smells like home—pine trees and the faint whiff of wood smoke from the chimney. But none of it feels comforting. The weight in your stomach isn’t from your bag slung over your shoulder; it’s dread.

Christmas is supposed to be easy, right? Some lights, shitty jokes from your dad, a pile of gifts no one really needs. But this year? No, this year is a fucking curveball. Your dad remarried. Out of nowhere. Surprise! He’s got a wife, and she’s got a daughter. You haven’t even met them yet. They could be anyone. Strangers, stuck in your house, calling it theirs. What if they don’t like you? 

Worse—what if they do?

The front door swings open before you even reach it, and there’s your dad, grinning like he’s already three spiked eggnogs deep. “Hey, kiddo!” he booms, pulling you into a bear hug that smells like aftershave and nostalgia. You pat his back awkwardly, your fingers cold and stiff.

Inside, the house is warm, almost stifling, and decked out like Christmas threw up everywhere—tinsel, garlands, the works. You catch a glimpse of the tree in the living room, its blinking lights like a sugar rush for your eyes. You put your bag on the floor for a moment.

That's when you see one of them.  

Your stepmother’s standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, her smile wide but a little hesitant. She’s tall, polished, the kind of woman who looks like she’s never eaten a carb without guilt. She steps forward, offers a hand. “Good evening, sweetheart. So nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is smooth, polite. You shake her hand, mumbling your name and something about being pleased to meet her as well.

But your eyes slide past her, drawn like a goddamn magnet, and there she is.

Yujin. 

Yes, her.

It’s like getting punched in the gut. She leans against the doorway, arms crossed, lips curled in that same fucking smirk you’ve had nightmares about. Her black hair falls over one shoulder, her skin flawless, her legs impossibly long in ripped jeans that should be illegal. She hasn’t changed, except maybe she’s hotter now, and isn’t that just the ultimate middle finger from the universe?

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says, her voice low and syrupy, and it knocks the air out of you. Her smile widens as your brain short-circuits. “So nice to finally meet my stepbrother.”

You can’t even answer. 

Your throat’s dry, your palms clammy. All the memories come rushing back—her cornering you by your locker, stealing your homework, making you trip in front of half the school. She was your personal tormentor, a one-girl wrecking crew of humiliation. 

And now? 

Now she’s in your house.

You force your legs to move, stepping forward to shake her hand, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls you into a hug. A hug. Her body presses against yours, warm and soft and so fucking wrong, and then she leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“God, you’re still such a little bitch,” she whispers, her voice so quiet only you can hear. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Your heart’s slamming in your chest, your hands shaking as you pull away, trying to act normal. But she’s watching you with that sly grin, her eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your dad says, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Why don’t you kids catch up?”

Yujin winks at you. “Yeah, let’s catch up,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly.

You nod, because what else can you do? Christmas Eve has already become your funeral. The nightmare’s just started, and there’s no waking up from this one. 

“Err, sure, I'll just keep my stuff in my room.” 

I'll help you!" exclaims Yujin, the altruist.

“You don’t have to—” you start, your voice cracking as Yujin plucks your bag off the floor like it weighs nothing. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts you off, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “What kind of stepsister would I be if I didn’t help my adorable little stepbrother settle in?”

Her tone drips with mock sweetness, and you glance toward your dad, silently pleading for rescue, but he’s too busy smiling like a proud idiot. Your stepmother nudges him with her elbow, murmuring something about how nice it is to see the two of you bonding. 

You want to scream.

“I can handle it,” you try again, grabbing for the bag, but Yujin just tilts it out of reach and turns toward the stairs.

“Don’t be rude,” she says over her shoulder, her smirk still firmly in place. “Lead the way, champ.”

You have no choice but to trudge up the stairs, Yujin trailing behind you with your bag. You can practically feel her eyes burning into the back of your neck. Your old room’s at the end of the hall, unchanged except for the faint smell of mothballs and abandonment. You push the door open and step inside, already imagining locking it and barricading it with a chair. 

But before you can say a word, Yujin’s behind you, kicking the door shut with the heel of her boot. The sharp click of the latch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well,” she says, dropping your bag onto the bed with a heavy thud. “This is cozy. Still jerking off to the same anime posters, or did college finally level you up?”

Your cheeks go hot instantly, and you spin to face her. “Shut up,” you snap, sharper than you mean to, but it just makes her grin wider.

“There’s that fire,” she purrs, stepping closer, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I was starting to think college turned you into a total bore.”

You take a deep breath, forcing your voice to stay calm. Mature. “Did you know?” you ask, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Before today. Did you know I was—” You can’t even finish the sentence. The words feel too ridiculous. Too impossible.

“Your dad’s son?” she finishes for you, arching a perfect eyebrow. “Obviously. He showed me this cute little picture of you two together. Big grins, matching dorky Christmas sweaters. I thought I was gonna piss myself!"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “So you’ve been planning this.”

“Planning?” She tilts her head, mock-innocent. “Oh, no, stepbrother. I’ve just been… looking forward to it. Every day since I found out.” She pauses, leaning in until you can smell her shampoo, something sharp and floral that makes your head spin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face downstairs. Priceless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold your ground. “You’re acting like we’re still in high school,” you say, your voice steady, even though you’re sweating bullets. “We’re not kids anymore. Can you try acting like an adult for five minutes?”

“Hmm.” She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Nope. Too boring.”

You want to scream again, but instead you sit on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands. “What do you want, Yujin?” you mumble through your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Why am I like this?” she echoes, feigning shock. She perches on the bed next to you, so close her knee brushes yours. “I’m like this because it’s fun, dummy. Look at you. You’re so easy.”

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, clenching your jaw. “Can we just… not?”

“Not what? Talk about college? Your big, important life now?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back on her palms. “Alright, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your boring classes and your boring friends.”

“It’s not boring,” you mutter, glaring at her. “I’m doing well. Better than high school, anyway.”

“Well, that’s a low fucking bar.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, I’m kidding. Lighten up.”

You sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. What about you, then? What are you doing with your life, besides making mine hell?”

“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand lazily. “This and that. I’ve got a part-time job. Still deciding what I want to do long-term. For now, I’m focusing on hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes. “Like tormenting me?”

“Bingo.” She winks, crossing her legs and making herself way too comfortable on your bed. “But seriously, I’ve mellowed out. College must’ve made you soft.”

You bristle at the jab, but you don’t take the bait. Not this time. “Can you just—can you try to be normal? Just for Christmas?”

“Normal?” She laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re in my house now. Normal’s not on the menu.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. 

This is going to be the longest Christmas of your life.

“Remember that time I locked you in the janitor’s closet during lunch?” Yujin says, lounging across your bed like she owns it, her smile is as sharp as ever, her voice dripping with nostalgia. “You cried so loud, the janitor thought the fire alarm was going off.”

You stiffen, gripping your knees so tight your knuckles turn white. “I didn’t cry,” you mutter, though your face burns hot at the memory. You’d been pounding on the door, desperate to get out, and yeah, maybe your voice cracked a little, but crying…? No way.

“Oh, you definitely cried,” she shoots back, her grin widening. “Tears streaming down your nerdy little face, begging for someone to let you out. It was adorable.”

“It was traumatic,” you snap, glaring at her. “I missed half my math test because of you.”

“Half your math test?” She gasps, mocking a look of horror. “God forbid! How did you survive without your precious GPA?”

“Can you not?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you think this is funny? You made my life a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” She laughs, the sound light and cruel. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. You’re acting like I burned your house down or something.”

“It felt like it,” you grumble under your breath.

She smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You know, I was doing you a favor. Toughening you up. Making sure you didn’t grow up to be a total pushover.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that. Really shaped me into a beacon of confidence.”

She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“God, you are a sociopath,” you mutter, turning away to stare at the wall. You feel her gaze burning into the back of your head, like she’s trying to decide whether to poke the bear or let it simmer.

“So,” she says after a beat, her tone turning mock casual, “what about that time I replaced all your locker stuff with tampons? Classic, right?”

You whip around, your face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Classic? That was humiliating. Everyone laughed at me for weeks.”

“Months,” she corrects with a smirk. “Come on, though, you’ve got to admit it was creative.”

“Creative?” You bark out a laugh, bitter and sad. “You literally ruined my high school experience.”

“And yet here you are,” she says, spreading her arms as if presenting you. “Still alive. Still kicking. Still, uh… well, you.”

You glare at her, trying to ignore the smug look on her face. “How do you even live with yourself?”

“Easily,” she says with a shrug. “I’m amazing.”

Before you can retort, your dad’s voice booms from downstairs, calling your name. “Dinner’s ready! You two coming down?”

Yujin hops off the bed, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t just spend the last ten minutes reliving your personal hell. “Better not keep the old man waiting,” she says, sauntering toward the door. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. “Try not to trip on the way down, nerd.”

You grit your teeth, swallowing the retort that’s bubbling up. You can feel your temper boiling under the surface, but you clamp down on it. She’s not worth it. Not here, not now. 

Following her downstairs, you try to shake off the memories, but they cling to you like cobwebs. Her laugh echoes in your ears, and for a moment, you wonder if this Christmas can get any worse. 

Something tells you it can.

—

The dining room is warm, the table set with enough food to feed a small army: a roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce—the works. The smell alone would normally make your stomach rumble, but you can’t think about eating right now. You’re too busy trying to disappear into your chair while Yujin holds court.

She’s sitting directly across from you, a glass of wine in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. Your dad and stepmother are at either end of the table, smiling like this is a damn Coca-Cola commercial. They keep stealing glances between you and Yujin, clearly delighted that their kids are finally “bonding.”

“So,” your dad starts, cutting into his turkey, “how are you two getting along so far? Hitting it off?”

Yujin’s grin stretches wider as she sets her glass down, her fingers trailing along the rim. “Oh, we’re getting along great,” she says, her voice sugary sweet, but her eyes are locked on you, daring you to contradict her. “It’s like no time has passed at all.”

“That’s wonderful,” your stepmother gushes, clasping her hands together, apparently without noticing the subtext of her daughter's speech. “I was hoping you two would click. It’s so important, you know? Especially with blended families.”

Your dad nods enthusiastically, raising his glass. “To new beginnings!” 

You mumble something noncommittal, raising your water glass just to avoid looking rude, but Yujin doesn’t miss a beat.

“New beginnings,” she echoes, winking at you over the rim of her wine glass. “Though, really, it’s more like picking up where we left off.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, and your stomach churns. You glance at your dad, praying he doesn’t take the bait, but of course, he does.

“Oh?” he says, perking up. “Did you two know each other before?”

Yujin leans back in her chair, crossing her legs, her expression pure amusement. “Oh, sure. We were… friends in high school.” She emphasizes the word “friends” in a way that makes you want to crawl under the table and die.

Your dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s incredible! What are the odds?”

“It’s like fate,” Yujin says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “We were absolutely inseparable. Weren’t we, little brother?”

You choke on your mashed potatoes, coughing violently. Your stepmother hands you a napkin, her face full of concern, but Yujin just watches, her smile never faltering. 

“You okay, champ?” she asks, tilting her head like she’s genuinely worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you croak, your voice raw. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“Well, don’t die on us,” your dad jokes, oblivious to the tension. “So, you two were close, huh? Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Yujin answers before you can even open your mouth. “Oh, you know how it is. There are so many things we need to remember daily... And High school’s such a whirlwind. But yeah, we spent a lot of time together. In fact…” She pauses, letting the suspense build as she picks up her fork, stabbing a piece of turkey. “Some might say I had a… profound influence on him.”

You grit your teeth so hard you’re surprised your molars don’t shatter. “That’s… one way to put it,” you mutter.

“Don’t be modest,” Yujin teases, pointing her fork at you. “You were so dedicated. Always trying to impress me, always going out of your way to… help.” She says the last word with a sly smile, and you feel your face burning.

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly delighted. “Well, that’s just fantastic. See? This was meant to be.”

“It really was,” Yujin agrees, taking another sip of wine. “I mean, what are the chances? You, me, and now—” She gestures around the table dramatically. “One big, happy family.”

“Exactly,” your stepmother says, beaming. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you two getting along. It’s like a Christmas miracle!”

You force a tight-lipped smile, shoving a forkful of green beans into your mouth to avoid saying something you’ll regret. Meanwhile, Yujin’s smirk grows impossibly wider, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

“Tell us more about this,” your dad says, clearly eager to keep the conversation going, “what kind of stuff did you two do together back in high school? Any fun stories?”

Your heart sinks. Before you can come up with an excuse to dodge the question, Yujin leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, so many stories,” she says, her voice light and breezy. “Like the time we… Oh, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass him. You know how sensitive he is.”

You glare at her, your hands clenched into fists under the table. “I’m not sensitive,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

Yujin gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock surprise. “Wow, defensive much? Relax, stepbrother. We’re just reminiscing. It’s healthy.”

Your stepmother chuckles, keeping a conspiratorial and amused expression with your father. “They’re just like siblings already, aren’t they?”

“Just like siblings,” Yujin echoes, her tone syrupy and smug. She catches your eye across the table, her smirk so infuriatingly smug it makes your blood boil. “Don’t you think, bro?”

You grind your teeth, stabbing your turkey with unnecessary force. “Sure. Just like siblings.”

The meal continues, the conversation flowing easily for everyone except you. Every time you start to relax, Yujin finds a new way to dig her claws in—mentioning a “funny” story that conveniently paints you in the worst possible light, brushing her foot against yours under the table, or throwing out a sarcastic comment every time you try to speak.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re ready to fake food poisoning just to escape. But your parents? They’re over the moon. As far as they’re concerned, this is the happiest Christmas dinner ever.

—

The circus of horrors ends in a swirl of polite conversation and over-loud laughter, the kind that covers up awkward silences and unspoken tension. You pick at the crumbs of your dessert plate until you can’t justify sitting there anymore. Your dad, ever the enthusiast, claps you on the shoulder as everyone starts to disperse. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from a few too many glasses of wine.  

"Hey, kiddo," he says, steering you toward the living room while Yujin and your stepmother clean up the table. "Can we talk for a second?"  

You stiffen but nod, letting him guide you to the couch. He plops down, gesturing for you to do the same, and you oblige, your hands fidgeting in your lap.  

“Look,” he starts, his tone softening in that way parents do when they’re trying to get serious. “I just want to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s not easy, this whole blended family thing. But seeing you and Yujin getting along? It means the world to me.”  

You swallow hard, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “She’s… great.”  

“She really is,” he says. “And you, you’ve grown up so much. I know high school wasn’t easy for you, but look at you now—college, a bright future. I couldn’t be prouder.”  

Your chest tightens. How are you supposed to tell him that his perfect stepdaughter was your high school tormentor? That every smile she throws your way feels like a dagger aimed at your sanity? 

You can’t. 

It would ruin everything.  

So you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Dad.”  

He pulls you into a quick hug, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were a kid. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day—Our first Christmas morning as a new family!”  

You force another smile, mumbling something about heading to bed. And with that, this one-sidedly joyful conversation ends. 

—

Your room feels like a sanctuary as you close the door behind you, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket. You set up your laptop on the bed, scrolling through animated movies until you land on The Lion King. The opening notes of “Circle of Life” fill the room, and for the first time all evening, you start to relax.  

You’re halfway through the Mufasa's death when you hear a knock on the door. 

You freeze, your heart sinking. 

There’s only one person it could be.  

With a sigh, you pause the movie, put the laptop on the desk and shuffle to the door, pulling it open just enough to peek through. Sure enough, there’s Yujin, leaning against the doorframe in pajamas that leave very little to the imagination—short shorts that barely cover her thighs and a tank top so tight it’s almost transparent.  

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on her face and not the way her shorts cling to her hips.  

She smirks, tilting her head like she’s already won. “Relax, nerd. I just need to borrow your toothbrush.”  

You blink, sure you misheard her. “My toothbrush?”  

“Yeah.” She pushes past you into the room without waiting for an invitation, looking around like she owns the place. “I forgot mine at my mom’s place, and I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

You turn to face her, incredulous. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my toothbrush.”  

She glances at your laptop screen, her smirk widening when she sees the paused scene. “Wait—are you watching The Lion King?”  

“Yeah, so?” You fold your arms, trying to deflect.  

Her laugh is sharp, cutting. “Oh my God, you’re such a child. What’s next? Gonna snuggle up with a teddy bear and sing 'Hakuna Matata'?"  

“Classic Disney movies are comforting,” you snap, your cheeks burning. “They’re timeless. Not that you’d understand.”  

“Comforting?” She raises an eyebrow, her grin downright wicked. “You’re pathetic. Do you still sleep with a nightlight too?”  

“At least I’m not barging into people’s rooms asking to share their toothbrush,” you fire back. “That’s disgusting.”  

She shrugs, unbothered. “What’s the big deal? We’re practically family now.”  

“That doesn’t make it okay!”  

“Well, I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”  

“Use your finger,” you suggest, exasperated.  

She gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Oh, the audacity! What kind of savage do you take me for?”  

“An entitled one,” you mutter, regretting it the second it’s out of your mouth.  

Her eyes narrow, but her smirk doesn’t waver. She steps closer, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavier. “Careful, stepbrother,” she says, her voice low, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”  

You swallow hard, stepping back instinctively as she invades your space. “I—just… go ask your mom or something.”  

“Nah,” she says, taking another step forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “I like seeing you squirm too much.”  

Your back hits the edge of your desk, your laptop wobbling precariously. The paused image of Simba and Mufasa feels absurdly out of place, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Yujin as she leans in, her smirk turning predatory.  

“So,” she whispers, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Are you gonna lend me that toothbrush, or do I have to get creative?”   

You're tired of being trapped in this kind of situation and know that if you don't make a change, nothing will be different. Decided, you straighten your spine, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare her down.

Enough is enough. 

You’re not the same awkward, scared kid she pushed around in high school. “No,” you say, your voice firm. “You’re not using my toothbrush. Ever.”  

Her eyes narrow even further, her smirk faltering for the first time. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?”  

“My problem?” You laugh. “My problem is that you think it’s normal to walk into someone’s room and ask to scrape your nasty teeth with their toothbrush.”  

Her jaw drops, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Nasty?! Excuse me, but my teeth are perfectly clean!”  

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. If you count all the lying and cheating you’ve done with that mouth...”  

Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks genuinely offended. Then her expression hardens, her voice dripping with anger. “You’re such a little bitch, you know that? Sitting here in your sad little room, watching Disney movies like a five-year-old.”  

“And you’re a dumb bitch,” you snap back, your temper flaring. “You only made it out of high school because you stole my homework and cheated on every test. I bet you don't know how to solve even a first degree equation!” 

The second the word leaves your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up.  

Yujin goes very still, her smirk vanishing. Her dark eyes fix on you, cold and unblinking, and for the first time, you feel a genuine spike of fear.  

“What did you just call me?” she says, her voice dangerously low.  

You open your mouth, trying to backpedal, but nothing comes out. She steps closer, her presence suddenly towering.

“I said,” she repeats, each word deliberate, “what did you just call me?”  

“I… I—I didn’t mean—”  

She cuts you off with a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve got some balls, stepbrother. Calling a woman a bitch like that. You think you’re tough now, huh? Big college guy? Watching The Lion King and talking shit?”  

You hold up your hands, trying to de-escalate. “Yujin, come on, I didn’t mean it like—”  

“I’ll teach you,” she interrupts, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr. “I’ll teach you to never call a woman a bitch again.”  

Before you can react, she moves. It happens so fast, your brain barely processes it—her hands on your arm, a twist, a pull, and suddenly your back hits the floor with a dull thud.  

"Jesus Christ!” you yelp, gasping for air.  

She’s on you in an instant, her knees pressing into your shoulders as she straddles you. “What’s the matter, nerd?” she taunts, leaning down so her face is inches from yours. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”  

“Get off me!” you sputter, squirming beneath her, but she’s stronger than she looks.  

“Oh, no,” she says, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. “You’re not getting off that easy.”  

Her thighs shift, and before you know it, they’re wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you panic. You grab at her legs, trying to push her off, but it’s like grappling with steel.  

“Holy shit, Yujin! What the hell are you doing?”  

“Teaching you a lesson,” she says, her voice mockingly sweet. “Say it. Say you’ll never call me a bitch again.”  

“Fine, fine!” you choke out, your hands clawing at her thighs. “I won’t! Just let go!”  

But she doesn’t let go. If anything, she squeezes harder, a triumphant laugh spilling from her lips. “Oh, no. Not until you say it properly. Beg me, stepbrother. Let’s hear it.”  

“Yujin, come on!” Your voice is muffled, your vision starting to blur. “You’re insane!”  

“And you’re pathetic,” she counters, her smirk widening. “Now say it. Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch.”  

You groan, your pride warring with your desperation for oxygen. But as her thighs tighten again, cutting off what little air you have left, you know you don’t have a choice.  

“Fine!” you gasp, your voice ragged. “Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch!”  

She laughs, a rich, mocking sound that vibrates through her thighs where they clamp loosely around your neck. Her long, toned legs feel impossibly strong, even though she isn’t really applying pressure. The mere implication that she could is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

“Sorry?” she repeats, tilting her head like she’s genuinely considering your words. “Hmm, doesn’t sound very convincing. Say it again, but this time really mean it. Oh, and call me ma’am.”  

Your face flushes hot, humiliation creeping up your neck. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” you stammer, hating how meek you sound. “Please, I swear I won’t say anything like that again.”  

She smirks, her thighs shifting slightly, the soft warmth of her skin pressing against the sides of your head. “That’s better,” she purrs, “but we’re not quite done, are we? Will you lend me your toothbrush now, or do I have to keep teaching you some respect?”  

You grit your teeth, anger flaring despite your position. “I’m not lending you my toothbrush, Yujin! That’s disgusting.”  

Her expression darkens, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Wrong answer,” she says sweetly, leaning forward so her weight presses just a bit more against your throat.  

“Wait, wait!” you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at her thighs. “Fine! Take it, okay? Just let me go!”  

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She loosens her hold, but she doesn’t get up. Instead, her gaze drops, and her grin grows wider. “Oh my god,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery. “Are you seriously hard right now?”  

Your heart stops. You glance down in horror and realize that, yes, the bulge in your pants is painfully obvious.  

“It’s not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off, shifting her thighs back into position.  

“Don’t even try to deny it,” she coos, leaning in closer. “Look at you, blushing like a little schoolboy. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you like being choked by my thighs?”  

“N-no!” you stammer, though your voice falters as her thighs press just a fraction tighter, the plushness of her skin enveloping your cheeks.  

“Liar,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Come on, admit it. I can feel you squirming, and I can see that pathetic little boner of yours. Just say it—you like it, don’t you?”  

You try to shake your head, but her legs hold you in place. “I don’t—”  

“Say it,” she interrupts, her tone firm but still playful. “Or I’ll keep you here all night. Admit that you like how warm and soft my thighs are. Tell me you’re a submissive little perv.”  

Your resistance crumbles under her relentless teasing. Your face burns as you mumble, “Okay… fine. It’s kind of… nice.”  

Her laughter is bright and triumphant. “That’s what I thought. You’re a submissive little slut, aren’t you?”  

You close your eyes, wishing the floor would swallow you up, but she’s relentless. Her thighs move between your face, forcing you to look up at her.  

“So,” she drawls, “are you a virgin?”  

“No!” you blurt out immediately, your face heating up.  

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “No? Really? I don’t buy it.” Her grin widens as she watches you squirm. “Come on, don’t bullshit me. Who the hell would fuck you?”  

Your mouth opens, then closes. “I’m not lying,” you manage. “I’ve had sex before! In college.”  

Yujin bursts into laughter, loud and mocking, her head tilting back in genuine amusement. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious. You? Getting laid? Please.” She leans in closer. “What was her name, huh? Bet she doesn’t exist. Face it—no girl, not even the most desperate, would fuck a loser like you.”  

Her words hit harder than you expect, and the shame wells up in your chest. But she turns your chin with her thighs, forcing you to face her again.

“Aww,” she coos, feigning sympathy. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Well, maybe I’m feeling generous tonight. Must be the Christmas spirit or something.” She lets out a low chuckle, her thighs rubbing your neck slowly, almost like a massage. “Tell you what. Since you’re clearly a pathetic little virgin, how about I take that burden off your hands?”  

Your eyes widen, your body betraying you as your erection presses harder against your pants. She notices immediately, her smirk turning wicked. “Oh, you like that idea, huh?”  

“W-wait,” you stammer, but her voice cuts through yours.  

“Not so fast,” she says, her thighs flexing against your neck just enough to make your pulse spike. “Before I even consider it, you need to admit something to me.”  

“Admit what?” you ask nervously.  

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “That I’m beautiful.”  

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, no chance.”  

Her thighs squeeze tighter, making you gasp. “What was that?” she taunts. “You sure about that answer?”  

Your heart races as you struggle against the pressure. “Okay, okay! You’re beautiful, alright?”  

Her smile grows triumphant. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But just beautiful?”  

You hesitate, her expectant gaze burning into you. “You’re hot too,” you mutter.

She feigns surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “Hot? Oh, you’re making me blush. What else?”  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “Your thighs… they’re, uh, juicy. And thick.”  

Her laughter is rich and sultry. “Juicy and thick, huh? You like being smothered by them?”  

“Yes,” you admit, your voice small.  

She grins. “What about my smile?”  

“It’s beautiful,” you say reluctantly.  

Her grin widens. “Oh, really? Didn’t you say earlier that my teeth were nasty?”  

You groan, the heat in your face unbearable. “I lied. Your teeth are… perfect.”  

She leans back slightly, studying you with an amused glint in her eye. “You’re not just saying all this so I’ll fuck you, right?”  

“No,” you insist. “It’s all true.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost curious. “Alright then. What did you think of me back in high school?”  

You try to avoid her gaze, but she won’t let you look away. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Talk,” she demands, her thighs pressing just slightly again. “Or I’ll keep you here all night.”  

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. I had a crush on you, okay? I just… I wished you’d been nicer to me.”  

She snorts, shaking her head. “A crush? On me? That’s adorable. Why didn’t you do anything about it?”  

“Because I knew you’d never notice me,” you mumble. “I was just the guy you bullied.”  

She grins wickedly. “That’s not true. You were also good at doing my homework.” Her laugh is loud and unrepentant, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of humiliation all over again.  

Her fingers tug at the hem of her shorts. “What do you think of my pajamas?”  

You glance up at her reluctantly. The short shorts hug her hips in all the right ways, and her tank top perfectly shapes her breasts. “You look… hot,” you admit quietly.  

She smirks, clearly satisfied. “Good, because I picked them out just to tease you. But I think you’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night.” She stands, finally freeing you from her hold, and stretches languidly. “Go get on your bed. It’s going to be the best night of your life.”

Without much choice, you agree. Yujin goes to the door and locks it, then joins you. Now the bed feels smaller now with her on it, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight as Yujin stretches out, making herself comfortable like she owns the place. The Lion King is still paused on your laptop, Simba frozen trying to wake up his already lifeless father, a stark reminder of how normal your night had been before this. Your stomach flips as she looks at you with that amused smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority.  

“So,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “if you want me to fuck you, you’ve got to prove it.”  

“Prove it?” you echo nervously, fiddling with the edge of your blanket.  

“Yeah,” she says, sitting cross-legged now, her bare thighs on full display. “Show me you love me. Show me you’re capable of doing anything for me.”  

Your throat feels tight as you stammer, “But… isn’t this… wrong? I mean, because of our parents?”  

Yujin’s smirk deepens, and she leans forward, her face close enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath. “Who says they have to know? This can be our little secret,” she purrs, her tone dripping with mockery.  

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. She notices, of course. Yujin notices everything. “Look,” she says, her voice firm now, “I don’t fuck guys who don’t value me. If you’re not willing to worship me, I'm getting the hell out of your little room so you can jerk off to some disgusting hentai alone.

Her words sting, and before you can even formulate a response, she stretches out one long, toned leg, her foot pointed like a ballerina’s. “Here’s how this works,” she says, wiggling her toes. “If you want to cum tonight, you’re going to worship me. Like a goddess.”  

Your face burns as you stare at her foot, delicate and perfectly pedicured, her nails painted a glossy red. “I don’t… I don’t have a foot fetish,” you stammer weakly.  

Yujin rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “I don’t give a fuck if you do or not. I told you to suck my toes. So, do it.”  

You hesitate, but her expression shifts, her gaze narrowing. “Are you really going to make me repeat myself? Suck. My. Toes.”  

There’s something commanding in her tone that makes your heart race. You swallow hard, your gaze flickering to her foot. It’s undeniably… beautiful. Soft skin, high arch, perfectly shaped. Before you can overthink it, you lean forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the top of her foot.  

She laughs, low and pleased. “Good boy. But I said suck, not kiss. Start with my toes.”  

Your hands tremble slightly as you lift her foot, her skin warm against your palms. You bring it closer, your lips brushing against her big toe. “Take it slow,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, her voice a purr. “I want to enjoy this.”  

You start tentatively, pressing kisses along her toes, your lips lingering longer each time. The scent of her lotion is faint but sweet, and you find yourself losing the initial awkwardness. Her skin is soft, smoother than you expected, and the warmth of her body feels oddly intimate.  

“Now lick,” she commands, her tone playful but firm.  

Your tongue darts out, tracing the curve of her big toe. The taste is neutral, nothing unpleasant, and as you swirl your tongue around the pad of her toe, you catch a glimpse of her face. She’s watching you intently, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.  

“See?” she says, her voice a little breathier now. “Not so bad, is it?”  

You don’t respond, too focused on the task. Your lips wrap around her toe, sucking gently, and she lets out a soft hum of approval. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “Use your tongue more. I want to feel it everywhere.”  

You move to her other toes, sucking and licking each one, the wet sounds almost obscene in the quiet room. Her foot flexes slightly in your grip, and you realize you’re gripping her ankle like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.  

“Good boy,” she says again, her tone dripping with condescension. “I think you’re actually starting to enjoy this.”  

You hate how right she is. 

There’s something strangely intimate about the act, the way her soft skin feels against your lips, the way her low murmurs of approval send a thrill through you. You glance up at her, your cheeks burning, and she smirks.  

“Don’t stop now,” she teases. “You’re just getting started. Show me how much you appreciate me.”  

Your tongue trails along the arch of her foot, your kisses growing bolder. Her laughter fills the room, light and mocking, but there’s a genuine note of pleasure there too.  

“Damn,” she says, wiggling her toes against your lips. “You’re a natural. Maybe you do have a foot fetish after all.”  

You shake your head, her toes still in your mouth, and she laughs harder. “Whatever you say, loser,” she purrs. “Just keep going. You’re doing great.”

Your lips drag slowly along the arch of her foot, tongue gliding up the curve, and every second feels surreal. You’re too deep into it now to stop. Yujin lounges back, one hand resting lazily on her stomach while the other dips beneath the waistband of her tiny shorts.  

Her movement catches your attention, and you pause for a fraction of a second before her voice cuts through the air. “Did I say you could stop?”  

“N-no,” you stammer, your breath warm against her skin.  

“Then don’t,” she snaps, but her tone is lighter now, almost teasing. Her fingers shift under her shorts, her hips shifting slightly. Her smirk widens when she sees your gaze flicker to the way her hand moves. “Eyes on my foot,” she orders. “You’re not done worshipping me.”  

You swallow hard and lean back in, your tongue running along the side of her foot now, your lips brushing her toes again, sucking gently. You hear her soft, satisfied sigh, and the sound sends heat pooling in your gut.  

“God, you’re really into this, huh?” she purrs, her fingers clearly working beneath the fabric of her shorts. “Look at you, completely devoted. It’s actually kind of cute… in a pathetic, loser-way.”  

Her words should sting, but instead, they just make you want to keep going, to prove yourself. You press firmer kisses along her foot, your tongue tracing every curve and ridge. Your hands tremble as they grip her ankle, and your own arousal throbs insistently, impossible to ignore.  

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt out suddenly, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.  

Yujin giggles, a sound that’s both mocking and genuinely pleased. “I know,” she says smugly, her hips rolling subtly as her fingers continue their work. “But it’s cute of you to say it out loud. Keep going, loser. You’re doing great.”  

Your mouth moves faster now, kissing and licking with more fervor, as if her approval is the only thing that matters. Your hand drifts down to your own pants, palming yourself through the fabric as you watch her.  

She notices, of course. “Oh, look at you,” she teases, her voice low and syrupy. “Touching yourself already? You’re so fucking easy. What are you even thinking about right now?”  

“You,” you admit breathlessly, the words spilling out in a rush. “You’re so hot, Yujin. You’re making me—”  

“Making you what?” she interrupts, her smirk growing.  

“Making me so fucking hard,” you say, your voice cracking slightly.  

Her laughter is soft, sultry, and her hand moves faster under her shorts. “Yeah? And you’re making my pussy so wet,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you, on your knees, sucking my toes like a good little boy. How could I not get turned on?”  

Your breath hitches at her words, and you press your palm harder against yourself, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “You look so fucking good,” you mutter.  

She grins lazily, her fingers disappearing deeper beneath her shorts. “Keep going,” she says, her tone commanding. “Make me even wetter. Prove you’re worth fucking.”  

You obey, diving back into your task with renewed determination. Her soft moans fill the room now, and every sound she makes sends shivers down your spine. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how easily she has you wrapped around her finger.  

“God, you’re pathetic,” she murmurs, but there’s a heat in her voice that makes it sound like a compliment. “And you fucking love it, don’t you?”  

You nod against her foot, her skin warm and soft against your lips. “I do,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “I love it. I love… you.”  

She freezes for a moment, her fingers pausing their movements. 

Then her smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Of course you do,” she says simply, her voice like velvet. “Now keep going, bitch.”

Your tongue glides across her toes, your saliva leaving them shiny and glistening. Yujin watches with a smirk that grows wider each time she flexes her foot and you eagerly follow, sucking and licking every inch. Her toes are damp, her skin slick and wet, and by now the faint taste of her lotion feels familiar on your tongue.  

“Wow,” she says mockingly, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you? My foot’s fucking drooling, and you look like you’re ready to propose to it.”  

You look up, her smug expression only making your cock twitch harder against the confines of your pants. Your lips hover over her big toe for a moment as you catch your breath, her words hitting something deep inside you.  

“You want to keep going?” she asks, tilting her head as her fingers lazily tap against her thigh. “Or are you finally gonna admit how much you’re loving this?”  

You don’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead, you lean down again, kissing the top of her foot, sucking on her toes, letting your lips linger longer this time. It’s humiliating, sure, but there’s something addictive about the way she looks at you, the way she controls every second of this.  

After a while, she pulls her foot away suddenly, smirking when she sees the disappointment flash across your face. “Alright, enough foreplay,” she says, her voice playful but firm. “Take off your pants.”  

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”  

“You heard me,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Pants. Underwear. Off. Now.”  

Your hands hesitate at the waistband of your pants, but her sharp gaze cuts through any lingering doubts. You nod, fumbling as you undo the button and slide them down, your boxers following soon after.  

The moment your cock springs free, Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, her cocky smirk falters. “Holy shit,” she says, her tone caught somewhere between surprise and appreciation. “For a loser virgin nerd, you’ve got a pretty big, thick cock. What a waste.”  

You don’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed, so you just stand there awkwardly, your hands twitching at your sides as she leans forward slightly, inspecting you like she’s trying to decide what to do next.  

“Alright,” she says, waving you back toward the bed. “Lie down. I wanna play with you a little first.”  

You obey, climbing onto the bed, your heart racing as she stretches out on the opposite side of the bed. Her foot, still slick with your saliva, presses gently against the base of your cock. The sudden contact makes you gasp, and she giggles, clearly enjoying your reaction.  

“Damn,” she teases, slowly sliding her foot up along your length. “Look at you. You’re already leaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”  

You bite your lip, your breath hitching as she presses her other foot against you, sandwiching your cock between both of them. The wetness from your earlier efforts makes every movement smooth and almost unbearably good.  

“How’s that feel?” she asks, her tone mockingly sweet as her feet start to move, stroking you with slow, deliberate motions.  

“F-fucking amazing,” you admit, your voice shaking.  

She laughs, her toes curling slightly as she drags them up the shaft. “Of course it does. I mean, look at you—getting jerked off by my feet. Bet you never imagined this happening in your wildest nerdy dreams.”  

You groan, your hips bucking slightly as her pace picks up. The wet glide of her skin against yours is intoxicating, every stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.  

“Stay still,” she orders, pressing her heel against your tip just enough to make you gasp. “You move, and I stop. Got it?”  

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as you fight to keep yourself in place. “Y-yeah, I got it,” you stammer.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension as her feet resume their slow, teasing movements.  

The room fills with the obscene sound of her slick feet stroking you, the wetness amplifying every glide. She watches you intently, her lips curling into a smirk every time you let out a ragged moan or bite your lip to hold back a louder one.  

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her feet pressing tighter around your cock as she moves faster. “All that attitude earlier, and now you’re just a whimpering little mess. Bet you’d do anything I told you to right now, huh?”  

“Y-yes,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.  

She grins triumphantly, her toes brushing against your tip in a way that makes your entire body shudder. “That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “You’re such a good little loser when you’re like this. Makes me almost want to keep you around.”  

You groan, your hips jerking slightly despite her earlier warning. Her smirk widens as she presses her feet down harder, the added pressure making you gasp.  

“Getting close already?” she asks, her tone dripping with amusement. “Wow, you really are pathetic. Guess I’d better slow down, huh?”  

“Please don’t,” you beg, your voice breaking.  

Her laugh is low and wicked as she leans back slightly, her feet never stopping their relentless motion. “I dunno,” she says playfully. “Maybe I’ll let you cum… if you beg me properly.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan. “Please, Yujin. Please let me cum. I’ll do anything you want.”  

Her smirk softens into something almost approving. “That’s better,” she says, her feet stroking you faster now. “Now, let’s see just how much of a mess you can make for me.” 

Yujin’s feet slide up and down your cock with maddening precision, the slick warmth of your spit coating every inch of her smooth skin. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, and her smug smirk only makes it worse. She knows exactly what she’s doing—driving you insane with a combination of physical control and that sharp tongue of hers.  

“Look at you,” she says, her voice low and dripping with mockery. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart. You’re such a fucking mess.”  

Your hands grip the sheets tightly, your breath coming in short gasps. “Y-Yujin…” you stammer, but she doesn’t let you finish.  

“Don’t talk,” she snaps, pressing her toes against the sensitive tip of your cock. The pressure makes you moan loudly, your hips jerking against her feet. “Just moan for me like the desperate little virgin you are.”  

The words even hit you with a certain impact, but the pleasure is too overwhelming for you to even protest. “I’m not—”  

“Shut up,” she interrupts, her feet sliding faster now, the wet sounds filling the room. “Do you really think I believe that? You’re pathetic. A loser. But you’re my loser tonight, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely audible.  

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. Her hand disappears under her shorts again, and this time, she doesn’t bother to hide what she’s doing. Her fingers move rhythmically, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips rocking slightly.  

“You like this, don’t you?” she says, her voice breathy but still full of authority. “Being under me. Being humiliated by me. You missed it, didn’t you?”  

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t speak. She doesn’t let up, her feet sliding faster, her toes curling around you just right. “Answer me,” she demands.  

“Yes,” you finally admit, your voice cracking as the confession spills out. “Yes, I missed it.”  

Her grin widens, her movements growing more deliberate. “Missed what, exactly? Be specific.”  

You groan, your head pressing back against the pillow. “I missed… I missed you,” you manage between ragged breaths.  

“Missed me?” she repeats, her laughter soft and condescending. “That’s cute. But what about me, huh? Did you miss being humiliated? Miss the attention I gave you? Did you miss the way I used to push you around?”  

Your chest tightens, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Yes! Fuck, yes, I missed it. I missed you. I missed… how aggressive you were.”  

She lets out a low, triumphant hum, her hand moving faster under her shorts as she leans forward slightly. “You missed me putting you in your place, didn’t you?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice desperate now.  

“And now you’re here,” she purrs, her toes pressing down against the head of your cock, drawing a strangled gasp from you. “Completely under my control. Look at you, squirming under my feet like a little bitch. I bet you’re loving every second of it.”  

“I am,” you admit.

“God, you’re such a loser,” she says, her feet sliding faster, the wet sounds growing louder. “But at least you’re my loser. Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you love me.”  

“I love it,” you gasp, your body trembling as you edge closer and closer to release. “I love you, Yujin. Fuck, I love you.”  

Her smirk softens slightly, just enough to make you wonder if she’s taking this all in stride or actually enjoying it as much as you are. Her toes curl around you again, and the friction pushes you right to the edge.  

“Go on, then,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Paint my feet with your virgin load. Show me what a good little foot bitch you can be."

She speeds up her movements again, her feet working your shaft with practiced skill. The pressure builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. With a strangled cry, your orgasm explodes making you roll your eyes. 

Your cock pulses violently as thick ropes of cum shoot out, coating her soles and toes in your hot seed. She doesn't stop moving her feet, milking every last drop from your twitching member as you shake and moan helplessly.

"Holy fuck, look how much you came," Yujin laughs, spreading her toes to watch the cum drip between them. "Guess you really did need this release badly. Been saving up all this spunk just for my feet, haven't you?"  

You nod weakly, your body still trembling as the last waves of pleasure roll through you. She pulls her feet away, inspecting them with an amused grin before wiping them on the sheets.  

“Hope you’re ready,” she says, her voice light but wicked. “We’re just getting started.”  

The room feels heavy with the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of cum and sweat. You’re sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Before you can fully recover, she leans in.  

Her face is so close that you can feel her breath on your lips, warm and teasing. Her eyes lock onto yours, a spark of mischief and something darker flickering there. Her lips brush against yours, just barely, a ghost of a touch that sends shivers down your spine.  

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she whispers, her voice low and sultry, dripping with temptation.  

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.  

She smirks, leaning back just a fraction. “Say it,” she demands, her tone sharp. “Say you belong to me.”  

Your heart pounds in your chest as her eyes bore into yours. “I… I belong to you,” you stammer, the words feeling both foreign and natural in your mouth.  

“Good boy,” she purrs, and then her lips crash against yours.  

It’s electrifying. Her mouth moves against yours with a mix of dominance and hunger, her lips soft but demanding. The taste of her consumes you, your head spinning as her hand cups your jaw, holding you exactly where she wants you.  

When she finally pulls back, your lips are tingling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. She studies your face with a satisfied smirk. “Was that your first kiss?”  

Your face burns, and you nod, too embarrassed to speak.  

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, her voice filled with disbelief and delight. “Your first fucking kiss. God, you’re such a loser.” Her smirk deepens, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But you’re my loser...”  

Her words make you shiver, and she leans in again, her lips hovering over yours. “Open your mouth,” she orders softly.  

You obey, your lips parting instinctively, and she spits directly into your mouth. The warm, salty taste coats your tongue, and before you can even process it, her mouth is on yours again.  

This time, the kiss is messier, wetter. Her tongue invades your mouth, exploring and claiming, and you can’t help but respond, your own tongue meeting hers in a clumsy but eager dance. Spit mixes and drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All that matters is her, the way she tastes, the way she’s completely consuming you.  

When she finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking down at you with that same infuriatingly smug grin.  

“Are you going to take everything I give you?” she asks, her voice low and demanding.  

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your voice shaky but certain.  

“Promise me,” she says, her tone softer but no less commanding.  

“I promise,” you say, your eyes locking onto hers.  

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head with a playful smirk. “God, it’s so fucking annoying how wet you make me. You’re such a pathetic little virgin, but you’re driving me insane.”  

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through your body, and she sits up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She slides them down slowly, revealing her soaked panties, the fabric clinging to her skin.  

“Your turn to please me now,” she says, pushing her panties to the side to reveal her glistening folds. The sight is mesmerizing, and your throat tightens as you take her in.  

“If you eat my pussy well,” she continues, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself over you, “I might just reward you. But if you suck at it…” She smirks, her thighs flexing slightly. “Let’s just say I’ll be very disappointed.”  

She shifts closer, her knees on either side of your head, her thighs framing your face. Her scent is intoxicating, heady and warm, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core.  

“Are you ready to be squeezed by my thighs again?” she asks, her voice teasing but firm.  

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation.  

“Good,” she says. “Now don’t disappoint me, loser.”

Yujin lowers herself onto your face slowly, deliberately, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against your lips for the first time. You’re instantly overwhelmed—her scent, her warmth, the slickness of her folds—it’s all so new, so intense.  

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Your tongue flicks out hesitantly, just barely brushing her, and you hear her scoff from above.  

“Don’t just sit there, nerd,” she says, her voice sharp but tinged with amusement. “Start licking. God, do I have to teach you everything?”  

You nod against her, your hands awkwardly resting on her thighs as you try to figure it out. “Yes,” you mumble, your voice muffled by her.  

She lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching down to grab your hair and yank your head back slightly. “Fine. Listen up,” she commands. “Start with my clit. It’s the little nub at the top. Just lick it softly—don’t get all sloppy yet. Got it?”  

“Got it,” you mutter, and tentatively, your tongue moves to where she’s directed. You find the sensitive bundle of nerves and give it a slow, deliberate lick.  

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her voice softening slightly. “But don’t be afraid to use your whole tongue. Make it feel good for me.”  

You nod again, more confident now, and start swirling your tongue around her clit, alternating between soft licks and gentle flicks. The reaction is immediate—her thighs twitch slightly against your head, and she lets out a low, pleased hum.  

“Not bad,” she says, her voice teasing. “For a first-timer, anyway. Keep going. Use your lips too—suck on it a little.”  

You obey without hesitation, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Her soft moan above you sends a rush of adrenaline through your system, and you grip her thighs tighter, wanting to hear more.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, her hand still tangled in your hair as she starts to grind against your face. “You’re learning fast, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”  

Her words spur you on, and you press your tongue flat against her, licking her in long, slow strokes before returning to her clit. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, and you find yourself savoring the taste—warm, slightly salty, and completely intoxicating.  

Her moans grow louder, but her tone remains dominant, even now. “Don’t get cocky,” she warns, her hips rolling against your mouth. “You’re doing okay, but I want more. Stick your tongue inside me.”  

Your heart pounds as you comply, your tongue darting into her entrance. Her slick walls clench around you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You push deeper, your nose brushing against her clit as you try to keep up with her grinding.  

“Fuck, that’s it,” she breathes, her dominant tone cracking just slightly as her pleasure builds. “You’re finally starting to get it. Keep going, don’t you dare stop.”  

Her taste is addictive, her heat pulling you in, and you lose yourself in the act. Your hands slide up her thighs, holding her hips steady as you thrust your tongue in and out of her, your lips dragging against her folds with every movement.  

“God, you’re such a little slut for me,” she says, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Getting addicted to my pussy, huh? I can feel it—you don’t want to stop, do you?”  

You shake your head against her, your tongue never faltering.  

Her laughter is breathy, almost ragged now. “Of course you don’t. You’re fucking addicted already. Good. That’s exactly where I want you.”  

Her thighs tighten around your head, squeezing just enough to make you feel completely trapped beneath her. Her grinding grows more frantic, her slickness dripping down your chin, and you can feel her body trembling as she approaches her climax.  

“Don’t stop,” she commands, her voice breaking into a moan. “Fuck, don’t you fucking stop.”

Yujin’s moans fill the room, soft and breathy at first but quickly growing louder, more desperate. Each sound she makes sends a surge of adrenaline through you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling against her clit, dipping into her soaked folds. Her taste is addictive, her slickness coating your lips and chin, and you’re completely lost in the moment.  

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hand gripping your hair tighter, her hips rolling against your face. “You’re actually good at this. Keep going, loser. Don’t stop.”  

Her praise—if you can even call it that—makes your heart pound harder. You grip her thighs, your hands trembling slightly as you pull her closer, burying your face even deeper between her legs. Your tongue moves faster now, swirling around her clit before sliding down to tease her entrance.  

“Goddamn,” she moans, her voice muffled as she bites her lip, clearly struggling to keep quiet. Her head tilts back, and her free hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit… I can’t—my mom—fuck, don’t stop, loser, just… don't go all out like that.”  

You’re too focused to respond, your tongue pressing firmly against her clit as you suck gently, your lips dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her thighs clamp tighter around your head, and you can feel her whole body trembling, her hips grinding harder against your face.  

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mutters under her breath, her hand still covering her mouth as her muffled moans escape. “If they hear—fuck, it’s so good—I swear I’ll kill you if you stop now.”  

You have no intention of stopping. 

Her moans are your fuel, and you redouble your efforts, your tongue working furiously to push her closer to the edge. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking softly between strokes, and her reaction is immediate.  

“Fuck!” she whispers harshly, her hips bucking against your face. “Right there—yeah, your tongue is perfect!"

Yujin’s thighs tighten around your head, the wet heat of her pussy pressing harder against your lips as her moans grow louder, more urgent. Every breathy whimper, every shaky sigh she lets out fuels you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling with renewed determination.  

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice cracking. Her hand flies to her mouth again, muffling her next moan. “God, you’re gonna get us caught, you idiot—” Her words cut off into a muffled moan as her hips grind harder against your face.  

You don’t stop. If anything, her desperation spurs you on. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking gently before dipping down to explore her folds, her slick juices coating your lips and chin. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.  

“Fuck, fuck,” she mutters behind her hand, her thighs trembling against your head. “You’re actually—oh my god—you’re actually good at this.”  

Her hips start moving erratically, grinding against your face with an urgency that makes your heart race. She’s close, you can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the way her moans pitch higher despite her efforts to muffle them.  

“Don’t stop,” she whispers harshly, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of your tongue against her. “Fuck, don’t you dare stop—”  

You tighten your grip on her thighs, holding her steady as you give it your all, your tongue focusing on her clit, flicking and circling as her grinding grows frantic. Her juices drip down your chin, warm and slick, and you don’t care about the mess—you’re too consumed by the need to push her over the edge.  

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice muffled but trembling. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”  

Her body stiffens suddenly, her thighs clamping tightly around your head as a muffled cry escapes her lips. Her hips jerk against your face, and you feel a rush of warmth as she cums, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin.  

You keep going, your tongue moving gently now, lapping up every drop as she rides out her orgasm. Her hand falls from her mouth, and she lets out a shaky sigh, her body trembling above you.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters, her voice raw and breathless. She shifts slightly, her thighs relaxing their grip on your head, and you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.  

“You actually… you actually made me cum,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement. “I didn’t think you had it in you, loser.”  

You manage a weak smile, your lips and chin still glistening with her juices.  

She smirks, leaning down to wipe your chin with her thumb before sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. “Guess you’re good for something after all,” she says, her voice soft but teasing. “Now, lick me clean. Every last drop.”  

Yujin slides off your face, leaving you breathless, her thighs glistening with her slick juices. She collapses onto the bed, spreading her legs lazily, her pussy still flushed and dripping. “Come on, you’ve got work to do,” she says, tilting her head toward her wet thighs. “Clean me up.”  

You nod wordlessly, leaning in and pressing your tongue to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is soft and warm, her taste still fresh on your lips. You drag your tongue up slowly, savoring every drop, alternating between long licks and soft kisses.  

Her fingers thread through your hair as she watches you work. “What do you think of my taste?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.  

You glance up at her, your lips brushing against the curve of her thigh. “It’s perfect,” you say, your voice full of reverence.  

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, and she props herself up on one elbow. “Good boy,” she purrs. “You’ve earned a reward.”  

Before you can ask what she means, she pulls her tank top over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts are revealed—average-sized, perky, with small, pink nipples that practically beg for attention. She lies on her side next to you, her body relaxed but her eyes sharp as she studies your reaction.  

“First time seeing tits in real life?” she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and mockery.  

You nod, your face flushing. “Y-yeah.”  

She smirks, leaning closer. “You wanna touch them?”  

Your throat feels dry as you nod again, unable to tear your eyes away from her chest.  

“Ask nicely,” she demands, her voice taking on that commanding edge again.  

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you say, “Yujin, can I… can I touch them, please?”  

She grins, clearly enjoying your nervousness. “Go ahead,” she says, arching her back slightly to push her chest closer to you.  

Your hands tremble as you reach out, your fingers brushing against her soft skin for the first time. The sensation is incredible—warm, supple, and completely new. You cup her breasts gently, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she lets out a soft hum of approval.  

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost tender.  

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Don’t be shy,” she says, her smirk returning. “You can squeeze them. Play with them.”  

You obey, your hands moving more confidently now. You massage her breasts, your fingers exploring every curve and dip, your thumbs circling her nipples until they harden under your touch. She arches her back slightly, pressing into your hands, her breath hitching.  

“Good,” she murmurs. “Now suck them.”  

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, your lips wrapping around one of her nipples as your tongue flicks against it. She lets out a soft sigh, her hand resting on the back of your head to keep you in place.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. “You’re eager, huh? Like a starving puppy.”  

Her words make your cock twitch, already rock-hard again. You switch to her other breast, sucking and licking with the same enthusiasm, your hands kneading her soft flesh.  

She notices your arousal, of course, her hand trailing down your body until it wraps around your shaft. “You’re so fucking hard again,” she murmurs, stroking you slowly. “It’s almost pathetic how much you want this.”  

You let out a muffled groan against her breast, your hips jerking into her hand as she strokes you with practiced ease. Her thumb glides over your tip, spreading the pre-cum leaking from you.  

“God, you’re such a mess,” she teases, her voice full of mockery and heat. “But you’re my mess.”  

Yujin’s fingers work your cock with a steady, teasing rhythm, her hand warm and slick from your pre-cum. Meanwhile, your mouth is still on her breasts, sucking and licking her hardened nipples with devotion. You feel intoxicated—her scent, her taste, the way she completely controls every second of this—it’s all too much, yet not enough.  

You get carried away, your teeth grazing her nipple just a bit too hard. She gasps, her back arching, and suddenly her hand tightens around your cock, squeezing just enough to make you freeze.  

“Hey!” she snaps, her tone sharp as her eyes narrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t just bite a woman’s nipples like that.”  

You pull back immediately, your face heating up. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking up at her.  

She huffs, her fingers loosening but still holding you firmly. “God, you’ve got so much to learn,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What are you, a fucking caveman? Be gentle.”  

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you say again, swallowing hard.  

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “At least you’re eager. I’ll give you that. But don’t fuck up again, or I might just leave you here with blue balls.”  

You nod quickly, your lips returning to her breast, this time much more careful. She relaxes again, her smirk returning as her hand resumes stroking you. “That’s better,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “Good boy. Keep sucking.”  

You lose yourself in the moment, your lips wrapping around her nipple, your tongue flicking and swirling while her hand works you faster. The combination of sensations is almost too much to handle, and you let out a muffled moan against her skin.  

“God, you’re so fucking loud,” she mutters, her fingers sliding up to rub your sensitive tip. “If you keep making noises like that, they’re gonna hear us.”  

She pulls back suddenly, her breasts leaving your mouth as she sits up, looking down at you with a wicked grin. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”  

“Time for what?” you ask, breathless and dazed.  

“For me to fuck you,” she says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”  

She chuckles, leaning in close. “You sure?” she asks, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m not stopping until I cum, so you’d better keep up.”  

“I’m sure,” you say, your voice trembling.  

Her grin widens as she pulls away, finally standing up beside the bed. “Maybe it won’t be too hard,” she says, eyeing your cock. “With a dick that big, you might actually make me feel something.”  

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down slowly, teasingly, until they fall to the floor. Her pussy is glistening, flushed and ready, and you can’t take your eyes off her.  

“Open your mouth,” she commands suddenly.  

You blink, confused. “What?”  

She picks up her soaked panties and dangles them in front of your face. “You heard me. Open your mouth.”  

“Shouldn’t you be the one gagged with them?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.  

She lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re adorable,” she says mockingly. “But no, loser. You don’t get to make the rules here. Now open up, or I’ll reconsider this whole thing.”  

You hesitate for only a second before obeying, parting your lips.  

“Good boy,” she says, smirking as she presses the damp fabric into your mouth. The taste of her is overwhelming—warm, musky, and undeniably intoxicating. “See? You love the way I taste anyway, don’t you?”  

You nod, your cheeks burning as she climbs back onto the bed, positioning herself above you.  

“Keep those in,” she orders, her hands planting on your chest as she straddles your hips. “I don’t want to hear a fucking peep out of you.”  

Her wet folds brush against the tip of your cock, and the sensation is electric, making your whole body tense. She grins down at you, her eyes locking onto yours as she teases you, grinding against you without letting you inside.  

“Ready, loser?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery and heat.  

You nod frantically, muffled sounds escaping around the panties in your mouth.  

“Good,” she murmurs, positioning herself before sinking down onto you in one slow, deliberate motion.  

The heat and tightness of her envelop you completely, and the sensation is almost too much to handle. Your head falls back against the pillow, muffled groans spilling out as she bottoms out, her hips resting flush against yours.  

“Fuck,” she mutters, biting her lip as she adjusts to your size. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”  

She starts to move, her hips rolling slowly at first, her wetness making every movement smooth and maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, her nails digging in slightly as she picks up the pace, riding you with a confidence that leaves you breathless.  

“God, you feel so fucking good,” she moans.

Yujin's hips roll against you with an almost punishing rhythm, her wetness making every thrust slick and smooth. Her moans escape her lips in breathy, desperate bursts, and she bites her lip, trying and failing to keep them low. The whole scene feels unreal—Yujin, the girl who made your life hell in high school, is now on top of you, her pussy gripping you so tight it feels like she was made for this.  

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she rides you harder. “You’re actually doing it for me. Who knew this pathetic little loser would have such a good cock?”  

You can’t reply, not with her soaked panties stuffed in your mouth, so you nod instead, your muffled groans mixing with the obscene sounds of her riding you.  

Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her pace quickens. Her nipples, hard and pink, peek between her fingers as she teases herself, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside her.  

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice sultry but still laced with that teasing edge. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? Your big bad bully fucking the shit out of you.”  

You nod frantically, your eyes glued to her chest as her hands work her breasts.  

“Thought so,” she purrs, smirking down at you. “Am I hot? Tell me I’m fucking hot.”  

You nod again, your muffled voice straining around the fabric in your mouth.  

She laughs breathlessly, her hips slamming down harder now. “God, you’re so easy. Just a big, dumb dick for me to use. And fuck, you feel so fucking good.”  

Her moans grow louder, and she presses one hand against her mouth, her other hand still massaging her breast. “Shit, I can’t be too loud,” she mutters, grinding harder. “Your dad and my mom would fucking kill us if they knew what we were doing.”  

The thought of being caught only seems to turn her on more, her movements becoming more frantic as she chases her own pleasure. You’re completely at her mercy, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm, her thighs flexing as she rides you like she owns you.  

But then she slows, her hands sliding down to your chest as she leans over you, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s change it up,” she whispers, her voice dripping with authority.  

She pulls off you with a slick, wet sound, leaving you throbbing and desperate. Grabbing your wrists, she maneuvers you onto your back, your legs spreading awkwardly as she positions herself between them.  

“This is called the Amazon position,” she says, her tone mocking as she smirks down at you. “You’re about to get fucked properly.”  

She straddles your waist, your cock pressing against her soaked folds again as she grips your thighs for leverage. With one hand, she lines you up, her other hand pressing against your chest to keep you in place.  

“Ready?” she asks, her smirk widening as she looks down at you.  

You nod, your muffled groan turning into a desperate whimper as she sinks down onto you again, her pussy taking you in inch by inch.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her head tilting back as she adjusts to the new angle. “You’re so fucking deep like this. God, I might actually let you cum if you keep feeling this good.”  

Her hands grip your thighs tighter as she starts moving, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. The position gives her complete control, and she takes full advantage, slamming down onto you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath you.  

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Lying there like a good little toy, letting me use you. Bet you’ve never had a girl take charge like this, huh?”  

You shake your head, your hands gripping the sheets as she rides you relentlessly, her moans filling the room despite her earlier efforts to keep quiet.  

“God, you’re so fucking easy,” she pants, her movements becoming faster, more erratic. “I could do this all night. Fuck, I might have to—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this dick.”  

Yujin’s hips roll and slam against you with abandon now, the room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of her pussy taking you over and over. Her breathing is heavy, her moans louder, no longer restrained. It’s as if she’s forgotten where you are—or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore. The way her nails dig into your chest, her thighs flexing with each thrust, tells you she’s chasing her high, and nothing else matters.  

Your body arches beneath her, the sensation overwhelming, her wet heat gripping you so tightly it feels like she’s molding herself to your cock. You can’t help it anymore—the panties in your mouth feel suffocating. With trembling hands, you yank them out and gasp, your voice cracking as you moan, “Fuck, Yujin… this feels so good. I’m—I’m loving this.”  

Her head snaps down, her eyes locking onto yours, a mix of dominance and amusement lighting up her face. “Oh yeah?” she pants, her pace not faltering for a second. “You love being fucked by me? You love being under me like this?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice shaky but full of conviction. “I fucking love it.”  

She laughs, low and breathless, her lips curling into that wicked smirk that’s burned into your mind. “Of course you do,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still slamming into you with precision. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets as her words send another wave of heat through you.  

“Say it,” she commands, her voice sharp despite the tremor of pleasure in it. “Say you’re my little whore.”  

“I’m your little whore,” you cry out, your voice cracking as her movements grow more frantic.  

She bites her lip, her head falling back for a moment before she looks down at you again, her eyes burning with intensity. “Do I own you?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost intimate, but the demand in her tone is unmistakable.  

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling. “You own me. I belong to you, Yujin.”  

Yujin’s movements become erratic, her hips grinding down onto you with a desperate rhythm, her thighs trembling as she takes you deeper with every thrust. The Amazon position lets her dominate you completely, her hands pressing firmly against your chest for leverage.

The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy swallowing your cock echo in the room, mingling with her moans, which are growing louder and less controlled. She’s past caring about being overheard, her voice shaky and raw as her pleasure builds to a fever pitch.  

“Fuck,” she gasps, her head tilting back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she loses herself in the sensation. “You feel so fucking good… I’m so close.”  

Her thighs flex around your waist, her entire body trembling with the effort to ride you faster, harder. She leans forward, her face hovering inches above yours, her breath hot and ragged as she looks into your eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser,” she pants, her lips curling into a smirk even as her voice shakes. “But this cock… god, this cock is fucking perfect.”  

You groan beneath her, your hands gripping the sheets as her pussy clenches tighter around you. The heat, the pressure, the way she moves—it’s all too much, and you can barely hold on as she takes you closer to the edge.  

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her pace grows frantic. Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing her own nipples as she rides you like her life depends on it. “Don’t you fucking dare come now,” she orders, her tone desperate now. “Just… fuck, just stay right there.”  

Her hips slam down onto you one last time, her body stiffening as she throws her head back with a loud, guttural moan. Her pussy clamps down around your cock, squeezing and pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs tremble violently, and her nails dig into your chest hard enough to leave marks as she grinds down onto you, riding out every last wave of pleasure.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, her voice raw and breathless as her body jerks against yours. Her slickness floods around you, the heat of her orgasm soaking your thighs and dripping down onto the bed.  

When she finally collapses forward, her chest pressing against yours, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She’s still trembling slightly, her pussy fluttering around your cock as the last aftershocks of her climax ripple through her.  

“Holy shit,” she mutters against your neck, her voice low and hoarse. “That was fucking insane.”  

You stay still beneath her, your cock still hard inside her as her slick heat surrounds you. She lifts her head after a moment, her smirk returning as she looks down at you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest.  

“You didn’t cum yet, did you?” she asks, her tone smug.  

You shake your head, your breath still uneven.  

“Good,” she says, biting her lip as her hips shift slightly, her pussy still gripping you tightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Your cock is amazing.”

You smile weakly, your hands resting on her back as you catch your breath. “You’re… pretty amazing yourself,” you manage, your voice still shaky.  

She chuckles softly, her breath warm against your skin. “Damn right I am.”  

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies tangled, the post-orgasm haze making everything feel surreal. Especially Yujin, who is kissing you with a tenderness you would never expect from her.  

Then, a sharp knock on the door shatters the quiet.  

“Everything okay in there?” your dad’s voice calls out, muffled through the wood.  

Your heart stops, and Yujin’s eyes snap open, wide with panic. She looks at you, mouthing, do something!

“Y-yeah!” you call back, trying to sound casual.  

Your dad pauses for a moment. “I thought I heard a scream,” he says.  

“Oh, uh, I'm watching a movie!” you blurt out, your voice cracking slightly. “That must’ve been it.”  

“A movie?” he repeats, sounding skeptical.  

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’ll, uh, turn it down. Sorry about that.”  

There’s another pause before your dad finally says, “Alright. Just keep it down, okay? Yujin must be asleep already.”  

“Okay, no problem!” you reply, relief washing over you as you hear his footsteps retreating.  

You and Yujin stay frozen for a moment, then look at each other, wide-eyed. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face, and she starts laughing softly. You can’t help but join her, the tension melting away as you both dissolve into quiet, breathless giggles.  

“You’re fucking insane,” you whisper, shaking your head.  

She smirks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun,” she says smugly.  

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “What does it feel like?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer now.  

“What?”  

“Being fucked by a woman,” she says, her smirk returning. “What’s it like?”  

You pause, your face flushing as you search for the right words. “It’s… the best feeling ever,” you admit. “Your pussy is so tight, it feels so fucking good.”  

Her smirk widens, and she sits up slightly, her hands resting on your chest. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing. “Wanna see how my pussy grips your cock?”  

Your breath catches, and you nod quickly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling.  

She grins wickedly, sliding off you and turning around. “Alright then,” she says, positioning herself on your thighs in a perfect reverse cowgirl. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”  

With that, she lowers herself onto you again, her wet heat enveloping you completely. The sight of her ass bouncing as she starts to ride you is almost too much to handle, and you grip her hips, your fingers sinking into her soft skin as she takes control once more.

Yujin’s hips move in slow, deliberate circles, her wet heat gripping your cock like a vice. From your vantage point, you have a perfect view of her pussy taking you in with every motion, clinging to you tightly as she lifts herself up and sinks back down. It’s mesmerizing—the way she moves is hypnotic, every roll of her hips precise and calculated.  

Her head tilts back slightly, her hands braced on your thighs for balance, her breathing steady but filled with quiet moans. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s driving you crazy.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding up to her waist and then lower to her ass. You can’t help yourself—you squeeze her buttocks, soft and fleshy, feeling the way they move under your hands as she rides you.  

She chuckles breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Like what you see?”  

“Yeah,” you gasp, your fingers digging into her skin as her pace remains maddeningly slow. “You’re fucking perfect.”  

“I know,” she purrs, arching her back slightly to give you an even better view. “Keep talking, loser. I like hearing how much you love this.”  

“You’re amazing,” you admit, your voice trembling. “The way you move, the way you feel… it’s fucking incredible.”  

Her smirk widens as she lets out a low moan, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm. “Of course it is,” she teases. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and now you finally know it.”  

Your fingers tighten on her ass, your hips twitching involuntarily as she grinds down harder. The pleasure is almost unbearable, and then she slows again, her movements languid and torturous.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice strained.  

She glances back at you, her smirk turning wicked. “What?”  

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your hands gripping her tighter.  

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just enjoying myself.”  

Her pace remains steady for a moment before she shifts her weight slightly, taking you deeper. Her wetness makes every movement smooth and slick, and the sound of it fills the room, mixing with your ragged breathing.  

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

The question jolts you, and your heart skips a beat. “W-what?” you stammer, staring at her in shock.  

She giggles, rolling her hips in a way that makes your whole body shudder. “You heard me,” she says, her tone playful but teasing. “Do you want to cum inside me?”  

“I… I can’t,” you say quickly, panic creeping into your voice. “You could get pregnant.”  

Her laughter is wicked, and she glances back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, so you’re saying you’d like to get me pregnant, huh?”  

“What? No!” you protest, your face burning.  

“Think about it,” she continues, clearly enjoying your reaction. “The big, bad bully who made your life hell, walking around with your baby. Everyone would know it was you. Hell, I’d make sure they knew.”  

“Yujin!” you groan, equal parts embarrassed and aroused.  

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” she teases, her pussy tightening around you as she moves. “The thought of me, pregnant because of you. God, you’re such a perv.”  

“It’s exciting, yeah,” you admit reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… no. I don’t want that.”  

She laughs again, the sound rich and sultry. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “I’m on the pill, dumbass. I’ve been on it for a while.”  

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “Why?”  

“Maybe,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still moving, “I was waiting for this moment.”  

The idea sends a jolt of arousal through you, and your cock twitches inside her. “Fuck,” you mutter, your voice shaky. “If that’s true… then yes. I want to cum inside you. I really fucking want to.”  

Her grin widens, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Of course you do,” she says smugly, her hands gripping your thighs as she picks up the pace.  

Her hips slam down harder now, the rhythm more erratic as she chases both of your highs. The sight of her pussy taking you in, the sound of her moans mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin—it’s almost too much, but you manage to hold on, even as the pressure builds inside you.  

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” she warns, her voice breathy but firm. “Not until I say so.”  

Yujin’s movements grow frantic, her hips slamming down on your cock with an obscene rhythm. The sound of her ass smacking against your pelvis fills the room, wet and loud, accompanied by her uncontrollable moans. Her head tilts back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and you’re completely transfixed by the sight of her ass bouncing on your cock, jiggling with every violent thrust.  

“Fuck, Yujin,” you gasp, your voice strained. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold out.”  

She glances back at you, her face flushed and glistening with sweat, her lips curling into a devilish grin. “Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “You hold on. I need to cum again!”  

You grip the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white as the pleasure builds to unbearable levels. She’s going wild now, her pace relentless, her moans louder and more desperate. Every thrust sends waves of heat coursing through your body, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge.  

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice barely audible. “I’m gonna cum. I can’t hold it.”  

She lets out a sharp cry, her nails digging into your thighs as she rides you harder. “No,” she barks, her tone commanding even as her moans turn ragged. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’ll wait. You’ll cum when I say you can.”  

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to nod, your breath hitching as she continues to take you to your limits.  

“That’s it,” she pants, her voice softening slightly. “You’re my good boy. You’ll wait for me. Just a little longer, okay? We’re gonna cum together.”  

Her encouragement is intoxicating, and you fight to hold back, even as her pace grows more erratic. The wet sound of her pussy taking your cock mixes with the obscene slap of her ass against you, and you can feel her walls tightening around you, clenching rhythmically.  

“I’m so close,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Hold on for me. Just a little more.”  

Your body trembles beneath her, your cock throbbing inside her as she leans forward slightly, her nails dragging down your thighs. Her dirty talk spills from her lips in breathless gasps, driving you both closer to the edge.  

“God, you’re so deep,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I can feel every inch of you, stretching me so good. You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?”  

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your voice desperate.  

Her smirk returns, her hips slamming down harder. “You’re gonna fill me up,” she murmurs, her tone filthy. “Mix your cum with my juices. God, I want it so bad. I want your thick, hot cum in my pussy. Are you gonna give it to me?”  

“Yes,” you moan, your voice breaking as your grip on the sheets tightens.  

She lets out a loud, shaky cry, her movements growing wild and uncontrolled. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, her head tilting back. “I’m cumming! Cum with me, baby, cum inside me!”  

Her words are your undoing. Your body jerks beneath her as your orgasm crashes over you, and you let out a loud, guttural moan as you release deep inside her. Her pussy clamps down on you, pulsing and milking you for everything you have as she cries out, her body trembling with the force of her climax.  

The two of you ride out the waves together, your bodies locked in rhythm as her walls squeeze you tightly, your cum flooding her. Her hips slow, her movements becoming more erratic as the last tremors of her orgasm roll through her. Finally, she collapses forward, her chest heaving as she rests against your thighs, her body still twitching from the intensity.  

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was… holy shit.”  

You’re too spent to reply, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to catch your breath. She stays there for a moment before slowly sitting up, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face.  

“Let’s see the damage,” she says, her tone playful but tired.  

She lifts herself off you slowly, and you watch as your cock slips out of her with a wet, lewd sound. Thick streams of cum drip from her swollen pussy, trailing down her thighs and pooling on the sheets beneath her.  

“Damn,” she murmurs, reaching down to swipe her fingers through the mess before holding them up to show you. “You really filled me up, huh?”  

You nod weakly, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of her pussy still leaking your cum.  

She grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Not bad for a loser,” she teases softly. “Not bad at all.”  

The room is still, the air thick with the lingering heat of your bodies and the unmistakable scent of sex. Yujin sits beside you, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. You watch her, unable to tear your gaze away from the way her flushed skin glows under the soft light, her hair messy, her lips slightly swollen. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss her.  

It’s not a tentative kiss this time. It’s intense, filled with every ounce of passion you didn’t know you had left in you. Yujin freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness, but she recovers quickly. Her lips move against yours, just as hungry as before, her hands cupping your face as if she’s trying to figure out what just got into you.  

When you finally pull back, her eyes are wide, searching yours. “Wow,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”  

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit. “That was… the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”  

Yujin chuckles, a low, lazy sound that warms the environment. “Not gonna lie,” she says, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I think I might agree with you on that.”  

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t stop the words that come tumbling out next. “You look really beautiful right now,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.  

Her smirk returns, but there’s something softer behind it this time. “Careful,” she teases, tilting her head. “Are you falling in love with me or something?”  

Your face burns instantly, and you fumble for a response. “No! I mean… I—uh, that’s not what I meant—”  

She cuts you off with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, loser. I’m just messing with you.” Her voice drops slightly, and she looks at you, almost shy. “But… maybe I like you too. Just a little.”  

“Do you mean you like me now,” you ask after a moment, your voice hesitant, “or… did you like me in high school?”  

She hesitates, chewing her lip as if deciding whether to answer honestly. “Yeah, since high school,” she admits finally, avoiding your gaze.  

“But… then why were you so mean to me?”  

She rolls her eyes, but her smirk doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “You only ever see the bad side of things,” she says, her tone playful but tinged with something serious. “Do you not remember how many times I kept other people from fucking with you?”  

You blink, the memory surfacing almost instantly. A group of older guys had cornered you once by the lockers, shoving you around, but before things got worse, Yujin had shown up like a goddamn storm cloud. She’d sent them scattering with nothing more than a sharp glare and a few choice words.  

“That was you,” you mutter, the realization sinking in.  

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, that was me. Look, I’m not good at showing feelings, alright? My love language is… teasing. Irritating people. Making their lives hell. It's my defense mechanism. It's complicated to explain."

“So, what you’re saying is… the more you teased me, the more you liked me?”  

Her face flushes, and she scowls, swatting your arm. “Don't feel special just because I told you this, dumbass.” She pauses, then mutters, “But… maybe.”  

You grin, the bittersweet humor of it all settling over you. “That means you must have liked me a lot, then.”  

“Shut up,” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she leans in and kisses you again, softer this time.  

When she pulls back, she stretches out on the bed, looking far too comfortable. “Let’s watch your stupid Lion King movie,” she says.

You blink at her. “Didn’t you just make fun of it earlier?”  

She rolls her eyes. “I was teasing you, silly. Everyone loves Disney movies.”  

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your laptop on the desk, but something nags at you. “Shouldn’t you go back to your room?” you ask, glancing toward the door. “What if your mom or my dad heard us?”  

She smirks, unfazed. “First of all, your room is the last one in the hall, if they barely heard my screams before, they won't hear us now. Second, they both sleep like rocks. We’re fine.”  

Her confidence is oddly reassuring, and you relax a little as she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder.  

“What if they wake up early?” you ask, still not entirely convinced.  

She snorts. “I’ll sneak back before they do. Relax, loser. I’m not leaving yet.”  

The idea of her staying here, curled up next to you, makes your chest tighten in a way you don’t entirely understand. You glance down at her, and she catches your gaze, raising an eyebrow.  

“What?” she asks, her voice softer now.  

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but the small smile that tugs at your lips says otherwise.  

“Okay, let's change these sheets before we watch the movie,” says Yujin clapping her hands and getting up from the bed. “You need to wash them in secret tomorrow, don't forget.”

— 

After changing the sheets and Yujin brushing her teeth (and yes, she used your toothbrush), the two of you are in bed again, still naked, at Yujin's insistence. According to her, she loves the feeling of the soft blanket fabric against her bare skin.

You adjust the laptop on the bed, propping it up on a pillow so you both can see. "Alright, but if you start singing 'Hakuna Matata,' I swear..." you tease, giving her a playful nudge.

Yujin grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'll sing it alright. You'll be joining in by the end, just watch."

As the movie starts, you can't shake the surreal feeling of the whole situation. Here you are, watching The Lion King with Yujin, your new stepsister, both of you naked and sticky from what just went down. 

It's fucking weird, but also... kind of nice.

You glance down at her, her head resting on your shoulder. Her eyes are glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks so different like this—relaxed, almost innocent. It's a far cry from the smirking, foul-mouthed girl who was jerking you off with her foot just minutes ago.

About halfway through the movie, you feel her hand creep onto your thigh, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. It's distracting, but you don't want her to stop. You cover her hand with yours, giving it a squeeze. She looks up at you, her smile softening even more.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. "Yeah, it is."

As the movie continues, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is fucked up, no doubt about it. But it also feels... right. Like this is exactly where you're both meant to be, at least for tonight.

You push aside the nagging thoughts about what this means, about what happens next. For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this strange, perfect little bubble you've found yourselves in.

As the credits roll, Yujin looks up at you, her eyes searching. "So, what the hell are we going to do with this?" she asks, her voice soft.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I don't know. But I'm glad you're here."

She smiles back, her hand squeezing yours. "Me too, loser. Me too.”

[aeralux]

"Freak On a Leash" - Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: So what if you're fucking the weird dude? He has good dick game. But how were you supposed to know he gets attached easily?

Warnings: SMUT (18+); (pretty rough) car sex; oral (f!receiving); name calling (slut, whore etc); dark!Aemond near the end; hair pulling; choking; ass slapping; mentions of violence and blood

Words: 5.5k

Notes: No description of the reader. This was just going to be porn without a plot... but ofc I had to add some plot smh. This isn't dark dark, but it does contain some of the elements of it so... do not read it if you are not comfortable with that

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

He was weird, unsettling, and genuinely offputting. That's why your friends were baffled to know that you were fucking him multiple times a week, in the backseat of his car, no less. "He has good dick," you tried to tell them, saying it was worth it. But your words fell on deaf ears as none of them understood. Why him?

With long hair dyed black with a cheap store colour and a run-down 2005 Volvo S40, he didn't seem the kind of guy who could fuck a girl until her throat was raw. But you knew the truth. That's why you kept coming back, time after time.

So it was no surprise that, once again, you found yourself in his lap. In the backseat of his car, kissing and moaning, his hard cock pressing into your aching core.

"Blood?" You ask as you taste copper on your tongue when kissing his jaw. 

"Don't act like you don't find that hot," he grunted, a smug expression on his face. It's probably because whoever he fought, lost.

You smiled playfully, your lips brushing against his once more, caught in a moment where admitting he was right felt like submitting. The warmth between you grew, leaving just the two of you.

He tangled his fingers in your hair for a second before shifting his attention downward, fumbling with the delicate fabric of your flimsy top. The skin-tight shirt clung to your curves, resisting his attempts as if it had a will of its own. Frustration flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by determination as he continued to work his way around the stubborn material.

"Just rip it open for fuck's sake," you groan as he fumbles with your skin-tight white top. Your hips instinctively roll on top of his, ruining your cute white cotton panties with your juices.

Aemond groans deeply at your words. With a quick, decisive motion, he rips the fabric open, the sound of the tear deafening. Your black lacy bra is revealed, the delicate lace a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands as they cup your breasts.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin lace. "Gonna fucking wreck you."

He leans in, his hot mouth latching onto one nipple through the bra as his other hand slides down to rub your clit through your soaked panties. He groans against your skin at the wetness he finds there, the sound vibrating through you.

Oh gods, you are so fucking wet for him. You can feel your arousal soaking through the thin cotton, staining it with your desperation. You grind harder against the rigid bulge straining against his jeans, needing more friction, and more contact.

"So fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to delve between your folds. "Gonna make you come so hard."

You roll your hips harder against Aemond's bulge, your clit throbbing with every grind. Your skirt hangs loosely around your waist, resembling more of a belt.

"Fuck, these songs suck ass," you grumbled, reaching for Aemond's phone and scrolling through his playlists until you find something more to your liking. The change in music elicits a growl from Aemond, but you just smirk and lean in close, your lips brushing his jaw. The bass line of Rob Zombie's "Dragula" thumps through the car, a perfect complement to the nasty thoughts running through your mind.

"Okay, now you can fuck me," you giggle, your teeth grazing his skin before you soothe the sting with your tongue. You can taste the salt of his sweat, the copper tang of blood - a reminder of the fight he must have been in. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

"Who the fuck did you fight this time?" You ask, your voice low and husky with desire. But even as you speak, your focus is on the delicious friction between your legs, the way Aemond's hard length rubs against your aching core with every roll of your hips.

"Fucking some new guy, thought he could take me," Aemond growls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds up against you. "Taught him a lesson real quick."

He leans in, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he speaks. "He won't be coming back anytime soon. Not after the way I shattered his ribs." His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his cock.

"Now, quit talking and start begging for it," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear. He places a few light smacks on your cheek, making you smile at the lewd actions.

You shake your head, a wide smile spreading across your face as your eyes lose focus. The depravity of the situation, the dingy car, the smell of sweat and sex, it all makes you even wetter. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"You know I don't beg," you whisper, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you suck on it gently. Your teeth graze the sensitive skin, making him groan.

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. He sounds almost angry as he growls, "You'd better fucking start, or I'll stop right here."

"Fuck," you whimper as his bulge nudges against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your brows furrow, your eyes squeezed shut as you grind down harder, seeking more of that delicious friction.

To emphasize his point, he stills his hips, denying you the friction you crave. His other hand moves from your breast to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Please, Aemond," you moan, your voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Use me. Make me forget everything but your cock inside me."

Aemond's eyes darken with lust at your words, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "That's more like it," he purrs, his grip on your throat relaxing just slightly. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his free hand moving down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulls you down hard, grinding his clothed cock against your aching cunt.

"Gonna make you scream for me," he growls, his other hand moving from your throat to tangle in your hair. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his teeth grazing your skin.

His hips are moving now, grinding up against you in a filthy rhythm. The rough denim of his jeans rubs against your sensitive clit. You can feel the heat of him through the fabric, the hard length of his cock straining against his zipper.

You moan sluttily, desperate, shameless noises filling his car. You're too far gone to care about your pride. Impatiently, you tug the cups of your bra down, exposing your hardened nipples to the cool air. They're almost painfully sensitive, aching to be sucked.

"Suck," you command, your voice low and demanding. You arch your back, offering your breasts to him like a sacrificial lamb.

Aemond's eyes darken at your demand, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you think you're in charge here, do you?" he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

You gasp at the sharp pain, your eyes watering. "I think you need to be put in your place, slut," he sneers, his other hand roughly palming your breast.

He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed nipple. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, your pride fading due to your desperate need. "Please," you whimper, your voice small and needy. "Suck my tits, I need it so bad."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his teeth grazing your nipple. "That's more like it," he growls before his mouth envelops the sensitive bud.

You cry out, your back arching as he suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The pleasure is intense, bordering on pain, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you moan, your hand moving to the back of his head, trying to push him closer. But he pulls away, shaking his head.

"Hands off," he commands, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

You whimper, your hand falling away. "Sorry," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with shame.

Aemond just smirks, his hand moving to your other breast, roughly squeezing the soft flesh. "Good girl," he purrs, before diving back in, his mouth hot and wet on your aching nipple.

You moan, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you taste good," he growls against your skin, his hand moving to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations make you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself further into his touch.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the damp flesh. You whimper at the loss, your body craving more of his touch. "That's better," he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You know your place."

Aemond's hand moves from your hair to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless?"

Your heart races, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Aemond's hand tightens around your throat. The lack of oxygen only adds to the haze of lust clouding your mind. You nod frantically, your eyes wide and pleading.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's lips curve into a wicked grin against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Fuck, you're so desperate for it, aren't you?" he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

He grinds up against you, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your aching clit. The friction is delicious, but not nearly enough. You need more. You need him inside you, stretching you, filling you.

"Yes, fuck yes, I'm desperate for it," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me, Aemond. I love it when you use me."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Fuck, you're such a dirty little slut," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hair instead. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his teeth grazing your skin. "Gonna make you scream for me."

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. He yanks your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with lust, filled with the depravity to come.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for days," he promises, his hand moving from your hair to grip your throat again. He squeezes, cutting off your air supply just for a moment before releasing.

You gasp, your lungs burning for oxygen. But even then you still smile at him, biting your lip.

Aemond's eyes darken at the sight, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your ass hard enough to bruise. "A sight for sore eyes," he smirks, looking into your glossy eyes.

"Shit, I need to eat you out first," he groans, his jeans pressing down painfully on his throbbing cock.

He slides off the seat, kneeling between your legs as he slides your panties to the side impatiently. The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, making his cock throb with need. The cool air hits your aching cunt, making you shiver.

"Fuck, you smell incredible," he growls, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at your clit, making you cry out.

He groans at the taste of you, his tongue delving deeper, licking through your folds and fucking into your entrance. He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue moving in and out, his lips sucking on your clit.

His fingers delving between your folds. He brings them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth. "Taste how fucking desperate you are for me."

You open your mouth obediently, sucking his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your arousal explodes on your tongue, musky and sweet. You moan around his fingers, your tongue licking and sucking, cleaning them of your juices.

Aemond's eyes darken with lust as he watches you suck his fingers clean, your tongue swirling around the digits. He growls low in his throat, his free hand moving to grip your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this," he growls, his fingers popping out of your mouth.

He gets back up, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed.

He grabs your hair, forcing your head back and making you look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust, his jaw clenched as he battles for control.

"Strip," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. "I want you fucking naked, now."

You scramble to obey, yanking your bra off, your breasts bouncing free, nipples hard and aching for his touch. Your miniskirt and panties are next, puddled on the floor of the car, leaving you bare and exposed.

"Shit, you look so good," Aemond growls, his eyes raking over your naked form. "I almost don't even want to ruin you... almost"

He flips you on your hands and knees, pushing your head down, forcing your ass in the air, holes completely exposed to him. He yanks you forward, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Brace yourself, slut," he growls, grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy. "Gonna fucking wreck you." 

You crane your neck to look back at Aemond, a scoff leaving your lips. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mock, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes darken at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh, I'll take more than just a picture, baby," he promises, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack.

You gasp at the sting, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Promises, promises," you taunt, wiggling your ass invitingly. "You talk a big game, but I bet you can't even get it half hard."

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, you're so goddamn cocky," he snarls. "Gonna shut that smart mouth of yours."

You moan at the contact, your head falling forward as you push your ass back against him. "Big talk, dickhead," you pant, your voice breathy with need. "Let's see what you've got."

Aemond responds to your taunts with a sharp smack to your ass, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. "Fuck, you're asking for it," he growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time.

You gasp, your ass jiggling from the impact. "Shit, you're making a mess of me," you whine, wiggling your hips. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be filled.

"That's the idea, slut," Aemond grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks. He spreads them apart, exposing your tight holes to his hungry gaze. "Gonna fucking wreck this tight little ass."

His hands move to his zipper, slowly dragging it down. The sound of the metal seems obscenely loud in the confined space of the car.

He pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, the thick shaft springing up, hard and ready. The head is already slick with precum, the veins along the length pulsing with his heartbeat.

He spits in his palm, rubbing his saliva over his cock, giving it some lubrication. Then he's pressing the tip against your drooling hole, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he groans, pushing forward, the head of his cock breaching your hole. You cry out, the stretch intense, bordering on pain.

"Relax, slut," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass again. "Take that fucking cock like a good whore."

He starts to move, his hips rocking back and forth, inch by inch of his thick shaft sinking into your tight heat. Your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn't give you time.

He starts fucking you in earnest, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust. The car rocks with the force of his movements, the seat creaking beneath you.

"Fuck, you take it so well," he pants, his hand moving from your ass to grip your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you. "Gonna fucking ruin this tight ass."

You moan, your hands gripping the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather. The pain in your ass mixes with the pleasure, making your head spin.

"Harder," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his, desperate for more. "Fuck me harder, shit."

Your juices drip down your thighs, pooling on the leather seat below as Aemond pounds into you.

Your hands grip the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather as you brace yourself for the onslaught. Aemond's hands are everywhere - gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, tugging at your hair. He uses you like a rag doll, fucking you with an animalistic need.

Aemond grunts, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. "Fuck, you want it hard, slut?" he growls, his voice strained with effort. "Gonna fucking give it to you."

He pulls nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside your stretched hole. Then he slams back in, his hips connecting with your ass with a sharp smack. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you recklessly, the car swaying with his thrusts.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his face, his messy black hair sticking to his skin.

You can only moan, your mouth hanging open as you gasp for air. Your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, your nipples hard and aching for attention.

Aemond's hand moves from your hip to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging, sending sparks of pain through your body.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he groans, his hand moving to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You reach down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation makes you see stars, your back arching as you moan.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," Aemond pants. "Getting off on being used like a fucking toy."

"Shit, I'm close," you pant, your nails digging into the leather seat and your fingers moving on your clit. "Don't stop, fuck, don't stop," you moan, your hips bucking back against him, seeking more friction. His fingers rub your clit in tight circles, the pressure building with each stroke.

He pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch, your ass pushing back against him. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"That's it, take it all you little slut," he pants, his hand moving from your tit to your clit, replacing your hand, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," you whimper, your body tensing. "Please, Aemond, please."

"Do it," he commands, his fingers moving faster on your clit. "Come for me like the good little whore you are."

With a cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls rippling along his shaft.

Aemond groans, his hips stuttering as your orgasm milks his cock. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to spill?"

Your body convulses as the intense orgasm rips through you, your vision blurring and stars bursting behind your eyelids. "On my ass, fuck!" You cry out, the words torn from your throat. "Cum all over my ass!"

You arch your back, pushing your hips against Aemond's, desperate for more. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him.

You can feel his grip on your hips tighten, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the car, mixed with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

Aemond's cock throbs inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as your pussy milks him. He growls low in his throat, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

"Fuck, gonna paint your ass white," he pants, his hips slamming against your ass with bruising force.

He pulls out abruptly, his cock slipping from your clenching hole with a wet sound. You whimper at the loss, your pussy aching to be filled again.

Aemond's hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, the sting making you gasp. "Present yourself," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Wanna see you take my load like a good little whore."

You arch your back even more, spreading your thighs as far as you can in the limited space. Your spasming holes are on full display for his hungry gaze.

Aemond kneels behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking it with quick, rough motions. "Fuck, you're such a good little girl," he pants, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body. "Too bad you're such a filthy slut."

He starts to come, his cock jerking in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter across your ass and pussy. You moan, your fingers dipping between your folds to gather some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth.

"Fuck, look at you," Aemond groans, his hand still working his shaft, milking out every last drop. "Eating my cum like the dirty whore you are."

He collapses next to you on the seat, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him.

"You're fucking perfect," he growls, his eyes intense as they bore into yours. "Mine."

"Mhm," you hum, collapsing onto Aemond's chest, your body spent and sated. The car reeks of sex and sweat, your combined releases staining the seats. It's filthy and sinful, turning you on.

Aemond's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he strokes your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, a mix of cologne and sex.

"That was intense," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "You really know how to fuck a girl stupid."

Aemond chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Fucking right I do," he boasts, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a damn good lay, too. Always so fucking eager for my cock."

He tugs on your hair, forcing your head back to look at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and possessiveness. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "This tight little body belongs to me."

"Such a good girl," he praises, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "Gonna keep you."

You smile against his fingers, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Keep me for what?" you tease. "You're not my man. I'm not your's to keep," you whisper, feeling an ache in your heart for some reason.

Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on your chin tightening as he yanks your face closer to his.

His grip on your chin tightened. "The fuck I'm not," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I've had you more times than I can count. I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make when I'm buried inside you."

He shifts, his face mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. "You're mine, whether you admit it or not."

His other hand slides down your body, fingers dipping between your thighs to gather the cum leaking from your abused hole. He brings it to your lips, smearing it across them.

"Look at you, so fucking dirty, so desperate for my cum. You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you know you belong to me."

He crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

When he pulls back, you're panting, your lips swollen and tingling. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else, something you're not quite ready to name.You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.

"I don't belong to anyone," you whisper, but there's no conviction in your voice. "We're just fucking, Aemond. Don't make it more than it is."

Aemond's eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his face before it's quickly replaced with a predatory smirk. "Just fucking?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you think this is?"

He sits up, pulling you with him so you're straddling his lap. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place.

"We've been doing this for months, baby," he reminds you, his voice rough. "You think I don't know the difference between a quick fuck and what we have?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make, every way you tremble and writhe when I'm inside you."

"Stop fighting it," he growls, his eyes boring into yours. "You might tell your friends that this means nothing to you, that you think I'm some creepy guy you fuck. Yet you still keep coming back.."

Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a shiver down your spine. How does he know? You've never told him those things. You shake your head, a strand of hair falling across your face. "No, I've never said that," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I swear."

You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, searching for any sign of deceit. "I wouldn't say those things about you," you insist. "I don't think you're weird."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his grip on your hips tightening until it almost hurts. "Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I know you talk shit about me to your friends. I know you think I'm some kind of freak."

He leans in, his breath hot against your cheek. "But you keep coming back, don't you? You keep spreading your legs for me, begging me to fuck you like the desperate little slut you are."

His hand moves from your hip to your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "You can't resist me, can you? No matter how much you try to pretend, your body knows who it belongs to."

He squeezes your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race. "I've heard you, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've heard you call me a freak, a deviant. But you still come back, letting me use your tight little body for my pleasure."

Your cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment as Aemond's words sink in. You try to pull away from his grip, your naked bodies still intertwined, but his hold is too strong. "Yes, fine. I have said those things about you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

You search his eyes, trying to find the right words. "Aemond, you fight people. You're dangerous." You say it with a seriousness that misrepresents the thrill that runs through you at the very thought. It's the danger that makes him so appealing.

You sigh, your fingers caressing his face, tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "Must you have such an effect on me?" You mutter, before leaning in to kiss him.

Aemond's lips meet yours in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a fierce intensity. His grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and stinging from the force of his kiss.

"You fuckin' love it," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You love the danger, the thrill of being with a man who can break you."

"Admit it," he presses, his voice low and dangerous. "You get off on the fact that I could snap anyone's fucking neck with one hand."

Aemond's grip on your throat loosens, his thumb stroking your pulse point in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"Would you ever hurt me?" You whisper, your breath hot on his lips, your faces mere inches apart. A flicker of fear in your eyes, but it's quickly overshadowed by the desire burning within you. You search his gaze, looking for any sign of malice, any hint of danger. But all you see is raw, primal hunger.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. He's so close. It's intoxicating and terrifying at once. You have seen him fight, seen the way he's hurt others with minimal effort. He could break you, shatter you into a million pieces if he wanted to.

Aemond's eyes soften for a moment, a rare vulnerability flickering in their depths. "You think I'd hurt you?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Baby, I'd die before I let anyone lay a finger on you."

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine," he growls, his voice fierce with possessiveness. "And I protect what's mine."

His hand slides from your throat to your cheek, cupping your face gently. "I may be aggressive, but I'm not a pig," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I'd never hurt you, not like that."

"But make no mistake," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to take you from me."

You bite his thumb lightly as he speaks, his possessive demeanour sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Anyone who would hurt me?" You purr, leaning into his touch like a small lamb. His words ignite a fire deep within you, a primal desire to be owned, claimed, and protected.

You know you shouldn't give in to this, but you can't help yourself. The way he looks at you like you are the only woman in the world, it's intoxicating.

Aemond growls low in his throat, his eyes darkening with lust at the feel of your teeth on his skin. "That's right, baby," he purrs, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. "You're mine, and I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

Your breath hitches in your throat at Aemond's words, his dangerous claims sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze, your eyes are wide and full of devotion, a vulnerability you rarely show to anyone.

He tugs you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "I'll protect you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll cherish you. I'll fucking worship you."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "Body and soul."

Aemond's eyes flash with fierce triumph at your words, a primal look of satisfaction spreading across his face. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growls, tugging you closer and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

"Get dressed, pretty girl. I'm taking you to my place," he demands, leaving no room for argument.

Aemond's eyes blaze with desire as he watches you scramble to put on your clothes, your naked body still slick with his cum. He licks his lips, his cock already hardening again at the sight of you.

He helps you to the passenger seat, smirking. "Hope you don't mind a messy ride."

[enhaeil]

SOON AS I GET HOME! ☆ 박종성

"soon as I get home, I'll make it up to you. baby, i'll do what i gotta do."

soon as i get home - faith evans.

c/w: suggestive!! yet extremely soft. husband jay...wow i love jay

you had a good man. an amazing man even. the best man a woman could ask for. and you've been neglecting him.

when he tries to hug you, it only lasts for a second before you push him away. when he tries to give you a kiss, you barely reciprocate back. when he tries to initiate sex, you brush him off, telling him you're "too tired" to be touched. it's noticeably put a bit of a strain on your marriage, and you feel guilty.

you decide it's time to ignite the fire in your marriage again. remind jay why he married you in the first place. since he's always busy with work and so are you, you decided you would call off work the next day and spend it planning something special.

you hop out the tub and wrap a towel around you before starting your hair and makeup. you decided to wear it down because you remembered how much jay liked it. for makeup, you go with a natural glam with some red eyeshadow.

—

you slip into the lingerie and dress you bought, buckle up your heels, and check yourself out in the mirror one more time. "yup. i still got it." you say to yourself before you head downstairs.

the time is currently 6:30. jay is already off work and is probably on his way back. you use this time to set the food up and pour up some wine. you also lay out some chocolates and light some scented candles. and of course, you had some old school jams playing in the back. lord, if he didn't put a baby in you tonight, it'd be a pretty close call.

as time gets closer, you decide to hide behind the wall so when he walks in, you can suprise him.

around 7:02, you hear some keys jingle and the door opening.

"baby, i'm home. i got some take-out if you're hungry. baby..?"

you can't help but feel your heart swell at your husbands voice. even through your dry spell, he's so sweet. you take this as an opportunity to step out.

"hi jjongie.."

his mouth opens so wide you're scared a moth might fly out of it.

"do you like it..?" he gave you a look as if you just asked the silliest question on earth.

"baby. like it? 'like it' would be disrespectful. you look amazing, y/n."

you giggle and help him take off his work jacket, giving his shoulders a soft massage, feeling the tenseness from his shift today. his head tips back with a sigh. "did i forget something today, love?" he says, trying to scan his mind for any event that could've happened.

you grab his hand and drag him into the kitchen where all the food is prepared. "you're my husband. and I've been neglecting you. so i wanted to show my appreciation for all you do." you say pulling out a chair for him.

"baby...you don't neglect me. we've both been busy with work." he says still holding on to your hand.

"still. when's the last time we had sex, jay?"

"a few days ago, right?" he says trying to see where you're going with this.

"exactly! remember? when used to go at it like animals? one day out of the week would've scared us a few years ago." you say with a small giggle. "now eat up. i dont want the food to get cold!"

you guys spend some time talking about your week and enjoying the meal you made. it felt so nice to have this moment with your husband. you guys rarely ever got to eat real meals together.

"wow, y/n. you really went all out." he says finishing his last bite.

"there's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry again." you say getting ready to put the dishes in the sink.

he stands up, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "how could i ever repay you?"

you turn around and give him a look. "jay. you have been the most perfect man since the day i met you. i can't remember the last time i touched a door or a bill since our first date. you've done more than enough." you say pressing a peck on the corner of his mouth.

you dry off your hands before you turn back to him. "now, I have one more surprise for you upstairs. come on~" you say excitedly before dragging him up the stairs.

you finally make it to your bedroom and point his attention towards the bag in the middle of the bed. in it was a new cologne, a new tie and jewelry. as he opens the bag you dash into the bathroom to take off that tight dress and reveal what was underneath.

"baby, you didn't have to get me any of this. i'm so grateful, thank you. god, this is so cool." he says, examining his new items.

you finally step out the bathroom, heels still clicking as you call out his name.

he brings his attention up and his mouth is left open for the second time that night.

has he seen your body in ways you wouldn't even think was possible? yes. but everytime he did it felt like the first time.

you slowly make your way towards him before he reaches out his hands to touch you as if you'd dissappear right in front him.

"wow, i married a goddess. even years later you still make me feel like a teenage boy."

your eyes begin to water at his words and his touches, feeling like it's been an eternity since you've been touched like this. your hands begin to roam his body too, feeling underneath his shirt and caressing his stomach, your fingertips grazing the roughness of his happy trail.

"i love you jay. and i'll do whatever i can to make up for time we might've lost." you say leading him towards the bed so you can straddle him.

"we've grown a lot since we started dating, y/n. it's okay if sometimes we are too busy to do things with eachother. but even if we go months without touching eachother, i promise i'll always love you the same way I did back then."

and with that, he pulls you into a kiss, which leads into a night full of passionate lovemaking.

a/n: im foaming at the mouth.

[bunny-jpeg]

burnin' tire

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, masturbation, fantasies, mad!max, post-dutch gp, mechanic!reader

love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own!!

second.

second was first place for losers. that was what he had been told his entire life. second, seconde, secondo, however he could slice it, it still looked bad. so when he stomped back into the paddock with fire in his heart and a storm cloud over his head, the mechanics scattered.

they even went as far as to push you, their newest addition in front of max so they could get a head start away from mad max.

he looked down at you, something in his gaze left you a little shaky at the knees. this was your first race with the team, and you couldn't secure a win for max. it was almost embarrassing.

"i'm sorry, mister verstappen!" you pouted, "i'm really sorry! we tried to move as fast as possible, but i guess we couldn't keep up to mclaren." you worried about your job! you had just started, you were far from home and this was your dream to work for, "i'm so sorry!"

you almost had tears in your eyes, which deflated the anger from max's stance. he dropped his arms and looked at you. he replied, "there's nothing to be sorry about, it happens." as if he hadn't been on a losing streak for some time now.

your bottom lip quivered and your eyes grew watery, "this was your home race. and i'm just so sorry! i just wanted to do good, i wanted you to win!" a few tears fell and max was dumbfounded.

he was used to tearing into the mechanics and the engineers. he was used to snapping his words and letting rage consume him. instead he reached out for you, "hey, it's okay! don't cry. it's alright.'" he even wiped your tears away as your lip wobbled.

you got into his arms and gave him a bit hug. you looked at him and said, "i promise we'll win the next one! i promise!" even in those baggy coveralls you looked cute. if not beautiful.

max felt the anger disappear in his gut and he smiled at you, almost warm, "yes... yes we will." and when he patted you on the head and turned away and out of the paddock.

the other mechanics were in as much shock as you were. and while max would've loved to continue holding you, even reassuring you about the race in monza the following week. max was painfully hard from your brief interaction. it was like all the anger went to his cock and he needed to get out of there before he caused a scene.

back in the red bull motor home, max thought he was going to burst a blood vessel in his head. it was a pain to get into his jeans after he got out of his racing clothes. everything felt like a live wire, to go without masturbating for that long felt painful. especially when the source of his erection was playing in his read.

you smell like motor oil and warm vanilla, your touch was soft when you hugged him and that pretty face. even with the smear of grease on your face and the red bull cap on your head.

"mister verstappen." your voice rang in his head and he didn't even make it to the bed before his cock was in his hand. his palm covered in his spit as he sat on the couch and stroked himself still clothed.

he knew that the team had hired a new mechanic, but to see you in action made his brain feel almost rotten from the lust he felt. he barely paid attention to who was working on the car during the race but he knew you weren't working alone. and yet, you still carried all the responsibility for the team on your shoulders.

you poor thing. he continued to stroke his cock and he panted heavily at the feeling. thoughts of you were in his head as he pleasured himself. he wished you were there to do it for him. even if you wore you coveralls and covered in grease, if you were on your knees in front of him, your mouth on his cock as you pleasured him.

he wondered if you had even done that before. if you had any partners, or even one at the moment. he tried not to let the jealousy curl in his gut. he wasn't even sure, but he wouldn't have been surprised. you were beautiful, and who didn't love a gentle soul. you wanted max to win and max in turn felt towards you that he felt towards no other mechanic. he wanted you to work on his car, but also taking you out to dinner. to show you the finer things in life.

he wondered what colour panties you wore, and what cut. he knew you weren't wearing a thong, no when you were lifting heavy tires all day. he imagined something red, maybe a boy short. something that moved with the curves of your hips and thighs. he thought excited him, it really turned him on. made his face as red as he hoped that your panties would be.

how they'd curve to your ass, when you ran around the pit stop. how you would lift tools around. the strength to you. max liked models, but there was something about you the captivated him. and you didn't even know. you were just a humble mechanic, and you drove max wild.

he continued to stroke his cock heavily. he panted heavily as he felt his dark t-shirt cling to his back. his pace was quick up against his cock, he even spat on his hand once more to just to get the right friction. it was a head rush. he was not immune to masturbation, max did it almost daily if he had the time.

but to picture you in your bra and panties made him excited. hungry like a dog as he fucked his hand. he wished it was your pussy. he wished that he could bully the tip of his cock against you. he wished he could bend you in half and fuck you with a vigor that there were no other words for.

he wondered if you were loud, if he'd have to silence you with your panties. if he's have to cover your mouth or gag you, or would you just burst into tears like you did in the garage. the wet eyes,staring at him, promising that you'd do better next time. it made max want to fuck you even more. he wanted you every way he could have you.

"shit." he groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke his cock. he could feel his heart beat in his ears as he continued to masturbate. you were just a little thing, even with your skills as a mechanic, you were still so small. max felt he need to protect you.

he wanted to make sure you needed for nothing. he wondered if you'd have him as your lover. as your partner. the thought made him shudder as he continued to stroke his cock. he felt the head rush it all, he panted heavily as he stroked his cock.

his pace continued and he let himself get lost in the feeling. when it got overwhelming, he finished all over himself. your words rang in his mind, the promises you made. next time will be better. he'd win next time! and as cum dribbled all over his hand, he panted heavily with the head rush. he panted heavily and felt a shudder through climax. he wondered if you were touching yourself tonight, which made his cock twitch in his hand.

he was covered in cum at the waist and he felt hot all over. he rubbed his face with his free hand and for a moment felt in the post-orgasm shame. but it didn't last long.

with the after shivers of euphoria, he knew he had to do something. he couldn't be jerking off in private anytime he saw you. max was a man of action so after he cleaned himself off, he texted horner,

"i was wondering if i could properly meet with our new mechanic, show her the ropes. i think things will be promising with her." he tried to sound as professional as possible, but as thoughts of your watery eyes filled his mind. he knew he'd have to get himself off again soon. <3

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ chris is obsessed with the bulge in your throat when sucking him off

you lay on the edge of chris’ bed, your head tilted back just enough to nearly dangle off, while he stood above you, his tip grazing the soft curve of your lips.

he looked down at you with a grin, his eyes darkened with desire and intensity that sent a shiver through you, every glance seeming to drink in the sight of you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

he shifted his stance slightly, his movements deliberate as he sought a better angle. his breath hitched for a moment before a low, husky groan escaped his lips. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice heavy with list as his gaze locked onto you.

“look at how perfectly those lips wrap around me…” his words trailed off, his eyes darkening further as he watched your tongue flick out, teasing him with a slow, deliberate taste that made his grip on your boobs tighten slightly.

you parted your lips slowly, inviting chris to slide his length past them, the warmth and softness drawing a low groan from him as he pushed forward.

a satisfied hum escaped you, vibrating against him as you adjusted to the length and feel of him, your lashes fluttering shut while your hands gripped the sheets beneath you. each inch felt deliberate, his movements slow and controlled, as if savouring the sight of your mouth taking him in.

his fingers slid into your hair; tangling gently as he guided your movements with a firm yet unhurried touch, letting you set the pace while he watched. each subtle pull and shift of his hand was deliberate, steering without forcing, as his gaze fixated on the way his cock disappeared between your lips.

the sight alone was enough for small noises to pass his lips, but what had him completely undone was the sight of the bulge forming in your throat as you took him in so deeply.

his free hand moved down, trailing over the curve of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly to feel himself beneath the skin. the sensation made his head fall back for a moment, a guttural groan escaping his lips before he looked down at you again.

“fuck,” he rasped, his voice low and full of raw hunger, “look at you…so perfect, taking me like that.” his thumb stroked gently over the bulge as he bit his lip, savouring every second of the sight before him.

one of your hands trailed down your body, trembling slightly as you found your way to the heat between your thighs. pressing over your baby pink thong, you began rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit, the thin fabric doing little to muffle the growing ache.

a soft, needy moan slipped from your lips, vibrating around chris in a way that made his head snap back, a sharp hiss breaking from his mouth. his grip in your hair tightened, not rough but enough to hold your attention as his gaze flicked down to where your hands worked against yourself.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained and full of awe, “you’re so good…so fucking good.” his free hand slid down your cheek, brushing over your jaw as he smirked, his hips stuttering slightly from the sensations you were giving him. “keep going,” he urged, his tone dripping with want. “i’m so close, ma.”

chris’ hips began to move faster, each thrust more urgent as his need to release overtook him. the rhythm was relentless, and you felt the intensity building with every movement. your eyes squeezed shut, tears prickling at the corners as your throat worked around him, earning a guttural groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

"fuck, baby... look at that," he rasped, his voice thick with awe and desperation. his hands moved from your hair, sliding beneath your neck to cradle it, his thumbs brushing tenderly over the bulge that formed in your throat each time he pushed deeper. the mix of his rough desire and gentle touch made your head spin, and the way his eyes darkened as he watched you rub over your clothed pussy.

“fuck, fuck, fuck," chris chanted, his voice breaking as his head fell back, every muscle in his body tightening as he teetered on the edge. his grip on your neck faltered for a moment, his fingers flexing as his hips bucked forward.

"i'm gonna come, baby," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as a sharp hiss escaped his lips, the sound raw and desperate.

with a final thrust, his release hit, thick, hot ropes of cum spilling into your mouth. his body trembled above you, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he struggled to catch his breath.

"shit, baby," he panted, opening his eyes as he slipped out your mouth, his chest heaving as he smirked. "you're fucking perfect." his thumb brushed against your swollen lips, his gaze locked on you as you swallowed every drop, sending another shiver through him.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I worry sometimes about the beautiful fantasy that certain conservative stay at home moms are selling on places like tiktok and Instagram. A lot of them are acting like stay at home moms should never work or do finances or something and that’s just not right.

Both of my grandmothers were stay at home moms but neither of my grandfathers forced them into it. My dad’s mom helped run the family construction business and did some freelance architecture design on the side and my mom’s mom just hated working and worked part time as a teller on and off during times they needed more money. And both of my grandfathers knew how to cook. They didn’t cook most of the time but sometimes the wife is sick or off visiting her parents so you’ve gotta know how to whip up some corn chowder or something for the kids after work.

A lot of “stay at home spouses” or “homemakers” work actually. Including those trad wife influencers or even occasional house husband influencers you see on Instagram and tiktok. Their job ironically enough is being a homemaker influencer. The second that person turns on a camera for money they’re no longer solely working as a homemaker.

The idea that there’s some perfect life you can live where all you do is clean and cook and have perfect little babies is a fantasy. Parenthood involves vomit. Relationships involve disagreements. Most households necessitate having two incomes at some point, especially if your main source of income is a business. Businesses are inconsistent sources of money. Freelance work is an inconsistent source of money. It’s also important to have your own means of financial support in case your spouse decides to stop being a good person someday. It might not happen to you but there’s also no guarantee that it won’t. And a decent person won’t feel threatened by you wanting to have your own means of income because if they’re a good person then generally they shouldn’t have to financially trap you in order to get you to stay with them.

Thankfully neither of my grandfathers turned out to be total pieces of shit but in case they did one of my grandmothers had her investments and architecture and drafting skills to fall back on and the other had years of experience as a bank teller that could’ve gotten her a full time job in most places. And both of these women ended up raising daughters that grew up to have careers.

My mother was also a part time teacher that spent a good amount of her time raising my brother and I when she was alive. But she had her own money and could have left at any time if she needed to and when she died my dad still had all the skills needed to raise us and teach my brother and I how to do basic household tasks.

If your life’s dream is to be a stay at home parent I’m not going to tell you that’s a stupid dream. What I am going to tell you is a) it’s not glamorous and stress-free and you should not expect it to be like that, b) have an escape plan just in case and fully understand what you’re getting into financially, and c) pick someone as your partner who knows how to do basic household tasks even if they won’t be doing them most of the time because you will get sick, you will get tired, you will visit your friends or family and you want someone who can get your kids dressed and cook them dinner in the event that you can’t.

[crazy-pages]

Hey, just to make this clear, first of all yes it is absolutely possible to love bomb somebody without consciously recognizing that is what you are doing. Second of all it is associated with cluster B personality disorders because it is associated with cluster B personality disorders (specifically narcissistic and borderline personality disorder). When somebody has a personality disorder which is correctly diagnosed, it means they behave in a way which meets certain criteria for behavior and self-described thought processes, for psychological reasons associated with learned/induced behaviors as opposed to innate psychiatric difference. Doing things like love bombing is literally part of the diagnostic criteria for these disorders.

These tend to be oriented around common behavioral traits and thought patterns whicy amplified to such a degree that they form a qualitatively distinct behavioral pattern than you see in the general population. And specifically, for these to be personality disorders as opposed to simply atypical behavioral patterns, they must be harmful to the individual, those around them, or both. Cluster B is specifically characterized by harm to those around the person with the personality disorder.

For example, love bombing. The desire to put one's best foot forward in the early stages of a relationship, or overcompensating for the fear of not being deemed good enough by a prospective partner, is common and natural. Not necessarily healthy, but common. Love bombing in cluster B personality disorders represents an escalation of this behavior to such a degree but it must be understood differently.

And it is particularly associated with narcissistic personality disorder (see this dissertation), and also the impulsive and discourage subtypes of borderline personality disorder. There are janky bullshit articles out there about this, but this research ain't part of that.

Love Bombing primarily occurs in the initial phases of many narcissistic relationships and is characteristic of premature, highly concentrated compliments, attention, and gifts indicating interest and love (Perrotta, 2020). This is a strategy that will draw people in quickly and provide prospective partners with a carefully curated set of romantic gestures designed to present a highly attractive image to the specific person they are wooing (Back et al., 2013) and they may seem exceptionally responsive.

According to Lawler’s affect theory of social exchange (2001), when there is an accuracy and intensity to fulfilling the emotional states in a dyad by a partner, this can serve to create stronger attachment to that partner or to the foundation of the relationship, which is also what later can buoy the strength of the trauma bond. As was seen in PNT [partner of individual with narcissistic traits] narratives, love bombing tends to decrease dramatically once the PNT has become enmeshed within the relationship, and more negative INT [individual with narcissistic traits] behaviors emerge (Perrotta, 2020).

It's extremely rare for someone to be love bombing in a deliberately Machiavellian way where they are perching their fingers and saying "hohohoho, once I have finished love bombing them they will find it that much harder to leave me when I start abusing them". What's far more common is for people to find out by trial and error that it works, to learn by example that it works from others in their life, to do so reflexively out of a fear of not having control over whether they are reciprocally loved, or because they feel it entitles them to reciprocal treatment. Or any combination of the above or more.

And approaching relationships in this way, anywhere on the spectrum from unintentionally approaching relationships in an unhealthy way, to accidentally harming others, to maliciously using it as an abuse tactic, are all common ways that love bombing presents itself as a behavior in many people with narcissistic and borderline personality disorder. Again, the diagnostic criteria of these disorders literally includes this as an indicator.

This doesn't mean there aren't problems with the field of psychology and these disorders by any means. Antisocial personality disorder in particular has gaping holes in the methodology in the history of its criteria that you could fly a plane through. Histrionic personality disorder is falling out of favor because it's just not characterized by terribly distinct behavioral patterns and there's a push to get it relegated to particular extremes of personality indices instead. And borderline personality disorder specifically has a really terrible history of being wielded as a weapon against women in relationships with abusive men, because emotional swings and outbursts are very common (and reasonable!!!) when getting out of an abusive relationship, and when combined with common patterns of lies that abusers tell about their partners that can often be misdiagnosed as borderline personality disorder.

And yes, there is also a particularly bad history with discrediting experiences of people with borderline personality disorder, especially women, you're never going to find me going to bat for psychology as a flawless institution because it fucking ain't.

But NPD and BPD literally have love bombing as one of the suggestive diagnostic signifiers, for a reason. This one ain't bullshit, this one is well established by the research. Also, these are not lifelong diagnoses, they can be managed, treated, or moved past. That's admittedly very rare for narcissistic personality disorder but it does happen with less severe examples, and it is not uncommon for borderline personality disorder.

There is a long ass gap between "don't automatically tar people with cluster B disorders as inhuman monsters" (reasonable) and denying one of the diagnostic indicators of NPD and BPD is associated with cluster B (unhinged).

Love bombing is not a euphemism for "too much affection too soon," or "high desire for contact."

"Love bombing" is a term originally used in the context of cults to describe a deliberate and coordinated recruitment method that involved feigning friendship and interest in a potential recruit, via flattery, flirtation, physical affection, and very directed positive attention to everything the recruit says in order to lure them into the cult.

Since cults and abusive relationships operate in similar ways and use similar tactics, love bombing in an interpersonal relationship looks like manufacturing closeness in order to trap someone into a relationship in which the abuser has all the control.

And I know these days there's a million bullshit junky articles out there that make you think this is a symptom of cluster b personality disorders, but there is no way for you to be love bombing somebody without realizing it.

If you are an affectionate person and the level of affection and attention you give makes someone uncomfortable, you are not "accidentally" abusing them.

If you are uncomfortable with the level of affection and attention someone is paying you, they are not de facto abusing you.

Love bombing is about using someone's desire for human connection to fast track them into a situation you control that they will feel disinclined to leave.

[bonbonly]

bon's thoughts (18+) a/n: just realized i havent written for maxie in a while!

sugardaddy!max verstappen sits next to you, across from the professor of your class . your parents are out in another country so they cannot make it. you had been caught cheating (again) and your professor had let it slide the first time because max insisted on giving him some money to excuse your stupidity. but the second time, it seemed that nothing could budge your professor. max glances over to you, seeing the way your arms are crossed and you're dazing off to the distance without a care in the world.

the professor is willing to excuse you again as long as max doubles the amount of money he paid last time, and max's jaw drops. he clenches his fists before nodding his head, "fine... fine, i'll pay again." and he hates the way you're smiling.

when you get back to his house, he carries you to the bedroom and flips you onto his lap, smacking your ass as you cry out, "what'd i do?"

"what did you do? you waste my money like this! all i ask of you is to just get a decent grade, but you're just so lazy you won't put any work!" he continues to lay blows on your ass, watching the way it reddens with each smack. when he's deemed it's enough, he tosses you onto the bed and yanks your clothes off of you. he laughs in your face, "fuck? already wet? such a slut for me aren't you?"

he spits on your cunt, letting his cock run along your folds before pushing into you in one thrust. he grips your waist and begins to set a brutal pace, loving the way you're already arching your back and screaming as he continues, "i should just never let you go to college. not like you're doing anything useful there anyway. you should be my personal cum dump, that's all you're good for, fuck!" he groans out loud, rubbing your clit as your pussy clenches at his words. "getting wetter at my words? why am i not surprised, schat? you're such a whore, i don't expect anything less from you."

you whine out loud when he pulls out of you to paint your tits with his cum, "you pass a test without cheating and then i'll let you cum. for fuck's sake, acting like i'm going to reward you after the shit you do." he rolls his eyes, grabbing his clothes and walking out of the room.

he's more than happy to have his girl ride his cock once you get a good grade on the next test, and he doesn't stop letting you cum. again, and again and again. "you asked for this," he laughs, watching you squirm, trying to get off of him but he slams your hips right back down onto his cock, "come on schatje, i thought you wanted this? i need to reward my girl, she actually decided to do good on her test for once!"

the entire night is filled with your screams and his cum stuffing you full.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[mead-iocre]

FIFA | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you play FIFA

warnings: none. just fluff x

wc: 1.7k words

The late afternoon light filtered through the sheer linen curtains, casting a warm golden glow across the living room. You sat curled up on the couch, legs draped over Leah’s lap, idly scrolling through your phone. The rhythmic clicking of the Xbox controller’s buttons was the only sound filling the room, a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the outside world.

All of a sudden, the clicking of the controller stopped. Leah nudged your leg, palm wrapping around one thigh and squeezing. “Hey, baby” she said, her voice light with a hint of something else. “Wanna do something fun?”

You look away from your phone, arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow. Leah took a moment to admire you, dressed in your favourite Izaak Azanei pink shearling cuff button cardigan with the matching leggings. Leave it to you to be overdressed, even in the comfort of your own home. 

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, letting her phone drop onto the sofa beside her. You were intrigued now.

“I was thinking…FIFA,” The blonde said with a shrug, pushing her hair back as it falls over eyes. Her bangs haven't grown out just yet.

You blink up at her, slightly caught off guard. You had never shown the slightest interest in football or video games. You could barely remember the rules, let alone the offside rule.

But one thing about you, you were just as competitive as your professional footballer girlfriend– if not even more.

“FIFA...?” you ponder over it for a moment. You were never one to back down from a challenge-- even football. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Let’s play.”

The big smile that took over Leah’s face could’ve blinded a man.

She squeezed the leg that was still draped over her lap, and grabbed the second controller that was conveniently left on the coffee table. She hands it to you, grinning when your hands awkwardly fumble around with the buttons. 

Her competitive girl.

Rosy tinted lips settled into a pout, sweet wrinkles form across the middle of your forehead as you study the device in your hands. “Lee–” A huff leaves your lips. “…how does this even work?”

Leah chuckled softly, leaning in to adjust your grip. Her fingers brushed skin. “Okay, first things first. You use the left stick to move your player,” Leah said, her voice gentle but firm. “Try it. Push it to the left.”

Your brows furrowed, lips curling in confusion as you nudged the left stick to the side. On screen, the character shuffled a few steps, the motion awkward and unsure, much like you when you went to your first couple of football matches. “I’m– uh, not sure if I’m doing it right,” 

Leah’s lips quirked into a soft smile as she leaned a little closer, unable to stop herself from touching you somehow. She lets go of one side of the controller and instead drapes it over your shoulder, fingers rubbing the little bit of exposed skin by her hip. “That’s good. You’re doing great, baby. Here, let me show ya.” Leah gently took your hand, guiding your fingers to the controller so you were holding it more comfortably.

“Like this,” Leah murmured, moving the stick smoothly, making the player glide across the pitch. “See? Just a gentle nudge.”

You watched, captivated not by the moving avatar on the screen who looks eerily similar to Viv, but by the blonde shuffling closer beside you. After a year of dating, you should be used to this, but you weren't. Your heart still squeezed when you look at her.

It's almost ike when your Hermes sales associate pulled out your new Hermes Birkin 30 in Mauve Sylvestre Bag with Epsom Palladium Hardware.

Almost.

“Okay, I think I got it.” You pushed the stick forward a little more confidently this time. Your player jogged across the pitch—clumsy, but moving.

“There you go, baby” Leah praised, her eyes on you, soft with affection. “Now, let’s pass the ball.” She pointed to the ‘A’ button on the controller. “Press this to pass it. Lightly, okay?”

You pressed the button, and the ball rolled a few feet—straight to the opposing team.

Leah laughed in pure, utmost affection. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of her neck and the way her soft tendrils of her hair brushed against her cheek as her eyes met yours again. They were like crescent moons and you love the way her cheeks flush slightly the more she laughs.

One hand slides in between your knees, affectionately squeezing your inner thigh. “Okay, that was... a bit too light. But you’re getting there, baby”

You bite your lip, shy now, tasting your favourite Summer Fridays lipgloss. “I swear I’m trying,” you pout but nevertheless straightening your back to lock back in. “This is harder than it looks.”

The blonde just smiles a secret smile. The scent dewy sweetness of pink peony and fresh lily of the valley mingling with the soft, delicate rosy smell of your hair. You feel her press a kiss against the crown of your head, her lips moving against your hair as her jokes “It’s okay, baby. Sometimes I pass it to the opposing team too”

Too soon.

You recall the last game where Leah accidentally kicked the ball to an opposing player and nearly assisted an equaliser. Luckily, the goal was saved.

You gasp playfully, looking up at her only to be met with her pretty blues. The skin around the corner of her eyes crinkle as she laughs with you. Leah’s ability to not take herself so seriously is one of your favourite things about her. 

Turning back to the screen, you tighten your hands around the controller. “I think I might be terrible at this.”

“You’re not terrible,” Leah insists. “You’re learning. And that’s what matters.”

After a few more attempts, you finally managed to pass the ball with some semblance of control, sending it to your own teammate. “Look, I did it!” you bellow, your voice filled with genuine pride. Stacks of Tiffany and Van Cleef bracelets jingle and jangle as you pump a fist in the air. 

It was like when you scored your rare Dior Metallic Lambskin and Rose des Vents Satin bag– but without having to swipe a card.

You press the right buttons, watching as your avatar on screen kicks the ball up the pitch. “That’s what I’m talking about! What a pass, baby!” Leah turns to you, throwing her arms in the air, before leaning in to give you a sweet kiss. When she pulls away, a shiny sheen of your lipgloss is left on her own lips.

She doesn’t wipe it off. 

You grinned at her, fully locked in now. You rolled up your pink shearling cuff sleeves up your arms, because this was serious now. “Okay, now let’s see if I can actually score a goal.”

“Woah– okay, Messi. Lets see how you get dribbling first”

Reaching into the pocket of your pink joggers, you pull out your Summer Friday lipgloss, swiping it over your lips a few times. Leah just watches you with a small smile, your lip gloss still lingering on her bottom lip. You twist the lipgloss lid closed, pressing your lips together. “I can do this. Watch me.”

The Arsenal defender took that as her queue to sit back and observe as you focused back on the screen. The intensity in your gaze was almost palpable, and for a moment, Leah found herself mesmerised not by the game on the screen, but by you.

You pressed the ‘B’ button with a confident flick of your thumb, and watched as the ball sailed through the air—past the defenders, past the keeper—and into the net.

You gasped as the words– GOAL!– flashes on screen, eyes widening in disbelief. “Did I- did I just score?”

Leah was stunning. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to make sense of what her girlfriend just did. “You... you did,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, awestruck. “You scored, baby. What a bloody good goal.”

Turning to her you gasp wide, sparkling eyes, lips parting in shock. Your curls bounce as you turn back to screen– wanting to make sure it was real– and then back to your girlfriend. “I... I really did? Oh my god--”

You squeal, jumping up from the sofa and clapping your hands. A breathless laugh escapes your lips as you twirl around in pure, unfiltered joy. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks flushed rosy with the thrill of victory, raising your arms raised in mock triumph. “I’m a footballer!” 

“Okay- okay don’t come for my job just yet” Leah reaches over, gently snagging your wrist and pulling you into her arms. You melt into her willingly, the controller slipping from your grasp as you both collapse into a tangle of laughter and affection, bodies close. The victory feels sweeter, somehow, in the warmth of her embrace.

“Told ya you could do it” Leah murmurs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

You laughed, burying your face into her chest, the familiar smell of her hoodie washing over you. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not completely terrible at it.”

“I think you’re more than just ‘not terrible.’” Leah snuggles you closer to her, a hand sneakily creeping underneath your top. When did that happen, you have no idea. Unable to help it, you shiver slightly at the feel of her nails dancing across your back.

And of course she notices.

Her voice is low, teasing. “You’re kind of a pro, actually”

"Alexia Putellas better watch out" You say, haughtily. Your taunt is rewarded with her raspy laugh. She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss on the spot where you neck meets your collarbone. "I'm coming for that Ballon Dior"

“Ballon D’or, baby– not Dior”

You look at her, the love of your life. Her pretty blue eyes, bright as they stare at you. She's got a small smile, head tilted slightly as her eyes roam your face. You blush at the intensity of her gaze, still not familiar to the privilege of getting to look at her every single day.

Leah pulls you to her so you're laying over her chest. You snuggle closer, bringing your knees up, and making yourself comfortable. "You should get one.."

An eyebrow raise. She presses her lips together, holding in a laugh. "Wha-- a Ballon D'or? Bit hard to do as a defender, love"

"No," You roll your eyes, petulantly. You shake your head. The soft swish of your hair moves, a playful flutter through your locks thanks to your freshly blow-out. "a Dior"

Leah laughs. The kind of laugh where she throws her head back, crinkles form by the corner of her eyes, and her entire body contorts, uninhibited, because of you. It’s the curve of her neck, the subtle arch of their brow, the way her breath catches just before another laugh bursts free.

"C'mere" Her hand grasps the side of your neck, squeezing it gently, a few lingering chuckles leave her lips. She pulls you closer, pecking your lips once, then twice.

"I’ll get you your Ballon Dior"

back on my spoiled!reader x leah bs. she's just a girl (wants her Ballon Dior)

thank you to the anon who sent the request <333 i hope you love it even if i changed it a lil bit <333

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[schoolofpracticalskills]

We can encourage this as consumers by making deliberate choices with our purchases - it starts not just with "can I reuse the packaging?" but also "can i support more sustainable packaging materials that aren't designed to go straight to the landfill?" If people stop choosing them, companies will switch gears.

By which I mean, where you are able and can afford to do so,

-LET GO OF BRAND LOYALTY. It's fine to have favorites, but be willing to try things out when you find something promising -avoid buying things that are sold shrinkwrapped -Buy the TP and other paper goods that come in paper packaging instead of plastic wrap. Use the paper to wrap gifts - you can draw or paint on the paper to change the appearance if you want. -if you want to buy pretty giftwrap, look for paper that is fully recyclable/biodegradeable - a lot of gift wrap has plastic, foil, or glitter that makes it landfill-destined. -new clothing is shipped in single-use plastic, individually wrapped before it ever lands on the rack - thanks fast fashion :) if possible, look into brands that are working to reduce their use of plastic, or buy second-hand. So much new clothing is such poor quality it falls apart in 3-4 washes anyways. -paper egg cartons can be used to plant seedlings, and I also shred them up to go in compost as brown waste. Avoid styrofoam or plastic egg cartons. -if you like to camp or picnic, use cardboard milk cartons to freeze blocks of ice for your cooler rather than buying bags of ice cubes (they also last longer that way, and filling the empty spaces in your freezer with ice makes it more energy efficient - less space for warm air) -opt for paper bags over plastic whenever given the option -Make/acquire reusable shopping bags that are washable fabrics like canvas - opt for the thickest & sturdiest you can find! -If possible, look for locally grown/made & sold - shipping long distances means more packaging in transit -we try not to buy soda in plastic bottles either - glass or cans are preferable! it's more expensive, but between cutting back on how much soda we drink and the difference in plastic waste (plus glass bottled sodas tend to be the better quality brands) we figure the exchange is worth it. -Buy food/candles/etc. that comes in glass jars rather than plastic (pro-tip: look for thicker glass, esp. on the bottom - it's less easy to break) Select jarred/bottled goods that have good/interesting shapes and sizes. I use them for things like vases, decor, organizers, etc. I use old herb jars to start plant cuttings in water, and my favorite mini-vase is an old saltshaker i got from my bff when he was moving! -if you are crafty, learn how to safely cut glass - it will open up new options for what you can do with glass bottles and jars -a lot of new sheet sets come with drawstring bags made from the same material - I like using the sheet bags as laundry bags when I travel, but they could also work for produce shopping bags instead of the plastic film ones the grocery store provides

Generally I prefer to avoid plastic as much as possible, but currently this is difficult. So for now, I try to make use of it as long as I can - lunch meat boxes as tupperware, jars for storage, misc plastic for crafting supplies - any way i can keep it out of the landfill and the environment. I'm looking into eco-brick making but I don't know much about it yet and I'm leery of potential leeching into soil and groundwater. If anyone else has sources to learn more, I'd appreciate a share!

And finally, and this is important if we want to see change from the source, send feedback to companies! Look for their website and send them an email, a phonecall, even a letter. If they have better and more sustainable packaging, tell them you approve and appreciate the attention to detail so that they know it's noticed by consumers. If you have problems with it (like that it's flimsy, or made of plastic, etc) tell them that you are disappointed, or that you will be looking for alternative options. ASK THEM to consider switching to non-plastic options.

If customer en masse start buying from the other guy, companies will start looking at what the other guy is doing that customers like better. If lots of the customers start saying hey, we love the shape of the jar you use, the company is less likely to change it because now they know it's a selling point. Send them pictures of the kinds of things that you're doing with the packaging. Post those pictures on social media. Share other people's creative projects and uses. If companies see that people are interested in these things, it becomes a marketing avenue for them - yes we wanna be suspicious of greenwashing, but we can still use their goals to help push them to change.

Ethical consumption under capitalism is impossible, but we do the best we can. And one more great way to start is to learn patience in your spending and acquisition of goods - are you buying something because it works in a pinch and you want it fast? Is it something that you can wait to buy the thing that exactly suits your needs rather than suffices for now?

You know how companies used to make flour sacks with pretty flower patterns on them because mothers would make dresses out of them for their daughters? We should bring that back. Paper bags designed to be reused as wrapping paper. Jars of jam designed to look nice filled with pencils or homemade sauces. Fabric that's high quality enough to use as a patch.

Give things a second life!!

[kdyq]

The start of a new beginning

Ambessa x Fem!reader

Part one of a my mini series

Context : As Ambessa steps into a new role one of fierce protector and tender caretaker. While navigating the delicate early days of potential pregnancy with the help of Hextech IVF.

The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of Hextech crystals glowing faintly along the walls. Piltover’s finest alchemist stood before you a meticulous mixture of science and magic in his hands. Within the small vial he carried was the culmination of countless discussions, hopes, and dreams shared between you and Ambessa a mixture of your genetic material prepared for implantation through the marvel of Hextech fertility.

Ambessa stood beside you her imposing figure like a fortress of strength. Her golden eyes usually so sharp and calculating flickered with an emotion she rarely allowed herself to show… hope. “This is it” you said your voice quiet but steady as you reached for her hand.

She took your smaller hand in hers, her touch surprisingly gentle. “This is the beginning of something greater than either of us.”You smiled up at her warmth spreading through your chest. “You sound more optimistic than I expected.”

Her lips quirked in a rare soft smile. “Let’s call it confidence. We’ve fought for this and Medardas don’t lose battles.”The alchemist cleared his throat reminding you both that this moment was more than just words. “Shall we proceed?”

You nodded and Ambessa gave your hand one final squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll be right here”she promised her deep voice grounding you.

The process was not painful but it was deeply intimate. Lying on the sterile table you felt a strange mix of vulnerability and strength. The alchemist worked with precision the glowing Hextech apparatus buzzing faintly as it did its work.

Ambessa sat by your side her chair pulled close. She had insisted on being present for every second refusing to leave your side even for a moment. Her large hand rested on yours her thumb tracing soothing patterns across your skin. “Does it hurt?” she asked her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Not really” you replied glancing up at her. “It’s just… strange. Knowing this could change everything.” “It will change everything” she said firmly her golden eyes locking onto yours. “And I’ll be here for every step of it.”

The procedure concluded without complication. The alchemist stepped back his expression one of professional satisfaction. “The implantation is complete. Now we wait for confirmation.” “How long?” Ambessa asked her tone calm but commanding.

“Two weeks” the alchemist replied. “ I’ll provide instructions to ensure the process is as smooth as possible. Minimal stress plenty of rest and careful monitoring.”Ambessa’s jaw tightened slightly but she nodded. “Understood.”You knew from that point own you wouldn’t lift a single finger until that conformation.

From the moment you left the clinic Ambessa transformed into a one woman security detail. She insisted on carrying you into the estate despite your protests.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking!” you said laughing as she scooped you up effortlessly.“Humor me” she replied her voice tinged with rare amusement. “You heard the alchemist minimal stress. I don’t take chances.”

Over the next few days her overprotectiveness became both endearing and slightly irritating . She refused to let you lift a finger but you know this is a love language for her she just doesn’t wanna tell you that. She’ll be reorganizing your usual routines with military precision.

“Ambessa I can pour my own tea” you said one morning as she carefully placed a steaming cup in front of you.“Not while I’m here” she countered her tone leaving no room for argument.

“oh my god your gonna drive me crazy” you teased though the warmth in your voice betrayed how much you appreciated her care.She leaned down her golden eyes locking onto yours. “Good. It means you’ll stay put.”

One evening as the two of you sat in the estate’s sprawling garden you finally managed to coax her into relaxing. The stars above were bright and the soft hum of the estate’s wards created a comforting background noise.

“You’ve been hovering “you said, leaning your head against her shoulder.“And?” she replied her smirk audible in her voice.

You laughed softly. “And I love you for it. But you don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.”Ambessa shifted slightly, turning to face you. Her large hands cradled yours, the contrast between your smaller fingers and hers a reminder of her strength.

“You’re not fragile,” she said, her voice low and serious. “But this…. this life we’re creating…. it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done. And I won’t take any risks with it or with you.”The intensity in her gaze left you momentarily speechless. You reached up, cupping her cheek and she leaned into your touch.

“I know love” you said softly. “But you don’t have to carry it all on your own. We’re in this together.”Her expression softened and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’ve always been better at balancing strength with softness. Maybe I could learn from you.”

As the two weeks stretched on your interactions grew even more intimate. Ambessa was a constant presence her protective instincts balanced by moments of vulnerability she rarely showed anyone else.

One afternoon she found you curled up in the library flipping through a book of baby names.“Already planning?” she asked her tone light as she sat beside you.“Just… imagining,” you replied, leaning against her. “Do you have any preferences?”

She took the book from your hands, flipping through it thoughtfully. “Something strong. Something that carries weight.”You smiled. “That’s very you.”

She looked down at you, her golden eyes warm. “And something that honors you.”The day of the follow up appointment arrived and Ambessa’s usual composure was replaced by a quiet tension. She held your hand tightly as you both awaited the results.When the alchemist finally returned holding the glowing test tube that signaled success, you felt tears well in your eyes.

“It worked”he said simply his voice filled with warmth. “Congratulations.”You turned to Ambessa your heart full. She stared at the test tube for a long moment before pulling you into her arms.

“You’ve done it” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “We’ve done it.”In that moment, surrounded by her strength and love you knew that this child would be born into a world shaped by both power and tenderness a legacy built on the unshakable bond you shared.

“THE END”

AN/ This took me so long to jus think about how im gonna do this whole story but im just about done with the part 4 ish I just wanted to have all or most of this mini series done so it wont be a long time between each “chapter”. Next one shot is Ambessa and then Sevika 🥸

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 5 masterlist

-

The day starts poorly and ends worse.

You sit with Gaz’s words all night and decide by morning’s first light that it is worth worrying about them after all. But for a different reason. The worry you settle on is that your deteriorating mind is now giving you warning signals of troubles to come, manifested in the form of an astronaut outside of the ship. A messenger; a harbinger. 

Breakfast is cold coffee over bit fingernails. You pull at a hangnail until it tears and pain zips up your finger, blood welling up under the split skin. Since you take your coffee in the medical unit these days, bandages and disinfectant are always within reach, meaning your fingers are always wrapped in them. Pigs in blankets. 

You make your way across the ship when morning briefing comes, fingers throbbing by your sides. 

Farah watches you from the other side of the cockpit during the briefing, her gaze inscrutable as ever. It takes a conscious effort not to shake under her stare. You’re not sure what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. 

In the background, Graves drones on about something that doesn’t penetrate through the thick miasma of your thoughts. It goes on for entirely too long. When he dismisses you all for the day, you stand up on crooked legs and hope they don’t buckle under you on the walk back to the medical unit. Farah’s eyes follow you until the door shuts behind you.  

You make another coffee instead of getting started on your tasks for the day. Your research can wait. That’s what you tell yourself at least, nails tapping against the metal table while the coffee machine spurts out your drink in a short, violent burst. A thin, reedy hiss. No instant crystals this time. It tastes almost burnt when you bring it to your lips. 

The mundanity of work pales in comparison to the events rapidly unfolding before your eyes. Are you sick or well? Is the man outside the ship real or not? Surely not, you tell yourself, pulse picking up again. You know better than that. Occam’s razor: the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one. 

It’s just that you don’t like where your mind is going with this one. 

The alarm goes off when your head is bent over the microscope, the sound so sudden and jarring that you nearly tumble right off your stool. It blares a piercing shriek through the medical unit and the hall outside, so loud that you cup your hands over your ears to hear yourself think. The stool clatters to the ground when you hurriedly slide off, heading towards the door. 

You stumble into the hallway to find it flooded in red light, pulsating in steady intervals for any deaf crew members. It guides you like a beacon down the hall towards the cockpit. Standard protocol is to head to either extremity of the ship, lifepods stored at both the front and back of the ship in case of an emergency. 

The others are already in the cockpit by the time you arrive. Claustrophobia sets in when the doors slide shut behind you, the room smaller with everyone packed inside at the same time. 

You feel someone’s eyes flick towards you before flitting away in the same second. Accounted for and disregarded. Hardly meriting any attention when the alarm blaring overhead is a far more pressing concern. 

Graves punches a button. “Ship, what’s the situation?” 

Micrometeoroid impact 

Damage sustained to starboard quarter

“Some of the photovoltaic cells are cracked,” Alex says, checking the status of the ship on another computer screen. “We have replacements though—could be worse.”

“Could be a lot fuckin’ better too,” Graves grumbles, forehead already pinched. 

Despite not being an engineer or astrophysicist, you’ve gone on enough interplanetary voyages to understand the implications of damaging the photovoltaic solar panels. Much of the electronics on board rely on the electricity derived from sunlight; this particular ship, designed only to venture as far as Jupiter, isn’t equipped with an alternative power source. 

“Should I engage the Canadarm to fix the damaged panel?” Alex asks from his perch.

Graves shakes his head. “We need to preserve as much power as possible while the cruise control is still out. It’ll have to be fixed manually.” With that said, he flips a switch to shut off the droning alarm, though the lights overhead stay red.

You flinch when the chief engineer slaps his hands down on his thighs, the sound jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “I fix like usual. No problem.”

“Nothing different than what we trained for.”

“Easy peasy,” he confirms, an easy smile on his face. 

“Okay, Nikolai, suit up—I’ll guide you from the cockpit,” Graves instructs, shifting into a mode you’ve never seen before. “Hadir, there’s a replacement panel in section seven in the cargo hold—get it and bring it back now. Nikolai’s going to have to fix it from the outside.”

The terror that lances through you when Graves says that is immediate and sharp. You know nothing’s out there, but the fear response is as real as if something were. 

It’s an unwarranted response, fueled by paranoia and delusion. This is a scenario the crew has prepared for back on Earth a multitude of times. They wouldn’t have been given clearance to leave the planet without having run through every potential complication and calamity. There are strict regulations to follow, protocols and standards to ensure that nothing comes as a surprise. 

But still—

Your chest is tight. Heart pounding against your ribcage so hard that you wince. There’s no one outside the ship but still you can’t help but think that opening the doors might let it in. 

When Nikolai leaves to suit up for the spacewalk, you trail after him, following Farah’s lead. You didn’t notice that Hadir had already departed, but his absence is glaring on the walk towards the airlock. 

“Smile a little, Farah,” Nikolai says, poking fun at the eternally stern woman keeping pace with him. “It’s good to have some excitement around here.”

“I’m not a fan of excitement,” she responds, voice terse. He laughs at her words, the booming sound echoing through the corridor.

You watch helplessly as Nikolai gears up, Farah helping him lock the helmet into his suit, doing a quick, final inspection of the glass to ensure that there aren’t any cracks or scratches. 

The glass of Nikolai’s visor glints opalescent under the station lights, the glass infused with low-grade aerogel to protect from interplanetary radiation and solar winds. Packets of higher grade aerogel are stuffed into the lining of his suit, protecting the rest of his body as well. 

Hadir returns not long after with all of the requisite parts needed for the repair neatly stored in a rectangular container that attaches securely to the front of Nikolai’s suit, leaving his hands free. The three move in synchrony, a finely-tuned dance practiced repeatedly in the months leading up to the launch. 

You keep to the wall in order to avoid getting in the way. 

The first door leading into the airlock is opened when Nikolai finally gives Farah the word, their checklist run through twice before being met with approval. 

Nikolai deliberately turns away from the door when the airlock door shuts behind him and the chamber begins to depressurize. You wince sympathetically when you notice his shoulders tense. The oxygen in his tanks is specially designed to purge the nitrogen from his blood, but under better conditions, he would’ve spent closer to an hour prebreathing in order to transition from high to low pressure. 

He only gets a few minutes to adjust. When his allotted time expires, the second pair of doors slide open—the last partition between the inner and outer world—and Nikolai takes his first step towards the darkness of space. 

You can’t watch after that. Instead, you hurry back to the cockpit, jaw so tight that it aches. 

Graves looks up when you enter, but otherwise doesn’t say a word to you. Alex flashes you a brief, tense grin. The first couple of minutes of any space walk are always nerve wracking, despite the reassurance of preparation and all times before. There’s an inherent anxiety in seeing the human body go out into the cold vastness of space. 

“Nikolai—you copy?” Graves asks through the transmitter.

The receiver crackles. “Loud and clear, boss,” he rumbles, accent thick even over radio waves. 

A shadow of a smile flits over Graves’ face, the tension in the room briefly relieved. Even your shoulders lower at the sound of his voice. 

“You sound better like this,” Graves teases. “Less nasally.”

“I’ll ask your mum the next time she calls,” Nikolai rebuts, a similar teasing sneer in his voice. 

“Asshole,” Graves laughs, keeping his finger on the button the whole time. 

The camaraderie would usually make your heart ache. Not today though. There’s no space for anything other than worry. 

“Proceeding towards starboard,” Nikolai says, narrating his movements for the benefit of those on board.

There aren’t any cameras on the outside of the ship, meaning the crew can only communicate with the man via audio. On a newer spacecraft that might not be the case, but this ship is old, a relic of times past, her maiden voyage predating the addition of exterior cameras. 

You wait in the cockpit with Alex and Graves while Nikolai repairs the panel outside, nerves shot. A half hour passes by without thought. You dig your nails into the palm of your hands and wait it out, each minute feeling eternal, elongated somehow. Every so often, the receiver crackles and Nikolai gives an update on his work. Each time, the crackle makes you flinch. 

Despite the unease churning in your stomach, the amount of time isn’t suspect; you know he has to disconnect and remove the damaged panel section before installing a replacement panel.

Yet, you can’t quite shake the nausea building in your stomach. The way it cramps and flutters. 

At some point during the wait, Farah slips into the room, and you only notice her when you twist your head from side to side to stretch out the muscles in your neck and find her leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed tight over her chest. 

For someone who has most certainly monitored and participated on spacewalks before, you’re surprised to find her just as anxious as you, albeit better at concealing it. You’d have thought of all people, she’d be the most comfortable. Instead, her eyes stare sightlessly at the flight deck window, finger tapping against her elbow; a nervous twitch. 

The receiver crackles again. “Panel secure. Heading back n—” 

Both Graves and Alex sit up straighter, staring down at the receiver as if anticipating the rest of the sentence. It never comes. You feel a sweat break on the back of your neck. 

Graves presses a button. “Nikolai, we didn’t catch that. Say again.” 

He’s met with a deeper, more prolonged silence. 

“Nikolai?” Graves repeats into the mic, his voice broadcast over the intercom system throughout the ship. “Nikolai, do you copy?”

Silence. Nikolai’s transmitter crackles in response, as if his finger were on the button, but his voice never follows. 

“Kolya?” Graves asks, and you can hear the sliver of desperation, the worry couched in professional concern. You’ve never heard him use that name before. 

Another minute goes by without a response. The tension is thick in the air. 

The sound of the door to the cockpit opening cuts through the air and you turn to watch as Farah leaves without a word. Again, puppyish, you follow after her. You’re not sure why. Her back is ramrod straight as she marches down the hall, tension rippling down her shoulders. She doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you make your way down the corridor together. 

The two of you stare out the first porthole for some time before proceeding to the airlock further down the hall. No sign of Nikolai. Graves’ voice crackles over the intercom, keeping the crew dispersed throughout the ship abreast of any sign of Nikolai. 

“I’m going out,” Farah abruptly announces, punching in the code for the second spacesuit locker. 

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, watching as she rips the zipper down the length of the suit to open it and starts to tug it out of the locker. 

“I’m going to check on him,” she repeats, enunciating each individual word as if you didn’t hear her the first time. 

“Is that—is that a good idea? Shouldn’t you consult the commander before—”

It isn’t your place to question her, but an instinct deep inside of you says don’t go out there, don’t go out. What’s out there should stay out there. 

“This is my job, doctor,” she cuts you off, finally wrenching the second suit out of the locker and jamming her leg into the lower torso component. “I don’t tell you how to do your job and you certainly don’t tell me how to do mine—”

Then, somehow, you both see it at the same time. A hand pressed flat to the airlock window, the fingers spread wide. The body attached to it must still be hanging off the side of the ship because you don’t see the rest of him, just a palm open wide on the far edge of the window. And though Farah breathes thank fuck, Kolya under her breath—the most relieved you’ve ever heard her—your stomach cramps and your palms grow clammy. 

The spacesuit she’d been about to step into falls to the floor in a heap. From the corner of your eye, you see Farah reach for the airlock lever to open the door, and your hand instinctively goes up as well, your fingers closing around her wrist to hold her in place. 

“Wait.” It’s your voice but not your voice. It’s your fingers around her wrist though, staying her hand. It’s your stomach cramped up in a Gordian knot, bile at the back of your throat because this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. 

She wrenches her wrist out of your grasp with more strength than you anticipated, pulling down the lever in the next breath. The look she sends you as the exterior door slides open is scathing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her repressed fury coming to life. You can feel it now coming off her in waves—the days of doubt and mistrust, so unsettled by your actions to the point that now she snarls at you without a second thought. 

Your lips part but nothing comes out. No way to explain yourself, just the gut feeling of something terribly wrong. 

All you can do is watch as the first set of doors open to the blackness of space, your body frozen where you stand, heart in your throat. The hand briefly disappears from the window just to reappear a second later, gripping the side of the door to haul himself inside. His movements are slow and deliberate, hampered by the lack of gravity. 

You notice the glaring issue almost immediately, but your throat is far too dry for you to speak. You wonder if Farah has noticed it as well. The man in the spacesuit taking his first step into the airlock is leaner than the man who left. Shorter too. Not the bear of a man that stepped out just an hour ago, but someone new. Someone that now flips the switch on the interior wall to shut the door behind him, which it does noiselessly. 

“Farah,” you whisper uncertainly. She doesn’t respond. You wish you could turn your head to look at her, but you can’t rip your eyes off the man in the airlock. 

You wait with baited breath for the airlock to repressurize the first chamber. It takes as long as it did to depressurize in the first place, an agonizing handful of minutes that you can only spend staring at the man standing in the middle of the chamber, his visor still tilted too low for you to make out his face. 

But you know, don’t you? 

With a door separating the two of you, the sound never actually reaches your ears, but you swear you can almost hear the hiss of his helmet unlocking. You’re sweating hard now, heart racing in your chest and still you blink twice, hoping that the man behind the glass will suddenly disappear or suddenly grow in size. 

The man reaches two gloves hands up to twist the helmet out of its locked position and then slowly pulls it off, revealing a face that you’ve become familiar with these past few days. Dark skin and a high fade. A scar high on his cheekbone, the wound long healed. 

“Farah,” you say again, and your voice cracks this time. Beside you, you hear her let out a shuddering breath. 

Through the glass, he smiles at you, full lips pulling apart to expose a row of gleaming white teeth. He waves a thick-fingered, gloved hand and mouths your name.

[insomniadreamzz]

Imma go combine two requests in that one.

Request 1: i was thinking if you could write something like jinx using her shimmer speed for fucking?

Request 2: If you still take requests, and when you get a chance, could you do a G!P Jinx x fem reader? The scenario I was picturing was that they are cuddling with the reader in Jinx's lap, and the reader is sort of grinding against her as they try and reposition themselves. And they're unaware of what it's doing to Jinx and eventually Jinx has enough and and fucks the reader right then and there.

———

My good girl

Mentions of G!P, smut, rough sex, overstimulation, blowjob, bratty Reader, dom!Jinx

You finally got Jinx away from her work bench, cuddling for a while now, you straddling her lap while your head rested in the crook of her neck. You loved cuddling with her, inhaling her beautiful scent. In moments like this even Jinx was calm, not being her usual bubbly self. The only thing that you could hear was her calm breathing and feeling her hand caress up and down your back. Jinx showing affection like this is a rare thing so you enjoyed every second.

„I love you.“ You whispered, your breath tickling her a little, she pressed a kiss on your forehead. „I love you too.“ You loved hearing her say that, slightly shifting on her lap to reposition yourself a little, feeling how Jinx‘s body tensed up but she didn’t say anything yet. You did move again, your crotch grinding against hers and you leaned up to have a better view of her now, you could see her cheeks being flushed red and her expression showing a little bit of weakness. You didn’t think about anything not innocent so you didn’t really understand why she looked at you like this.

„What? You okay?“ You giggle innocently, placing a soft kiss on her lips, as you do so you shifted again. „Ngh…fine that’s enough.“ Jinx groaned as she flipped you over, now being on top of you as she pushed you into the mattress. „Don’t you think I noticed this?“ She grumbled as her hands pinned yours down, she was being serious but you still didn’t get it. „Noticed what? We were cuddling.“ You mentioned and she let out a little sigh before pressing her clothed crotch against yours, making you feel her bulge.

Your cheeks instantly heat up, surprised by her getting excited so fast. „I-…I didn’t think you would get that hard because of a little shifting.“ Your words made her grunt, rolling her eyes annoyed. „Yea sure. You grind against me and think I won’t get hard? Nice try love, I am gonna give you what you deserve for lying to me. You know I hate being lied on.“

Even though you didn’t lie at all to her and just wanted a innocent moment with her without thinking about your own movements and what they would cause, you felt excited to see what she will do to you so you just played along with her. Telling her you didn’t do it on purpose won’t work on Jinx anyways if she is stuck in her own mindset. That’s what you learned about her very fast.

„Mhh…so you wanna put your little brat in her place?“ You just went along with the little game, not knowing what it would cause. „So? You’re so confident aren’t you? Let me fuck that confidence out of you then.“ She said with a husky voice, sitting up to remove her pants to let her hard cock free. Before you could react she grabbed you by your hair, making you sit up and shoved her cock inside of your mouth. „That’s it…use that bratty mouth on me.“ Jinx groaned as she moved her hips, letting her cock slide down your throat, making you gag a little bit on it. You tried your best to please her, letting her go all in and as fast as she wanted, your tongue swirling around her cock, hands placed on her hips to keep you up.

When she had the feeling she shut you up enough, only hearing your muffled moans and looking into your teary eyes, she decided to pull on your hair as she made you lean back a little, her cock and your mouth being connected by a string of your saliva as you looked at her beautiful pink eyes glowing of excitement. „That’s my good girl…I am not planning on giving you the pleasure to swallow it this time. I‘d rather want to make a mess out if you. Brats do deserve that.“ Her smirk was very evil, you knew that look on her face. She really meant what she said.

Jinx removed your pants and panties as well along with your shirt, wanting to have you fully exposed to her, smirking playfully as she gazed down at you, spreading your legs to see you being dripping wet for her. Your own hands move to your breasts, wanting to touch yourself but Jinx didn’t like that idea, giving you a little slap on your wet pussy which made you whine out loudly, whimpering after. „No touching. I am gonna touch you, your hands better stay away if you don’t want me to slap you again.“ She commanded you before adjusting herself properly between your legs, moving her cock inside of you deeply without a warning, making you moan out. „Ah! Fuck Jinx!“

Jinx only smirked playfully at your reaction. „Didn’t I tell you I will fuck the brat out of you?“ She didn’t wait for you to get used to her size as she started thrusting her hips inside of you, both of you ending up being a moaning mess, your tummy making a little bulge each time she thrusted into you made her know she was just hitting the right spot. Her eyes started glowing a lot again, a sign that showed whenever she used her shimmer which made her thrust into you in a inhuman speed, making you moan uncontrollably as your legs clenched around her, reaching your orgasm as your juices spilled all over her cock.

Jinx didn’t think of stopping yet, throwing her head back as she moaned out loudly, little strings of pink light following her eyds as she moved her head back. „J-Jinx! Stop!…I-I can’t-…ahh!“ You try to beg her to stop feeling overstimulated, not even able to form proper words, your whimpering moans cutting of your words. Jinx loved everything about this, looking down at you with such a needy gaze, you were wondering how she could keep herself from cumming.

„Naw…I am sure you can baby. You are my good girl. You can take it.“ She encouraged you, still pounding into you hard and fast, filling up the room with lewd wet sounds. Your juices helping her to slide in even more easier. „Hnng! You are so good for me, taking my punishment so good huh? Yes that’s it, good girl, my good girl.“ She groaned in between her moaning, biting her lower lip, a sign she was close and so were you, cumming again with a whine, your legs trembling underneath her, arching your back, tears of pleasure running down your eyes and finally Jinx reached her high as well, pulling out to cum on your lower tummy, making a mess out of you. „God…so sexy for me…“ She mumbled under her breath, jerking herself off on you before she leaned down, running her tongue along your wet folds, tasting your juices mixed together, feeling you twitch when her tongue reached your clit.

Jinx was satisfied for now, seeing you all done as you are still not ready to form words, being out of breath. „Next time don’t be so bratty and I will cum inside you instead~“ She said with her usual playful voice like she didn’t just dominate you and fucked you breathless.

She positioned herself back beside you, pulling you close to her chest as she began to be her soft, loving self again towards you, whispering so softly to you. „You’re mine, remember that.“ You just nod, feeling your body already feeling sore and she knew that, keeping you close to her until you both eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

[ellevandersneed]

not close match actually like mine is at best like a sort of reactionary frustration towards being told i'd fit into a job that I was sold on as being a form of "job theft from 'real artists'" but explicitly for an entertainment complex that could very well be described as evil, or at least a monument to imperial core hubris as it attempts to circumvent employment costs in favor of faster and faster content output, but forgetting that imperial core morality around selective labor rights will call you out instantly if you try to do that to middle class desk-job Usian citizens (especially to the idolized but still feverishly exploited "artist" class) and not outsourcing your labor extraction methods to the global south like a good little imperial company. like forget the argument around copyright and "real art" for a second or even if the technology itself is somehow morally bad to use for any purpose whatsoever but instead think of the ways in which it is applied for the sake of consolidating wealth away from a shrinking middle class whose material benefits slowly disintegrate into token concessions of cheaply made electronic devices sourced from global south labor + materials and immediate access to global foodstuffs which themselves have been sourced through neo-colonialist enforced slave labor, (iphones, chocolate, & bananas), while their wealth is siphoned further into the hands bourgeois or even petit-bourgeois businessmen who have found "shortcuts and loopholes" in the latest several decades of technological shift where they can climb higher in the ranks of a class segregated society, the remaining middle class existing as a promised pious future for working class imperial citizens while the working class are sold as the object that threatens the middle class if they deviate from the capitalist program ("this is what YOU will become"). I had been asked to capitulate to capitalist hunger but like the luddites before me I smashed the machine and buried my head in the bosom of a hypothetical, fetishized guild of workers, of petit-bourgeois artisans who themselves are only class conscious insomuch as they fear their own dissolution and subjugation into the lower working class much like any petit-bourgeois minded individual. My next step would have been to market some kind of plushie of an original character made through sweatshop labor disguised as "ethically sourced" so that I may withstand the ever increasing demands of the imperial landlord class of parasites, as just another functionary in the capitalist machine, taking care of myself and no one else. I was right to be disgusted by Mr. Beasts offer but for misguided, reactionary reasons, though I was halfway then to where I am now and I am halfway now to where I will be as I keep learning more about the world. Apologies if any of this is a poor reading. Your case is that you've been offered, as an alternative to the capitalist rat-race that is designed to kill you if you are not economically useful (or in a position of economic protection, bourgeois), to join the cushy militant arm of the bourgeois class, where you get to shoot at underage protestors in exchange for all the creature comforts of a nice imperial petit-bourgeois lifestyle (iphone, chocolate, and bananas... maybe even the chance to escape from the demands of the landlord class and potentially one day join their ranks?). I think you should be fucking outraged. My anger is susceptible to reactionary thought, but you are being bribed in the most blatant fashion. LinkedIn is actually the worst website on planet earth

this might be one of the worst things anyones ever said to me