#if you only watch a little bit. it may seem like the point is for our woman protagonist to become a prince and defy expectations.

[rindreamery]

nishi's thoughts ─ itoshi sae x reader ─ enemies to ?

"i would rather tread through mud in a new dress than dance with you," you whisper harshly through gritted teeth, gazing into his eyes with animosity. but the polite smile on your lips never falters.

even with the crescendo of the violins in the background, and the chatter of the ton surrounding the two of you, you hear sae scoff under his breath. loud and clear. but he doesn't let it show— his face simply remains neutral, lips pressed into a relaxed line, as he sways you around the ballroom. keeping up the facade of a pleasant dance for anyone who may be watching keenly.

mainly, your mother and his, who had forced the two of you together.

"charming," comes his rather dry, but expected, response. there is not a hint of care in his voice, just irritatingly smooth and monotone as he speaks. "no one is stopping you."

and as if to prove a point, his grip on you loosens at that, his once firmly placed hand on your waist merely hovering. but you sway with him regardless, not making a move to leave.

“scared?”

it takes everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes, lips twitching as you fight back a frown. your eyes flicker over to your mother momentarily, checking, only to see that she’s staring right at the two of you. there’s a kind smile on her face as her eyes trail after you two, but you know better— it’s kind, but threatening. reminding you to be nice to him, or else.

you hold your tongue, bringing your gaze back to the man in front of you. “judging from the fact that you won't truly let go of me, it seems you are too.”

like you, he glances over to his mother, and then back at you. “then, i suppose that leaves you with no choice but to dance with me.”

you breathe in heavily, dreading the thought, and you force your smile to be even sweeter and more sickening. “i will pity your next partner—” before you fake a stumble, pretending to trip over your feet as you ‘miscount’ the steps to the beat. you tighten your grip on him, gloved fingers digging into his shoulders, and stepping deliberately onto his foot, angling the heel of your shoe into his with added emphasis.

sae’s body stiffens imperceptibly, and a sharp wince flashes across his face, gone before anyone else can notice. but you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, almost glaring at you. maybe, even a little bit in disbelief. you chortle at that, restrained as you try not to make too loud of a sound.

to other people, it looks like a clumsy mistake— a small misstep in your footing. but judging from the look in his eyes, you know he knows.

he grips onto your waist in retaliation, though, with not nearly as much force. provoked. “how unfortunate for you, then.”

© rindreamery, 2025

[kii-nami]

NIGHTBRINGER'S EPITAPH | PHAINON & MYDEI

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

CW: 10K WORDS; ; FEM!MC; MC IS INVOLVED WITH BOTH OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME BUT FUJOS DNI; NO ACTUAL CHEATING; PART OF A WIDER HSR AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; WRITTEN FROM A POV OF MY OTHER OC FROM THIS FIC; I AM NOT A HONKAI LORE SCHOLAR I'M SIMPLY FREAKY; IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK

They meet you for the first time with the fog of the hot water settling heavily in their lungs.

Burdened by her unavoidable involvement with this world’s struggles, Stelle is a little tense beside Shuhua. Their close brush with death – curtsy of Aglaea’s fierce dedication to protecting the secrets of Amphoreus – left the group somewhat shaken. Everything has been overwhelming ever since the cart crash-landed; so much so that Alisa started doubting Stelle’s decision to stay, instead of returning back to the train.

Despite accepting and enjoying her life of Trailblaze, this time things felt somewhat different. There was too much at stake to simply vanish and end up dead now. And they just had to get stranded without any way to contact the Express and leave sick March behind to be looked after by that suspicious Memokeeper hitching a ride.

Maybe asking Sunday, who is yet to settle down properly without following her around everywhere, to stay back and keep an eye on the situation was a bad idea on Alisa’s part. Even Aventurine, unfortunately roped into their shenanigans by Shuhua yet again, is suffering the consequences of their decision to leave them behind to have a nice trip as a family.

And it’s not like Alisa hasn’t entertained the idea of trying to use the powers of Repudiation, but the possibilities of what-ifs were far too great for her to risk the lives of her friends. So none of this seems extremely enthralling now that Alisa has to constantly watch her companion’s backs, trying to make sure she doesn’t need to mend them together body part by body part.

At least now that Aglaea isn’t trying to actively kill them, the group can finally relax just a little. And now that they’re about to go on a quest to kill a Titan – a God? surely not an Aeon? – Shuhua decided that it’s the best time for them to be as greedy and lazy as possible and soak in the healing waters of Amphoreus.

Maybe this too, as per usual, is a bad decision.

From under the weight of warm waters everything is coated in haze. Despite the promise of these baths healing not only body and mind, but also soul, Alisa is yet to feel any different. Being immune to everything has its ups and downs and right now she got the short end of the stick, unlike the rest of her companions.

Shuhua, as restless and as dedicated to playing a martyr as she usually is, spots Phainon first. Her mood pers up instantly, wet tail swishing excitedly in the hot water of the public bathhouse, sprinkling the droplets all over her companions. Through half-lidded eyes Stelle groans slowly, almost spitting the bathhouse water that got into her mouth. Lethargically scooting away from Shuhua to not get assaulted by her enthusiasm any longer, Stelle continues her nap in relative peace.

Noticing how nobody seems to appreciate her elation, the foxian finally decides to calm down a little, pointing unceremoniously to the faraway corner of the bath, “Look. Over there.”

Dan Heng, bored and half-invested into Shuhua’s new scheme, follows her line of sight languidly, only to be met with a picture that is a bit too perplexing even to someone like him. “Is that Phainon?”

A rhetoric question it may be, but it surely wakes Stelle up from her warmth-infused drowsiness, “Where?” With one eye open, sleep still clouding her vision, she looks in the direction that holds Dan Heng’s attention, just to finally wake up when she does spot Okhema’s unwilling hero. “Oh… It’s not that I’m judging, but…”

“That’s a little shameless even by my standards.” Shuhua snickers, a little devious chuckle, before she sinks under the water to tug Alisa up to the surface.

Finally releasing the breath she was holding, Alisa wipes the water dripping from her lashes and focuses on whatever got Shuhua act all scandalized. And considering that the foxian had little to none of said shame in her body, it must be one hell of a scene. Involving Phainon of all people, no less.

Elbows resting on the edge of the bath, he’s leaning back against the tiled wall. It's almost odd to see him so exposed, or even visiting a public bathhouse of all places, especially when Aglaea offhandedly mentioned that the Chrysos Heirs had their own private one to use however they pleased. It must have been truly an exclusive place with no entrance for ordinary people for him to be here. And considering his obvious company, it wasn’t much of a wonder why he chose to come here instead.

You – whoever you are – slowly step out of the warm waters, wet hair sticking to your exposed back; white, lightweight fabric of your robe clinging to your body, clashing with golden and crimson ink all over your skin. You reach for a bowl of grapes on one of the tables with refreshments, returning back into the bath just as leisurely, and it is only when the waves pick up the length of your hair that Alisa realizes the extent of your undress. Nothing but a thin, flowy fabric of your robe hanging loosely off your shoulders, you press yourself close to Phainon’s side and he eagerly invites you into an embrace, tucking you tightly to his chest. You pluck a grape from the wine, passing one to Phainon, brushing the pink berry against his lips. He opens his mouth, all but literally eating out of the palm of your hand.

Picking one for yourself, you pop the grape into your mouth; only you don’t get to enjoy the taste of it, as Phainon leans close to you, lips pressed against yours in an unannounced kiss. It’s a long moment before you separate, wandering hands of the hero straying a bit too far along your waist for such a public setting, but when he does allow you to breathe again, you huff and scoot away, following with a playful roll of your eyes. As smug as always, Phainon grins triumphantly. The berry stolen from your mouth must have tasted a lot sweeter than the one you offered him.

Phainon says something, slow and well-enunciated, although all the words are lost between the hum of the waves and the chatter of other visitors. You reply, much less careful and much more hurried, yet it still brings a blinding smile to Phainon’s face as he laughs freely. And when he brazenly tugs you impossibly close, with you all but sitting on his lap, Phainon seems much more relaxed, almost free, as if completely unburdened by the expectations this world placed on him resting on his shoulders. It’s as if only the weight of your body against his that truly matters for him; the delicate softness of your touch as your fingers glide along his shoulders until you bring your lips together once more.

And maybe it is so. Alisa does not allow herself to ponder on it any longer, lest it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Jealousy is a vice, and she might not be holy, but envying someone else’s love this pure will surely drag her to hell if her past doesn’t already guarantee her a spot there. Maybe a little risk is worth a chance of seeing him even for a second.

Dan Heng’s deadpan voice brings Alisa back to reality, far away from the dangerous thoughts she will inevitably regret, “You have zero shame, Shuhua.”

The foxian scoffs, tugging on the tip of her ear to shake the excess water soaked into the fur right on the vidyadhara’s face, “Clearly they have negative shame, Dan Heng.”

 “Should we go say hi?” As if just woken up – full of mischief and yearning to wreak havoc – Stelle darts up to her feet, raining bathwater all over with her chaotic movements, “I feel like we should.”

Alisa has half a mind to stop her. It's neither time nor place and the two of you are clearly busy. Tomorrow is an important and, quite frankly, terrifying day for everyone in the Holy City, Alisa can only begin to imagine how you must be feeling sending Phainon away to battle a literal god. Logically, it’s better to give you some privacy, but has Stelle – or anyone other than Sunday, for that matter – ever listened to what Alisa had to say? The answer is predictably obvious, and whatever protests she voices are all lost on Stelle as she readies herself to march into the mayhem of her own doing.

“I strongly advise against it.”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to, tripping over her own feet, grasping for anything to hold onto and dragging Alisa along with her under the warm waters of the bathhouse. Shuhua and Dan Heng are quick to pull the two of them up, but their movements are far too sluggish under the influence of Thanatos’ power, and it does little to stop Alisa from inhaling some of the water.

“Miss Castorice…” She coughs out a greeting, although it seems to just make the matters worse as the woman takes a guarded step back.  “It’s okay! We’re okay! You just startled us.”

“I apologize, Lady Alisa. It wasn’t my intention.” Despite her rather poor repertoire of emotions, guilt is prominent on Castorice’s otherwise impassive features. Hands locked tensely in front of her, the Chrysos Heir sends another apologetic glance Alisa’s way before focusing on Stelle, “But please do not disturb them. It’s rare to see them here like this. Lord Phainon rarely has the time these days and Lady [Name] almost never leaves the Temple…” Castorice catches herself, putting an abrupt stop to her rambling, although the way she’s carefully watching you and Phainon paints a completely different picture for her sudden decision to stop talking. “Such an awful fate they were given.”

About to press for some answers, Alisa tries to find the question she wants the answer to the most, but none seem not invasive enough. Still, she imagines any would be more tactful than anything brewing in Shuhua’s head and judging by the ever-growing smirk tugging on the corners of her lips, she has a lot of those prepared already. Yet just like Stelle not so long ago, Alisa is not successful in her endeavor.

“Castorice!” Phainon’s voice is as clear as she remembers hearing it for the first time. “Esteemed guests, too.” He waves in their direction, hurriedly crossing the little distance between the refreshments table and their bath. “What a coincidence. Is the water to your liking?”

Dan Heng dips his head in lackluster appreciation, “It’s great, thanks.”

Satisfied with the answer, Phainon doesn’t offer any more questions, although the mysterious something woven into his self-assured smile is a little unnerving this time around, “If you’re free this evening you should come to the Garden of Life. My light has a way with words, her songs will not disappoint you.”

Castorice nods, accepting the offer easily. Even if Alisa wasn’t as intrigued by your relationship, she would have agreed either way. If not for the music, then at least for the rare investment sparking in Castorice’s eyes at the mention of you two.

“We’ll be there, Lord Phainon.” Maybe not everyone, most likely just Alisa and Dan Heng, but she would definitely not miss a free opportunity to listen to a ballad or two.

 “Not you too…” A disappointed sigh following his words, Phainon frowns slightly; blue eyes darting between Alisa and Castorice, he shakes his head, “No matter. I’m gonna go back now, can’t leave my lady alone for too long or she gets stolen by wild cats.” The smug arrogance paints his grin once more; Castorice – so uncharacteristically for her – looks almost amused by the nonsensical joke Phainon made. “See you later!”

He leaves in a hurry, just as fast and suddenly as he approached them, returning to your side. You welcome him, offering to take the wine pitcher off his hand but Phainon just shakes his head in silent disapproval. Opting to pour the pale peachy wine himself, he settles in the water next to you and lifts the goblet just enough for you to drink from it. And when you do take a careful sip from the silver cup, Phainon is quick to steal the wine from your mouth. Although you never seem to truly mind his unabashed behavior in the slightest, indulging it way more than you ever should have.

Maybe Shuhua is right for once, there are people with less than no shame.

Finally turning away, Alisa can’t help but muse over such unrestrained displays of affection. “He loves her a lot.” It sounds almost bitter, but Alisa is glad nobody notices. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Even with her escaping the grasp of Istanai, Alisa will never truly be free unless she returns back to his side. And she can’t right now.

“He does.” Castorice is as solemn as always when she agrees quietly, her next words distorted by the excited buzz of the bathhouse visitors, “I imagine when you have so little to remember of home, what you do have you cannot ever let go. Even in death.”

It’s silent after that. Only the distant hum of the chatter and Phainon’s laughter cutting through the wall of white noise once in a while. They watch Castorice carefully as her unreadable eyes, all but glued to the glow of the sun shining over your head, get mistier by the moment. Tense shoulders, she cannot seem to find peace amongst the foggy air of the bathhouse.

“Castorice?” Stelle calls her name tentatively, but Castorice, too deep in whatever thoughts torment her, doesn’t react. Shuhua nudges Alisa on the shoulder, a little spooked by the idea of a literal manifestation of death being so lost in her own thoughts, and having no choice on the matter, Alisa reaches carefully to tug on the skirts of Castorice’s dress.

The Chrysos Heir flinches ever so slightly, misty gaze clearing up as she looks at where Alisa is still holding onto the fabric of her dress. “Please don’t listen to the rumors. Lady [Name] is not a bad person.” Coming completely out of left field, Castorice’s warning confuses the group even more than her silence ever did. “And do come to the performance, you might gain a lot of insight on that which you never considered to ponder on.” She looks almost conflicted when she says this, as if fighting with reason itself to justify her decision. Although when Castorice does get it off her chest, she seems almost liberated from her self-imposed shackles. Then she blinks, hand pressed over her chest as if she just remembered something important, “I completely forgot… I came here to fetch you, Lady Alisa. Lady Aglaea is interested in striking a deal.”

Shuhua groans. Alisa gets out of the water without much thought. Control is order and you cannot control what you cannot see. Yet again, the daughter of Repudiation is the biggest enemy of order. Only Aglaea is nothing like Sunday. And it’s for the better that she isn’t.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Alisa killed an Aeon once, what a demigod compared to rejection personified?

If only things were that easy.

They meet you for the second time with the strumming of a harp and your soft voice barely audible in their ears.

You are dressed far more modestly than you were back at the bathhouse, which isn’t that hard to achieve all things considered. Much of your exposed skin is still painted with golden ink, intertwined with red lines where they form some kind of convoluted patterns all over your chest and back. Your fingers run over the strings with some sort of stiffness one would not expect from a professional musician, and despite the music being nothing short of heavenly, you seem far too detached from the tune you’re playing. Even your voice is far too muted for a crowd that gathered around, and although the people are eerily silent while listening to your romantic tale of a sun’s journey to greatness, nobody is asking you to sing louder.

It's strange. There’s something off about this evening that Alisa can’t place her finger on just yet. Castorice hesitantly learns to accept that the powers given to her hold no effect on the daughter of Repudiation, so she slowly takes some liberties in standing far closer to Alisa than any reason would allow. Alisa lets her, contemplating offering a friendly hand, but deciding against it at the end. She knows better than anyone how overwhelming change can be for a person.

Shuhua, despite her initial unwillingness to join the group for a night out opting to just wallow in misery as she always tends to do at any mild inconvenience, seems to enjoy herself right now. Stelle and Dan Heng stand a little to the side, the deadpan expression on his face gives away an idea or two about the topic of Stelle’s commentary.

Phainon is sitting on the grass close to where you are, unbothered and casual as he always seems to be. Aglaea and one of the fragments of Tribios – Tribbie – are conversing quietly in the far away corner of the Garden of Life, but the leader of Chrysos Heirs doesn’t look all that happy to be here. Even the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos is present, albeit it’s a little hard to read between the lines of his permanent scowl, even more so than through Aventurine’s carefully crafted, mildly amused poker-face.

It's not Mydei’s presence that rubs Alisa the wrong way, it’s the odd absent-eyed looks Aglaea keeps throwing the Nameless that bother her. Despite a quite innocent and harmless deal they struck today, Alisa can’t help but feel even more on edge around the woman. Aglaea admitted she can only see this world through the golden thread, so why does she keep eyeing them so intently? It’s none of Alisa’s business and yet… Survival of her family is her business, isn’t it?

People give you a round of applause and you lift yourself up from the grass, bowing shallowly. Phainon is quick to follow you, taking the harp off your hands and bringing your palm to his mouth in a fleeting kiss. Castorice shifts uncomfortably, closer to Alisa’s side. And Alisa truly doesn’t want to assume anything, but from the corner of her eye she watches Aglaea’s frown deepen.

The crowd disperses slowly. Shuhua attaches herself to Alisa’s arm with a tired groan and an annoyed twitch of her ears, nuzzling against the feathers of halovian wings. Stelle is still rambling about losing her login streak in Wandering Waves and missing some important character’s banner. Dan Heng is the only one to actually care about the performance and even if usually Alisa would be the first to jump into a discussion about arts, her mind is uncharacteristically elsewhere.

With a whine, Shuhua announces that she’s craving a late-night snack before the big day. Both Stelle and Dan Heng pretend they don’t hear anything, not that Alisa expected anything else from them. Not even fighting for custody rights, Alisa drags Shuhua into a different direction that will take them to the Marmoreal Market. Maybe some dromas steak will soothe her friend’s miserable longing.

Yet as per the rules of Trailblaze, its pathstriders can’t stop getting themselves in trouble. And even now Alisa is barely quick enough to tug Shuhua behind a row of shelves full of potted plants before they get spotted by the two shadowy figures standing under the torchlights of Amphoreus’ otherwise dim alleyways. The scene unfolding before them leaves quite an unpleasant aftertaste in Alisa’s mouth when she swallows thickly. And now the fur of Shuhua’s restless tail doesn’t feel all that pleasant against Alisa’s skin amidst the heavy, warm night air.

“Is that who I think it is?” the foxian mumbles, a little confused tilt of her head, ears pressed tightly against her head.

“Please be quiet.” Alisa is trying to save them from being inevitably discovered, although her efforts go unappreciated, as Shuhua huffs, scandalized and offended.

“Hey, don’t shush me!” Despite being nothing but a whisper, the sheer force with which Shuhua delivers her line is nothing short of a scream. “You start sleeping in the same bed that smug, undercooked chicken wing and now you’re turning evil.”

Turning blind eye on the usual, albeit even more colorful, insults thrown Sunday’s way, Alisa covers Shuhua’s mouth with the palm of her hand, “Shush.”

Shuhua’s exasperated hissing is muffled, but it’s not audible enough to reach outside the little corner they’re hiding at. It’s for the better that it is that way, as the shadows grow nearer, heavy footsteps fall to a standstill under the darkness of a little shop across from the shelves covering them and Alisa can only pray the plants are enough to mask the bright fur of Shuhua’s tail.

The skirts on the back of your dress drag along the dusty ground and you don’t rush to lift them, slowly albeit deliberately walking past Mydei who remains standing near the bakery’s window. The annoyed crease between his eyebrows deepens as he catches up to you, stopping you by your forearm, the gentle touch not matching his permanent scowl.

Your gaze is planted firmly on the ground, someplace where your shadows intertwine. Mydei steps closer to you, hands moving along your skin until he holds your face in his hands, lifting your head up. “Why won’t you look at me?” He speaks differently. Less brash. Way slower and just as well-enunciated as Phainon was addressing you not so long ago. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset.”

“Of course I am, Mydeimos.” You talk just as quietly as you sing, with a tiny rasp of hesitation to your tone. Yet right now it’s mixed with something so bitterly vulnerable, it’s almost easy to forget that you are a taken woman. And with how compromising your position is, it’s all but effortless to misinterpret the situation for what it isn’t.

“I am immortal.” Mydei states plainly and you scoff.

He’s still holding your face in his hands despite your arms hanging limply by your sides. It’s hard to see under the shadows of twilight, but even in such darkness the hurt pooling in your eyes is difficult to miss. “Immortality does not take away the pain of death.”

“I am used to it.” It’s unclear whether Mydei is trying to convince you or himself, but either way it doesn’t work.

The bracelets on your arm clink against each other when you finally lift your hand to press your palm firmly to Mydei’s chest. “I told you already, didn’t I?” Your voice trembles like the strings of the harp, as if you are on the verge of tears. And maybe it is so, “Your ache is my agony. Your suffering is my anguish. I must live this life knowing I cannot aid you in your endeavors. History does not–”

Thumb against your lips, dipping ever so slightly into your parted mouth, Mydei interrupts your fervent rambling, “I wowed to battle fate for you. This hasn’t changed.” You are a taken woman yet with the way the Mydei so effortlessly throws earnest promises of eternal devotion your way, it’s easy to forget it is not he who you are officially involved with. “But Deliverer is better suited for that Coreflame than I am.”

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

“You cannot defy who you are.” You whisper dejectedly, not bothered by the mention of Phainon but the fact that Mydei refuses to change his mind. You give up then, tense posture going lax as you sigh heavily in defeat, “But who am I to deny your wishes?”

“My wishes?” Mydei questions, a victorious glint in his eyes. “I have a lot of those, you know.” He steps closer and you step back until you reach the wall, Mydei’s arm against the back of your head so you don’t accidentally hit yourself against the white bricks. “I am insatiable in my greed. Or so they say.”

He doesn’t wait for any response, just dips his head down and presses his lips against yours feverishly. You reciprocate, eager and yearning, all but melting against his body until there is no more empty space between you. But even then, he still draws you closer, free hands itching under the missing fabric on the front of your dress.

Taking your preoccupied state as an opportunity for escape, Alisa once again drags Shuhua into the darkness of the alleyway. There are no words exchanged until they are far out of your hearing range. Marmoreal Palace is relatively empty this time of day, and Alisa feels like she can finally breathe properly. So many things running through her mind, she has no idea where she should even begin. All that Alisa truly knows that it’s wrong. They shouldn’t have been there to see that. You shouldn’t have been doing any of that at all. And yet...

Shuhua, however, never holds back when she has to say something, “This wench!”

“Shuhua, please.” Trying to calm her friend down is futile, but Alisa is known to enjoy suffering to its fullest.

“I have to give it to her though.”  Shuhua huffs in irritation, dusting her tail off any cobwebs it gathered during her stay at the dusty corner of an alley. “How hard is it to swindle those two at the same time?”

Acutely aware that she’s doing nothing more than playing devil’s advocate, Alisa is desperately trying to rationalize the situation, “Maybe this all is a big misunderstanding…” She knows nobody is inherently good, but she's always trying to look only for the best in other people. And Alisa really doesn’t want to believe that either you or Mydei would betray Phainon in such a way. Logic, however, is much harder to argue with.

“Her tongue was in places mine can’t reach.” An irked scoff and a roll of her eyes, Shuhua crosses her arms over her chest. It’s hard to believe such a thing is possible but once again facts win over delusions. “We should tell him about it the first thing tomorrow.”

“Shuhua…” Not liking Alisa’s tone, the foxian throws her glare of disbelief prematurely, before any stupidity can even cross her mind. But as it usually happens, disapproval doesn’t stop Alisa from speaking and she truly has had enough of Shuhua’s bad decisions in the span of these couple of months to last her for another ten years. “I am not condoning her actions, but… I don’t think this is the right time to drop something like that on him. We truly don’t need any bad blood between those two, considering they are quite literally on a quest to kill a god.”

Shuhua blinks, canines biting harshly into her bottom lip. She’s clearly searching for something to counter Alisa’s argument with but can’t find anything of equal value to reason. Eventually giving up, Shuhua sighs dejectedly, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” Then she grins, a little manic and sort of troubling curve of her lips, as she cackles sarcastically, “We just have to kill a god, how hard can it be…”

Not harder than it was to kill an Aeon. But it’s better for Shuhua to never remember what exactly transpired inside the Realm or Repudiation.

Alisa can only hope that after all is said and done, she doesn’t have to act out on her side of the deal with Aglaea.

They meet you for the third time amongst the sea of passersby, the shining gold of your jewelry flickering with your every movement.

They spot you at Marmoreal Market not long after they successfully take Nikador’s Coreflame to the Vortex of Genesis. They pass by Melpomene, and despite calling out to her, she rushes past them without even a greeting, an annoyed growl falling from her lips as she casts one last glare in the direction of Marmoreal Diner. Confused, Shuhua follows her line of sight, ears perking up and tail wagging when she finally spots you amongst the crowd.

Against both of their better judgments, neither Alisa nor Shuhua told Phainon about their unfortunate discovery after they returned to Okhema. And considering he is still locked inside Nikador’s trial, it is for the better that he is not aware of your infidelity. This, however, is a perfect chance to finally confront you, not only about your unfaithfulness but also about the rumors floating around the Holy City.

After that night in the alleyway, Alisa couldn’t help but put her meddling skills to good use and sharpened her ears as much as possible. Castorice’s cryptic warning aside, the rumors about your person are hard to ignore when one actually listens to what the public has to say. Turns out, people seem to have very mixed feelings towards you. Some deem you an important, vital figure to Okhema’s wellbeing in such trying times: a famous bard, an acclaimed hymnwriter, a renowned poetess, a revered High Priestess of the Temple of Eternal Fire. Others think of you as a rotten fruit, slowly corrupting the well-oiled dynamic not only between the Chrysos Heirs themselves but also between Aglaea and the Council of Elders.

And as it so happens, everyone is acutely aware of your not-so-secret affair with the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. All except Phainon himself. Even stranger thing is that despite your unfaithfulness being a well-known fact, nobody is rushing to inform the hero of it. Whether he lives under a rock or his devotion to you is that unshakable is unclear but whatever the reason for it is, Alisa can’t begin to sympathize with either you or Mydei.

Neither can Aglaea, it seems.

Goldweaver’s threads wrap themselves around Shuhua’s arm, planting her firmly in place, “I strongly advise you to stay away from that woman, Shuhua.”

The foxian clenches her teeth, and Alisa decides to intervene before things escalate someplace none of them wants to, “Lady Aglaea, good morning.”

Heavy blink of her sightless eyes, Aglaea turns to face Alisa albeit she can never truly pinpoint her location, “Good morning, child.” Despite the friendly, polite tone, Aglaea’s detachment from humanity prevents her from truly igniting the warmth in her voice. Alisa can’t blame her for it, neither can she condemn the woman for trying to protect her home by any means possible. Although now Alisa has a faint suspicion that her odd behavior during your performance had nothing to do with the Astral Express but everything to do with you. “Please heed my advice and stay clear of her, there is nothing the Temple can offer you that I cannot.”

“Of course, Lady Aglaea.” Alisa nods, agreeing with the woman without even trying to argue her case. Sometimes to reject something you need to accept it first, and who would understand that better than a daughter of Repudiation? “Please take care.”

Aglaea bows her head in a shallow goodbye, disappearing into the busy crowd just like Melpomene did not so long ago. Shuhua, still trying to come to terms with the fact that there might be a target painted on her back once more, gives Alisa a suspicious side glance.

"She's still spying on us, isn’t she?” Shuhua asks carefully. She is yet to get used to this new dynamic of being the one following Alisa’s lead for once. But to live is to survive and adapting is an integral part of survival, and Shuhua really doesn't want to meet her end here because of some light snooping.

Alisa shrugs, mumbling a barely audible agreement. Just because Aglaea’s golden thread cannot see her, doesn’t mean her spies cannot hear her. Breaking their agreement with the leader of Chrysos Heirs will put her family in danger, but despite his smug, overconfident attitude, Phainon is a good man. Sunday might be right: her kindness is her weakness ready to be exploited; but he’s not here to stop her, so what else Alisa is supposed to do?

“Lady [Name]!” It has been a long time since she needed to scream to get someone’s attention.

The people give Alisa an odd look or two, some stop to search for the source of a disturbance. You, however, head straight ahead. Box with honey cakes securely pressed to your chest, you never turn their way even when Alisa calls out to you for the second time. Some passersby give them confused side-glances; one quick look over your shoulder at the commotion, you never notice the outlanders, swept by the busy crowd of the market. Walking past them casually, you leave with only the scent of sunlit oranges, ripe pomegranates, and warm cinnamon clinging to the heavy air long after the flowing tails of your skirts disappear from view.

And so, you escape. And so, Aglaea wins.

“Can’t believe she ignored us like that!” Shuhua hisses. Angry and disappointed, she curses under her breath, icy glare digging daggers into the dense crowd of the market.

Something isn’t right at all about this. The omnipresent gaze of Repudiation calls for rejection of all, and even on the endless path of Trailblaze Alisa does not stop defying authority. Mokosha, Penacony, Amphoreus. Her guilt, her love, her longing. Karina, Sunday, Aglaea. To live is to survive. Survival calls for all sorts of risks.

“Maybe she didn’t notice us…” Alisa cannot see the golden threads, they dissolve into dust all around her, but she can spot them weaving through the market, trailing the scent of sunkissed oranges and sugary pomegranate you left behind.

Shuhua cannot see what Alisa can, however. “Stop playing devil’s advocate, I locked eyes with that wench.” But Shuhua wasn’t brought up with the oath of rejection woven into her every breath, so it’s understandable that she does not condone this doubt festering inside Alisa’s heart.

“I think it’s better we just talk to Lord Phainon.” Alisa knows it’s the only right thing to do. The only way to force you to be honest with yourself. The only way to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. The only way to not let Aglaea win ever again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shuhua grits her teeth, even more vexed than she was before coming here. “Now come on, I need breakfast, or someone dies.”

Alisa doesn’t doubt it. She just hopes it won’t be Shuhua herself.

The golden thread trembles, yet its presence remains.

They meet you for the fourth time illuminated by the sunlight and scorched by fire, as you melt the ice of the memories of the world long gone.

It’s dark inside the Temple of Silence. Nothing but long corridors, dimply lit by torches burning deep purple flames, and imagery of the night sky painted in crimson and gold all over the white walls. Phainon is leading the way with well-practiced movements, all while entertaining Stelle’s barrage of ridiculous questions and Dan Heng’s polite yet distant commentary on some of the more captivating things that the hero has to say.

Shuhua is restless, even more so than usual since they got stranded on Amphoreus. Alisa fears it might be Shuhua's breaking point, but she will cross that bridge when she gets there and for now, they have far more pressing matters to deal with. Confronting you in your own temple is not going to be easy, but with Stelle and Dan Heng now involved in this against their will, things took a turn for the worse.

Noticing just how big the distance between them and Phainon grew, Shuhua exasperatedly mumbles something under her breath and picks up her pace, dragging Alisa along by her elbow. Phainon, finally stopping near the intricately carved door at the end of the hallway, is still entertaining Stelle’s curiosity without complaints. Shuhua throws him an apprehensive side eye, irked glow of her eyes spelling nothing but trouble for everyone involved, but Phainon misinterprets it as something it is not.

“You seem nervous.” He’s wrong, everyone except him is acutely aware of it, yet nobody is racing to correct his assumption. “I assure you, there is no reason for you to feel anxious.”

“It’s just…” Shuhua begins, a strained smile on her face, “It’s a little dark here, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Should have warned you.” Phainon rubs the back of his head, an apologetic smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Well, don’t worry. It’s very bright inside.”

Three light knocks. The dark, purple flames flicker to the rhythm of the drumming of Phainon’s knuckles. The heavy door opens on its own, light drowning the dimply lit corridor. For a split second Alisa’s vision goes blurry, as if blinded by the brightness of the light. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the new environment, but when they do, she almost wishes she stayed blinded forever. She should have known better than to trust Shuhua’s mad ideas, they’re always more trouble than they’re worth.

Shuhua’ grins, “Oh, isn’t it just great.” Dan Heng is quick to silence her before she drops any more unnecessary comments, but he can’t stop a little gasp that escapes Stelle’s parted lips.

Alisa diverts her gaze from the scene of the crime, trying to focus on something else other than the impending fight between an immortal man turned unwilling demigod and a hero acting as the muse to of almost all of your ballads. Eyes wide and pupils blown, Shuhua bites her lip to stiffen any more sounds coming from her, although most of it just seems like the foxian woman is trying to suppress inevitable cackle which is bound to worsen the tension even more.

Mydei’s arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, just to give enough support so that you don’t accidentally topple over and drop the goblet full of pomegranate juice all over the sofa. Or all over him to be precise. On your knees between his parted legs, one gold painted arm pressed against his naked chest, you’re carefully pouring juice into his mouth. He doesn’t as much as blink when some escapes his lips, sliding along his skin and leaving the dark crimson trail until it gets lost in what little fabric is covering his chest. Mydei simply slides his gloved hand along the expanse of your bare back, moving your hair away from your neck and bringing your face closer to his.

Dropping the empty goblet in your hand, you let it hit the white marble of the room with the deafening noise that makes everyone in the room flinch. You don’t seem to mind the noise, just sink even closer to Mydei, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and when you part at last, you glide your tongue along the crimson trail. Then you sink your teeth into the slope of his neck, an apologetic flick of your tongue over the rapidly vanishing indent of your teeth in his skin. Mydei leans his head against the arm of the sofa, half lidded eyes watching as you leave a trail of bites along his chest.

Phainon, for all his recklessness and flair, is awfully calm even when he positions himself in a way to cover most of your exposed body from their prying eyes. Posture lax, no tension in his shoulders, he doesn’t seem astonished or betrayed, or even simply angry. If anything, Phainon seems almost embarrassed to subject his guests to such an indecent display of affection between his – girlfriend? wife? Alisa isn’t even sure who you even are to him with the way the hero keeps addressing you – and his brother in arms. Knuckles rubbing against his forehead, Phainon clears his throat.

Mydei, unbothered by the presence of another man in your private chambers, doesn’t spare Phainon even a quick glance, “You’re late, Deliverer.”

Canines digging into her lips, Shuhua is barely holding herself together from cackling. Alisa has to admit, that all of this is sort of funny in some twisted way. But all of this snooping around just for them to end up here, intruding into whatever you three knowingly have going on. Oh, how embarrassing indeed.

Phainon, back still shielding most of the view on your nude body, tugs his coat off, “Please inform [Name] that I brought in our esteemed guests for an appointment.”

With a deep, annoyed sigh, Mydei finally looks over his shoulder, “Really now, hero? Couldn’t find any other time?” You lift your head, watching him with mild worry in your eyes as if you just now noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Three light taps on your shoulder, Mydei whispers something extremely slowly and you nod, sitting up straight, moving your hair to cover your chest. “Or person, for that matter?”

Phainon shrugs dismissively, as if trying to play his mistake off as something that is not his fault and then throws his coat towards Mydei, “They seemed really eager to meet our Lady of Eternal Fire.”

Mydei scoffs, catching the piece of clothing and dropping it over your shoulders the next very second, “Oh, I’m sure they were.”

You slip your arms into the sleeves of the coat and get up from the sofa, “Phainon.”

Despite the tender kiss you give him, you acknowledge the hero with some sort of detachment when you say this name of his. But it must be because you, as Castorice pointed cryptically all the way back at the bathhouse, are the only one who knows of Phainon as a son of Aedes Elysiae, and his true name is far dearer to you than the one he chose for himself.

Then you divert your attention to the members of Astral Express, a peculiar smile curving your lips, “Mysterious outlanders from beyond the stars. Welcome to the Temple of Silence.” You beacon them to follow you to the large marble table in the center of the room with a gentle wave your hand, the sleeve of Phainon’s coat flapping as you do so, “Please take a seat.”

They do as you say, albeit a little hesitantly, and settle into a long ottoman, just barely big enough to fit the four of them. Phainon joins you on your side of the table, immediately resting his head on your shoulder, and despite reluctantly leaving the comfort of the sofa, Mydei remains standing behind you with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What brings you here?” You ask, hand running through Phainon’s hair. “Against Aglaea’s… insistent suggestions to stay away from me, too.” There’s a little teasing to your hushed tone. You are far more playful than Alisa initially thought, way less intimidating too.

Despite Stelle expectantly watching Shuhua, nobody says anything. What is there even left to say now that Shuhua can’t hold your trysts against you for her own entertainment? And neither she nor Alisa herself were here with any hopes of actually getting in contact with the Express.

Dan Heng, however, tired of constant childish tantrums of his temperamental fox friend, takes one for the team, “We were looking for a way to contact our friends back home, and Phainon lead us here. He told us there’s a chance you can help us reach through the barrier to contact them.”

One moment. Then two. Three and then four. You say nothing, your puzzled gaze drifting from Dan Heng to Shuhua, to Stelle, to Alisa and then back to Dan Heng. You mutter something under your breath; quick, single word sentences, as if you are trying to decipher something but keep failing at doing so. Phainon lifts his head from your shoulder, once again oddly guilty shine in his blue eyes.

It’s tense, unnerving kind of confused silence that never seems to settle and only continues to grow. “Deliverer.” Mydei sighs, heavy and exhausted, “You didn’t tell them.”

The frustration in Mydei’s usually mildly agitated tone is almost palpable, and Phainon chuckles awkwardly, “I thought it was obvious.”  Then he quickly gets onto his feet to leave the table only to return a couple of seconds later with a heap of yellowish parchment, a bottle of ink and four quills. He sets everything on the marble surface carefully and you thank him, passing the paper to the group. “Apparently not. My apologies, I must have complicated things way more than I initially assumed.”

A simple complication doesn’t even begin to cover the level of mental gymnastics you three forced them into, but even Shuhua’s confused ear twitch is met with Mydei’s almost-warranted exasperation, “Don’t look so damn lost, outlanders. You’ve never met a deaf person before?”

Oh, complicated indeed. Alisa was right to doubt everything, but with the way Shuhua’s ears fall flat against her head she can guess the guilt of assuming things is catching up even to her.

“It’s quite alright.” You dismiss the sudden pitiful glances with a careless shake of your head, instead pointing to the parchment you offered to them. Phainon once again takes a seat next to you, although his posture is far less relaxed than it was before, observing carefully as Stelle twirls the quill in her hand. “Before we begin, you must give an offering to the Temple. Please describe a memory you cherish and feed it to the fire.”

Dan Heng gives you an apprehensive look, doubting your words despite doing exactly what you told him to. Stelle does the same, quickly scribbling something on the paper and dropping it into the purple flames flickering in a large ceremonial goblet installed into the indent in the middle of the table. It takes some time for Alisa to think of a memory she is willing to share with a stranger, and next to her Shuhua grins, folding her paper neatly in half and throwing it into the fire as soon as she can.

Mydei rolls his eyes at such behavior, finally giving up his watch to sit down next to you. He tugs the armored gloves off, placing them neatly near the ottoman and rests his hand on the marble, fingers barely grazing the edge of the ceremonial goblet. You give him a pointed look, the one of a concerned warning, but he dismisses you with a slight, teasing tug to the pointed tip of your elf-like ear poking through the dark strands if your hair. You are about to continue playing a losing game when Phainon once again drops his head on your shoulder, lifting your left hand up to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. Those two, despite all of their differences, know how to distract you when it works to their advantage and succeed in doing so with the ease of a well-oiled machine.

Giving up, you return your attention back to your guests with a fleeting, barely audible apology, then dip your free hand into the fire and pull out five cloudy crystals, dropping them into a silver bowl placed in front of you. Picking the magenta gemstone up, you bring the copper colored one along with it, clicking them against each other. Phainon laughs, the joke is lost on not only Alisa but also on the rest of the Astral Express, although even Mydei seems to get it.

“You two are very special. One is an empty slate, unable to be recorded.”  You begin suddenly, dark eyes drifting from Alisa to Stelle intently. “Another blessed by the gaze of your local gods. What a peculiar life you have, Stelle.”

Upon hearing her own name, despite never introducing herself, Stelle asks a couple of questions you are never meant to catch nor would ever want to answer. You just toss the stones back into the fire and pick a green one, discarding this gem almost instantly as well.

“Rebirth? How interesting…” Looking at Dan Heng, you are searching for something Alisa isn’t sure you can find. But with how the Vidyadhara goes rigid upon hearing your words, something tells Alisa it is not only a single cherished memory of theirs you now have access to. “I am sure that whatever this jade abacus you are thinking about is, it will not help you to leave this world, Dan Heng.”

Smugness on Shuhua’s face deflates exponentially once you get to the pale peachy crystal, her scheme backfiring on her so unpredictably. “Oh, an odd choice for sure, and yet…” You quirk your brow, chuckling lightly under your breath and leaning forward to pass the stone directly into Shuhua’s hands. “Who would have thought that man had it in him to…”

Embarrassed, Shuhua hurriedly hides the peach-colored gem in the pocket of her shorts. You don’t say much more, just sit quietly with an oddly familiar glint in your half-lidded eyes, well-manicured nail in between your teeth. Phainon says something that is lost not only on you but also on the rest of the group. You swipe your tongue over your painted lips, crimson hue glistening even more under the glow of sunlight, and pick up the quill to write a couple of quick notes just to pass them to Phainon as soon as the last drop of ink hits the parchment.

Phainon skims over what you written, a choked cough contracting through his chest, and he crumbles the paper carelessly. “Shuhua’s chosen memory sparked sudden inspiration in me.” You explain then, a teasing lull to your voice, while your nimble fingers straighten the parchment Phainon so thoughtlessly ruined. “I am sure it will not disappoint you either, husband.”

“Aren’t you forgetting anyone?” Mydei asks, fingers that were toying with the edge of the ceremonial goblet now completely engulfed by the purple flames.

“This one sees the appeal of wild cats just like I do…” You say distantly, a subtle shift to the air around you as you tuck the note you wrote into the pocket of Phainon’s coat. “So I have something else for you in mind, Mydeimos.””

 Despite shedding light onto the meaning of Phainon’s bizarre joke and thoroughly embarrassing Shuhua even further with the knowledge of all her previous affairs, your provocative tone contradicts your appearance. Even while replying to Mydei as if you can hear him, you do not look a slightest bit happy or relieved to be able to perceive sound once again. Instead, you hastily free yourself from Phainon’s hold, swatting Mydei’s hand away from the fire and cradling it close to your chest.

Unlike you, the prince does not return from the flame unscathed, although the burnt skin mends itself almost instantly. You were right, immortality does not take away the pain of death, yet Mydei endures the turmoil with ease. True to his promise of battling fate for your love, he is willingly walking into the scorching fires just for a chance of you hearing his voice.

Love of such kind can bring all realms to ruin, yet it is the only kind that you can accept.

As if trying to brighten the mood, a little pink creature that has been following Stelle around ever since her conversation with Oronyx, finally shows itself. Curiously peeking out from behind Stelle’s shoulder, Mem says something that only she can decipher, and receiving a lackluster shrug from the Nameless it slowly floats up to you, fluffy tail swatting Phainon across the face. You watch it with an oddly nostalgic sense of longing littered all over your face like gold dust, strained fingers gripping Mydei’s hand harder. If you know something about Mem’s origin – which Alisa does not doubt even for a second – you keep it to yourself and let the pink fairy playfully bully Phainon some more, until it is completely satisfied and settles on top of his broad shoulders, tail wagging excitedly.

“Are all memokeepers so… eccentric?” Shuhua whispers right into Alisa’s ear and it startles her, dragging her away from her lingering thoughts. “What's up with that fifth memory bubble, anyway?”

Albeit a welcomed distraction, the idea of you being a pathstrider of Remembrance makes things even more convoluted than they initially were, although that power of yours is easily justified by that simple explanation. And considering how easily Fuli extended Their blessings to Stelle, it would be only natural that They gaze upon someone so closely intertwined with memories.

Soft smile of yearning all but completely gone, you look away, returning to the matter at hand. Last, bright pink crystal left lying in the silver bowl, you disregard its existence as if it's just a figment of your imagination. The subtle shift of the air does not seem so subtle anymore.

“Thank you for your kind offerings, Trailblazers.” You speak at last, although there is some sort of tragic finality to the way you deliver your line that tells Alisa you cannot fulfill their wishes. “I must disappoint you, however. What you desire of me is far too ambitious.” Alisa already expected as much, so it does little to disappoint her, but a discouraged sigh that Shuhua and Stelle share hurts her nonetheless. Yet your deeply apologetic expression seems extremely sincere, as you bow your head, “I am not a Chrysos Heir, neither am I gazed upon by an Aeon like the two of you. I am a mere preserver of truthful memories. A dedicated historian, if you will.”

Despite not truly acknowledging yourself as a pathstrider of Remembrance – knowing little of Aeons beyond the information you gathered from their memories – you almost openly recognize yourself as a memokeeper. Just as odd as Black Swan and Reca, albeit a little less suspicious in your intentions and far less invested into the overarching plot of this adventure.

Mydei seems to find some amusement in your claims, however, if a muffled snort coming from his person is anything to go by. He tugs on your ear again, the gold chain hooked to a tiny circular earring in your cartilage dangling as he does so. It's weaved with crimson and navy gems, uncannily reminiscent of Mydei’s own jewelry and the sentimental charm of it is oddly heartwarming.

A huff from you makes Phainon stiffen a laugh, yet another inside joke that goes right above the heads of the ignorant Nameless. He presses his lips against your knuckles once more, far more reserved in his affections than he was back at the bathhouse. Mem shuffles on the spot in his shoulder, tail wagging faster at the sudden disturbance as a bright pink paw hits Phainon square in the face. You giggle, murmuring a couple of teasing apologies in Mem’s stead, yet do not reprimand Stelle to keep her companion at bay. You simply watch Phainon, overflowing fondness in your eyes threatening to spill over.

When you do turn to look at Stelle, your gaze hardens exponentially, “Natural enemy of Goldweaver I might be, but I cannot restore memories like your little friend here does, nor can my power reach beyond these skies. I am truly sorry for wasting your precious time.”

Guilty as you seem to be for not being able to help them, there is something else to the way to shift in your seat. The hand with which you were holding onto Mydei so tightly just a moment ago drops on your lap. Phainon quits his pretend battle with Mem to give you a once over; nothing too out of the ordinary, yet it strikes a suspicion of doubt, nonetheless.

The last memory bubble remains untouched, but from the corner of your eye you keep a vigilant watch over the pink hazy crystal. A memokeeper always has their secrets and all their cards are always tucked close to their chests, under a hundred locks where the destructive forces of time cannot reach them. And right now, you too are hiding something in plain sight, masking your own troubles under the grievances of the Nameless travelers.

“Your time ran out, outlanders.” Mydei states suddenly, no room for discussion left in the way he gets up on his feet to stride towards the exist. “I’ll see you out.”

Stelle is about to say something when Alisa interrupts her, “At least we tried, right?”  It's a rhetorical question and she can only hope her friends get the hint and listen to what she has to say for once. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Lady [Name]. We will be off.”

They do. Confused and a tad bit worried, they follow Mydei to the door. You wave them goodbye, but don't get up to see them off. Neither does Phainon. Spirits low, Mem hops off his shoulder to float back to Stelle’s side.

Three knocks. The doors open on their own. One last glance at you that Alisa is quick enough to steal reminds her how easily her heart aches for others. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Whatever you saw in that last memory was enough for you to keep your knowledge to yourself. And it is for the best that you can trust yourself to make such decisions. Alisa isn't sure she can say that about herself and not turn out to be a liar.

Mydei is far less of a competent guide than Phainon is. The journey is far too fast and now it's evident why this place is called the Temple of Silence. None of the questions they had were answered, none if them were even brought up in the first place. At least Shuhua can sleep soundly now with her conscience clear of any doubt that she's secondhand complacent in someone else’s infidelity. It doesn't seem like enough, however.

So even when Mydei comes to an abrupt stop near the gates of the Temple, Alisa has half a mind to ask at least something. She knows he won't indulge her curiosity, the prince is not Phainon and cares not about faux pleasantries of keeping up with appearances. But as it turns out, Mydei was itching to share a word or two with them already.

“Deliverer is too soft on you, so I’m going to say it myself.” It's one way to put it, but who are the humble Trailblazers to argue with a disgraced prince of a fallen nation. “This is the last time you come here for favors of such matter. That fool might deny it and say we and the Dressmaster reached a compromise, but he made his choice a long time ago. And my pact with Aglaea is fragile and I hold little to no attachment to either the Goldweaver or the Holy Maiden.” A slow yet steady pace at which a warning turns into a thinly veiled threat, “He’s delusional and living on borrowed time. I am immortal and I cannot forget. If you bring danger to her doorstep, I will pay you tenfold.”

Nobody responds. What is even there to say to such a declaration? Even more questions than before, Alisa can't help but wonder just how exactly Phainon and Mydei came to an agreement when it came to sharing your love and how you had it in your heart heart to tie both of them down to your soul so selfishly.

Not like Mydei would ever give her a clear explanation. No longer truly human, Mydei owes the Nameless even less than he did when he was just a Chrysos Heir. All have their own memories to preserve and it's none of their business, anyway.

“You keep bringing up Aglaea but what exactly did we do that's illegal?” Stelle is rarely as tactful as she should be, however. Maybe that's why she gets what she wants so easily. Audacity gets you places tact cannot. “Is your… arrangement not up to her moral standards? Or is it about the–”

Mydei chuckles bitterly, a sarcastic undertone coloring his humorless laughter and Stelle shuts her mouth quickly. “If there's someone who has those so-called arrangements you speak of, then it would be the Goldweaver. You should ask her about it if you are that invested into other people’s private lives.”  For the first time in a long time it feels like they finally crossed the line with the meddling in affairs that do not concern them. Mydei doesn't allow them to wallow in self pity, unceremoniously showing the group to the gates. “That being said, you’ve exhausted your question quota here. Leave.”

No goodbyes are exchanged but nobody expects the prince to send them off with a warm pat on the back. Shuhua, once again melancholic, dejectedly scratches on the shiny fabric of the pincushion strapped to one of the belts of her outfit. Mem is babbling away about something that leaves Stelle in less than elated mood. Dan Heng will surely scold them for snooping when they return to their room, but for now Alisa must embrace the shame.

“And learn to hide better next time, outlanders.”

To live is to suffer. To dream is to survive.

The tears you wept into the silver bowl cover the pink gemstone like ocean water drowns the corpses of the fallen. Even in death, you yearn to preserve a memory that remains nothing but a distant dream in the eyes of those who remember.

Maybe killing an Aeon is easier than salvaging broken pieces of rapidly melting ice.

Only one way to find out.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Saint Valentine

You watch as your Word Bearer, Aziel, and his group go down to the basement for their regular ritual. Little did you know they were planning to summon someone to ask for some odd advice.

Author’s Note: I have a Word Bearer OC now!

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

God love him, Aziel is very helpful and loyal (daresay a somewhat like a dog), and is a wonderful hype-man, but sometimes he can get a bit absurd and uncomfortably zealous about it. Not to mention him trying to convert you to believing the Four, whoever they are. You’re not particularly religious, but you’re of the opinion people can believe whatever they want to so as long as it doesn’t hurt others. You can take only so much chatter of worship of you and his gods after all. It got to the point you had to tell him to cut down the words of praise and worship lest you think he is being insincere. He was rather insulted by the fact that you questioned his sincerity for you, but he made an effort to not do that as much. His nicknames, however, never stopped.

You figured all this may be due to his loneliness and the lack of company of his peers, so you were relieved when Aziel found a group of Word Bearers to hang out with. Better for him to go out and socialize rather than pour all his focus on you. It wouldn’t do him much good to have too much of a codependent relationship with you.

Them together were an odd bunch, they all seem to look so different! Some seem to be living armor, while others, like Aziel, have more human like forms but with horns protruding from their head, looking the living embodiments of demons or monsters. They visited weekly, typically to discuss their own theological literature from what little you can understand in gothic, pray, and chant. It seemed no different than the Sunday worship that your christian friend took you to once. Sometimes listening to their chanting puts you to sleep at night.

Today’s visit was the same. The Word Bearers passed by with a nod or a wave as they made their way down to the basement as usual. You looked at your own Astartes carrying a box in his arms. Curious, you asked him, “What do you have in there?”

“Items for our ritual, my darling goddess.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his pet names, but frown at the mention of a ritual, “Please tell me that a half-decomposed animal carcass is not part of it.” the memory of a decomposing deer carcass that stunk up the house for several days made you want to wretch. Where did Aziel acquire such a thing any way? You wonder.

Aziel nuzzled you and reassuringly replied, “I promise it is nothing of that sort.”

Your shoulders sagged with relief and turned to start filling the kettle, “The usual for you guys?”

“Yes. Thank you, my radiant light.” The Word Bearer leaned down and kissed your temple. You giggled and smiled at him, “You’re welcome. You go ahead, tea and mocha will be ready up here when you’re done.”

Aziel purred as he nuzzled you again then left. You started to brew very strong coffee. You stuffed the massive tea strainer full with rooibos tea mixture, set out honey, a large tin of powder hot chocolate, and a jar of dried chili flakes. They had a preference for sweet and strongly flavored drinks given how much they enjoyed the mocha you made. Aziel and his friends would take a while and when they start their ending chants, it would be the perfect time to boil water.

You were reading a novel on your tablet when a cloying smoky scent filled your nostrils as if something was baked way too long. Was something burning? Smoke billowed out when you opened the door to the basement.

“Aziel?” You called out worriedly.

You coughed and waved the smoke away from your face. Concerned and forgetting that your Astartes could withstand a lot more than the average human, you rushed downstairs.

“We summon you, St. Valentine!”

You paused when you heard them say the name “St. Valentine”, catching on that they were trying to summon something or someone. When the smoke cleared, you were left standing awkwardly on the stairs, the group of Word Bearers staring at you, all positioned around a summoning circle drawn with what you hope was red paint. Three of them were kneeling in prayer, one was holding a book aloft, and another one was swinging an incense burner pouring with smoke. Aziel stood in front of them as if directing the entire ritual. A heart shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses laid in the middle. It was clear the St. Valentine they were trying to summon was the St. Valentine of Valentine’s Day. Not that it did anything.

“Sorry… Aziel. I… I thought… something was burning.” You stuttered in embarrassment, quickly turning to go back upstairs, “I’ll go, sorry I interrupted you.”

Suddenly, you felt yourself falling forward into an armoured embrace.

“Don’t leave. Please, my guiding star.” Aziel rubbed his face against your hair like a cat seeking affection.

“But don’t you have to finish the ritual?”

His grip tightened, scared that you would disappear if he let go, “We are finished, but the ritual was not successful.” He mumbled.

You felt bad for breaking their focus at such a critical moment thus contributing to their failure, “I’m sorry…” you started.

As if he knew already what you’re going to say, Aziel reassured you, “You have no fault in this. It is much more difficult to summon anything in ancient Terra. Do not fret.”

His fire-patterned eyes held a glimmer of humour and something else as you looked at him, “We summoned you after all.” he chuckled.

You snorted and laughed, “I don’t think that counts. Why are you guys trying to summon St. Valentine?”

“We wish to ask for his wisdom in properly courting our bonded.” Aziel replied earnestly.

Your mouth dropped open. Heat spread across your face and your heart skipped a few beats. You stammered, “You… I… um… you want to court me?” Aziel was very devoted to you and at times a little too devoted, but you thought it was just the way he was as a Word Bearer. Never in your wildest imagination did you think that Aziel had feelings for you to the point he would try to summon St. Valentine to ask for advice. It was a lot to take in. Perhaps you’ll take the lead and rein back Aziel a bit, knowing how gungho he could get

The fact that his buddies went along with him to do so just made the situation even more ridiculous. You laughed and reached to rubbed the smudge of dirt off the base of one of his horns. Purring loudly, Aziel leaned into your touch. You then cupped his face with your hands stroking the scarified mark on his left cheek, “I am very flattered. But…”

Aziel’s face fell.

His face brightened once again when you pecked his nose with a quick kiss, “You silly man. I was about to say let’s talk about how I want to be courted and we can go from there.”

If your Word Bearer had a tail, he would be wagging it in happy excitement, “You are saying ‘Yes’?” he asked.

“Yes. Now, go clean up and bring the chocolate and flowers up with you. Then we’ll chat. I’m sure it will help your brothers as well.”

Aziel gently pressed his lips against yours, “Of course, my lovely moon lily.” before releasing you from his grasp.

[ces-nenuphars]

A Fear Even Greater: BSD Ch. 121 vs. BEAST Ch. 4

I was reading the new chapter today and I couldn't help but notice some similarities to BEAST that I wanted to share. I'm sure I'm not the first person to notice this nor do I usually do this kind of analysis post but I thought it was interesting and I'd like to share so please bear with me!

BSD CH. 121 SPOILER WARNING

I've highlighted the segments from each work that I think are thematically relevant to each other in the same colours because my brain works that way, but if yours doesn't don't worry - I will explain:

In YELLOW we have Atsushi's instinct to flee in the face of the enemy. I touch on this a bit more later on but BEAST!Atsushi is further along this thought process than canon!Atsushi. B!Atsushi seems mostly afraid of pain and violence while canon!Atsushi is more despondent. He's lost hope and had his spirit broken from watching his surrogate family die in front of him (understandably, poor baby)

In GREEN we have Dazai acknowledging/calling out Atsushi's cowardice. BEAST!Dazai is mostly describing how Atsushi used to be while canon!Dazai is snapping Atsushi out of his current doom-spiral.

He does this in most of his other hallucination appearances, not dissimilar to his interaction with Atsushi in Ch. 25.

In PURPLE we have the core of this whole rambling post (*´▽`*) There really isn't any contrast in these two, both B!Dazai and canon!Dazai are saying the same thing here.

Which brings us to CYAN where we see how the purple bits deviate slightly with context. It's a minor difference but B!Dazai lists the things that Atsushi used to fear (pain, violence, etc.) but canon!Dazai lists the qualities that Atsushi feels he's lacking (courage and hope). B!Atsushi is already able to use this "technique" (for lack of a better term) in combat, likely because he was exposed to terrifying situations earlier and more frequently than canon!Atsushi and has had more time to adapt to them (again, poor baby [╥﹏╥])

Now in RED we skip ahead a bit in the BEAST chapter to Dazai giving Atsushi his next directive. B!Dazai uses Atsushi to enact his plan and (eventually) bring Atsushi and Akutagawa together while canon!Dazai urges Atsushi to compartmentalize and focus on saving the people that he's still able to save.

Canon!Dazai's request is reminiscent of Oda's final words to him which - knowing Asagiri - could very well be intentional even if this is obviously not the "real Dazai" but rather the manifestation of some part of Atsushi's inner thoughts or Byakko (personally my money's on the tiger theory but we'll see). The Oda/Dazai/Atsushi/Akutagawa parallels will never stop and I'm here for it tbh.

[Dark Era excerpt from this translation from @nkhrchy]

Which brings us to MAGENTA (Could I have done these in chromatic order? Yes. Did I only realize that after typing it all out? Absolutely.) In both cases at this point Atsushi comes to a realization and I think the difference in what that realization is really drives home how well BEAST uses alternate universe to emphasize characterization in canon. Some of this is based on my assumptions about the final page of Ch. 121 and is therefore at risk of being jossed next month BUT I think that what canon!Atsushi is realizing in the final panel ("who you really are") is that this Dazai apparition comes from The Tiger. If it isn't Byakko explicitly I think it's fair to say that it's coming from somewhere within Atsushi himself. So, that being said, let me explain a little bit: B!Atsushi's only recourse is to take refuge in Dazai's plans/orders. His "greater fear" stems from an instance when he deviated from those orders and as a result he feels safest behind the bulwark of going along with Dazai's will. Not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it makes sense considering what B!Atsushi has experienced up to that point. Canon!Atsushi, however, is (I assume) realizing that the safety and reassurance - however harsh it may seem - of the Dazai in his head has actually been coming from himself the entire time. I think it's safe to say that whether it's his subconscious or Byakko, this apparition takes the shape of Dazai because that's who Atsushi trusts during times of crisis; that's the voice he's desperately wishing he could hear. Ultimately canon!Atsushi is in a much better place (despite... everything lol) because he's able to recognize his own internal strength instead of clinging to the safety he sees in Dazai. B!Atsushi does eventually start this process after Dazai fires him and Kyouka (and then steps off the roof of HQ RIP) but he has to take the time first to heal from the anxiety his violent upbringing inflicted on him (quite understandably - let's all say it together: poor babey T_T) There's more I could say about canon!Akutagawa undergoing a similar process re:Dazai but this post is too long! So I won't ♡

OKAY! My brain has never been satisfied with using one word when I could use ten so if you made it to the end thank you and I'm sorry ♡ I am not a writer and doing this reminded me why!! So I will definitely stick to drawing pictures (I'm almost finished one I swear! I'm like a plant, I wither into nothing in the winter months)

[tunakitchen]

revolutionary girl utena is so good. if you know that you can get through all the generally grim content, i promise its so worth it... in the end it is a hopeful show. among other things [yurious, feminist, fundamentally about the need for change and the breaking of all social expectation]

[stainedglassvariations]

Morning Showers

Non-sexual intimacy, sharing an early morning shower, GN!MC

Zayne doesn’t flinch when he hears you opening the shower door, already pressing himself into the corner so you have room to wriggle inside. His shower is really too small for this, but he can’t find it in him to care when you press yourself to his front; eyes still shut from the early hour. In a minute or two, you’ll start to wake up, insisting on lathering his hair if only for the simple amusement of styling it up, and he’ll run the loofa down your soft back after. When you get out, he’ll step aside so you can do your skin care, and you’ll tell him which tie he should wear while watching him through the mirror. Your little morning ritual ends with lips against his cheek, drops of water dripping down onto his collar, and the rest of the day seems to go by just a bit faster.

Xavier is the one to follow you in, his arms around your waist as he sleepily follows you through the apartment. You help him pull his sleep shirt over his head, let him hold onto you as he steps out of his sweats and boxers, and brace his weight against your back as you adjust the water to the perfect temperature. When you step into the water, you have the showerhead angled so he can rest his cheek on your shoulder without being drowned. You always wind up a little late to work on these mornings as you spend most of the time running your hands up and down the length of his spine. 

Rafayel badgers you into it at first, but now you can’t imagine a week without at least one morning spent in his ridiculous walk-in shower. He plasters himself against you, complaining about the water temperature but never re-adjusting the knobs, and demands that you wash his hair. In retaliation, you steal away with a bottle of his expensive body wash as if you don’t see the grin that stretches across his face when he smells it on you three days later. The mornings you shower together are playful and sweet, with soap bubbles being blown and water flicked into each other’s faces. By the time you get out, you’re pruned and slightly overheated while he looks unfairly refreshed and moisturized. 

Sylus carries you in on the mornings you have no desire to get out of bed. His hands are gentle as they take off your clothes, big palms keeping you warm against the early morning chill. He sits you between his legs, moving the showerhead over your body before getting a nice lather with the bodywash he made you pick out weeks before. You almost fall back asleep leaning against his thigh while he massages your shoulders, barely aware when he reaches down to lift you back up against him so he can wash your legs. The robe he wraps you in after he’s done is sinfully soft, warmed on the heated towel rack, and you’re reluctant to leave when your alarm shatters the morning peace. Thinking back on it once the haze of sleep clears, you think that may have been the entire point.

Caleb is too big for you two to be sharing the shower in your apartment, but that doesn’t stop you from squeezing into what little space is left. He laughs when he feels your arms around his waist, cheekily asking if you have room to breathe back there, but his hands hold fast to yours as if afraid you’ll slink away. You respond with a light nip to his shoulder and demand the hot water to be made even hotter. Underneath the spray, the two of you talk about anything and everything, making plans for the coming days you’re together. When it’s time to rinse the suds off, it’s a careful dance to get beneath the showerhead without knocking anything off the walls. After, the two of you fight for space in front of the mirror like when you were teens. It ends with you warning Caleb not to get toothpaste in your hair as he brushes his teeth over your head, you tucked against his bare chest.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

[biteyoubiteme]

pretty boy; bloody nose

fem!reader x bangchan 

synopsis: you're a doctor at a hospital where Chan comes after a fight. 

warnings: 🔞!!! boxer!chan, blood, broken bones, bruises, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding if you squint, 'pretty girl' used once, choking (m!rec), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 4k

an: all the photos of chan at or for the Fendi show have me gagged lol feedback is appreciated!! :)) [m.list] check out my other chan fic :)) [am/pm]

It was your starting shift when Chan came in. clutching his bloody nose with one bruised hand and pressing his other one to his wounded side. “my savior,” he smiled, dimpled cheek prominent even through the pain. He had blood in his mouth, teeth tinted pink with it. 

“Someone had a good night,” you laugh flipping open his chart, “says some minor pain but you seem to have lied seeing as you are currently bleeding right in front of me and you didn’t log it,” 

“my nose is fine, it was checked out by my coach, it should stop bleeding soon,” the rag he has to his face soaked through with red. “and I’m not a liar it’s only a bit painful and I wouldn’t have come in if I wasn’t contractually supposed to,” 

“uh huh,” you nod, tapping your pen against the clipboard you held. “So your nose doesn’t need to be set because your coach, who may or may not have any medical background, said so?” 

his smile widened and the cut on his eyebrow started to leak again from the movement. “exactly,”

“and I don’t need to see what you’re hiding right there,” you point with your pen to his fingers cupping his hip. 

“nope, I’m mainly a bit sore around the arms, so minor pain. I am not a liar,” he shrugs and you let yourself fully take him in past his injuries. He's slouched back against the hospital bed, his white tank splattered with his blood, gray sweatpants slouchy on his hips. if you could see his whole face without his hand in the way you’re sure he’s gorgeous essentially with a smile like that. what you didn’t like was to watch someone's cocky ass waltz in and say they aren’t hurt when it’s obvious they are. 

“well I am also contractually obligated to give you the best care I can offer and as your doctor, I’m here to say I can’t let you go without an exam,” 

“full body?” his tongue running across his teeth as you roll your eyes. it wasn’t exactly professional to let your annoyance show but you didn’t think he would run and tell someone. 

“let's start with your nose,” you turn placing your clipboard down and picking up a pair of gloves, “lean your head back,” 

Chan follows your orders as you walk around the bed to his side. 

“How did you end up here?” you ask, lifting the rag from his face. His nose wasn’t bleeding as much as it must have been earlier but it was still messy. And even with blood smeared all over, he was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen especially as he grinned up at you. 

“fighting,” he shrugs. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that I should see the other guy?” you reach over to grab some clean gauze before cleaning up his upper lip. 

“Maybe,” he dragged out the word, the smile as flirty as ever.  

you lightly press your finger to his nose to check if it’s broken but only feel a little swelling. “keep your head back to stop the bleeding. let's now see your side and then we will tape up your eyebrow,” 

“I’m perfectly fine,” 

“Not unless I say you are, come on let me see,” 

Chan is slow to lift his shirt but when he does his side is covered in deep purple bruises. “you're going in for a CT,” 

“what? no, I'm fine it was a few hits nothing I haven't felt before,” 

“better safe than sorry I'm sure you've heard that saying before. next time don't go getting into fights,” 

“It's kinda my job,” 

“pretty boys like you shouldn't be fighters, and they shouldn't be putting their perfectly healthy bodies in distress, we need to check for any internal bleeding,” you peel your gloves off tossing them in the bin along with any bloodied gauze, chan's head still laid back as he watches you, “a nurse will be in to take care of your eyebrow and take you for the CT,” you pick up his chart, penning in the request. 

“You're not going to take me?” 

“I'll be back in to discuss the results it shouldn't be too long a wait it's slow tonight,” you didn't look up from his chart as you said it but you did when he said, “I want you to take me,” it's not suggestive in any way but the way that he says it is, deep and throaty like an invitation. his head lobbed to one side watching you, eyes leaving a trail of heat up your body as they trace your figure. 

“I will see you after your results come back,” you say, rushing to get out as fast as possible. it was frowned upon to flirt with patients no matter how hot they looked or how willing they seemed to flirt back. you went on your rounds before getting Chan's results, the nurse bringing them to you with a smile. 

“he will not stop talking about you,” 

“What?” but you can feel your heart thumping all of a sudden. 

“asking questions and whatnot,” she giggles as you pull out his scans. “Does she usually work Thursdays? Is she seeing someone? going on and on,” 

“about me?” You're a little shocked but trying to play it off. 

“if you don't give him your number I will hand mine over,” 

“We cannot give our numbers out to patients,” but your blush is hot on your face. who would know you gave him your number? no one. “we will both be out shortly please have his discharge paperwork ready,” 

“Should I put your number on it?” she jokes and you roll your eyes before pushing his room door open. 

“no internal bleeding,” you say once you close the door. “but you should ice your side the swelling will go down soon,” 

“I told you nothing was wrong, he couldn’t hit hard enough to cause internal bleeding anyways,” Chans sitting up now with his legs off the bed. 

“you should be getting checked regularly for damage that is visible, especially if you have pain,” 

“It was only a little pain,” he rolls his shoulders back making his tank top stick to his pecks. 

“you should take an over the counter pain med and then try to avoid fighting,” 

“Now where’s the fun in that? if I hadn’t been sent here I wouldn’t have met you,” dimples on display just for you. 

“uh huh sure,” you wave at him to stand, “Let's get you out of here before you steal the hearts of the nurses,” 

“the only heart I’m interested in is yours,” it’s cheesy but you can’t help the smile it gives you. “Let's go,” you laugh, pulling open the door for him. when he walks out he turns to face you moving backwards. 

“if I got into another fight would I be able to ask for you specifically or would you need to give me a number to hold onto just in case?” 

“flirty and shameless,” you say, walking him to the front desk to check out. 

“that did not answer my question,” 

“I’m sure you could find me in the hospital directory if you looked hard enough,”

“and if you’re not working? will it go straight to voicemail or will I somehow be able to get you over to take care of me?” 

“for someone who didn’t need my help at all for his little bit of pain, he sure is worried for his safety now,” 

“I was told by a gorgeous doctor that I should be concerned with putting my perfect body and pretty face in the line of fire,” 

“I said you had a perfectly healthy body,” you shake your head at him.

“You did say my face was pretty tough,” he leans against the desk elbow propped up to the perfect height to flex. “And I'm sure I can show you how perfect my body can be,” 

“goodbye Chan,” you wave your fingers in his direction walking away before you embarrass yourself in front of your coworkers. 

-

It's only a week later when you see Chan's chart in front of you again. “This one was asking for you by name,” the nurse comments. 

“of course he was,” but even as you say the words you can't help but feel the fluttering in your stomach. most people who came in you didn't see again and if they flirted you were happy to see them gone but Chan wasn't making you feel that way. 

he was alone in his room when you went in. laid out on the bed with his hand to his nose. It was like deja vu only now his tank was black instead of white. blood dripping down to his lips that smile directed at your heart. his eyebrow looked better but was still slightly discolored from last week. 

“I think this time it's broken,” but he's not showing any pain if it's the truth.

“your nose again? you’re too pretty to be taking punches to the face,” you pull on a pair of gloves walking over to inspect him. 

“That's why they do it, they are jealous,” he lifts away the gauze the nurse must have given him. 

His nose is clearly broken and needs to be set. you press your finger lightly to the bridge checking out the bone. Chan's eyes flutter shut and he lets out a weak moan, so soft that you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to his face. you try to ignore the sound feeling along his cheekbones but when you press to the corner of his eye he lets out another soft whine. 

“I'm going to have to reset it,” you say pulling your hands away from him, “you can set up an appointment-“

“can't you just do it now? I don't think I'll need all the fuss of local anesthetic i think I can handle it,” 

“It's going to hurt,”

“it didn't hurt much when I was hit I'm sure it won't be too bad the other way around,” 

“You know it's okay to admit when it's painful,” you say, prodding again at his nose, he gives another soft moan at the touch, shifting his hips and leaning further back. 

“I like it, so even when it's a little painful I don't mind,” 

you move to grab a splint for his nose before preparing him, “I'll be quick so you shouldn't feel much but it will still hurt,” this wasn't the first time you've had to fix someone's broken nose but it would be the first time you were worried about messing up someone's face. you had full trust in your abilities but your anxiety was not helping. 

Chan crossed his arms nodding before you pressed the heel of your palm to his nose, “Deep breath,” he followed your instructions and without warning you reset his nose. He flinched knuckles bleached from holding on so tight to himself, moaning as you pulled your hands back. you grabbed the split to finish the job, “see quick and easy,” his voice thick before he clears it. “I think I need a minute,” 

“I can get something for the pain real fast,” you say tugging off your gloves already moving to get the meds. 

“no no I don't need that, I just need a second,” his head is leaned back, throat exposed, arms still crossed while he shifts his hips again drawing your attention to his waist. you can clearly see the outline of his hard bulge through his gray sweatpants. 

“Oh!” you turn around fast to try and give him some form of privacy feeling your face get hot. “I um- I'll just-“ you cut yourself off picking up his chart and moving to the door.  you close the door as he tries to say something but you’re already down the hall trying not to think about what you saw. you don’t really care it’s not the first time you’ve seen someone turned on in the hospital although all the other times you rolled your eyes. Now you’re stuttering and trying not to think of Chan in a way that could get you into trouble. 

but it’s all you can think about.  

how long would he need? would he be actively trying to get rid of his problem mentally or physically? what would have happened if you had stayed? would it have been beyond awkward or would you officially have to resign for having sex while on shift? 

you give Chan's chart to another doctor to check over your work and send him off. you didn’t want to go in and embarrass him or embarrass yourself for that matter. so you hid like a coward. 

-

it was a rare night off for you and you took the opportunity to spend it with your old friends. 

at a nightclub on a busy strip downtown your friends decide to bar hop. you had a late shift tomorrow anyway and didn’t care about sleeping in. At the third bar, your friend's boyfriend starts talking about a fight happening across the street. “the guy's undefeated I swear I just wanna see the end,” 

“If you’re dragging us along you’re paying the entrance fee,” your friend says before another pipes up, “and a drink each!” 

“Fine, fine let’s go, it's already started!” all of you rush across the street joining the moving queue as people file into the building. 

You can hear the cheering already, the announcer shouting over the speakers, your shoes sticking to the floor as if you were still at the bar. but this is far from it, people are jostling each other around, and the seats all first come already full. it’s not until you’re making your way up the steps of the bleachers that you see who’s in the ring. 

Chan is shirtless and glistening with sweat, hair stuck down across his forehead, lip bleeding around his mouth guard. muscles rippling as he delivers a blow to his opponent. 

you’re almost shocked still and unmoving in your walk up to a seat. someone behind you tries to move past you and you stumble, unaware of your surroundings. 

Chan doesn’t know why he looks up because he always tries to focus solely on the person in front of him determined to beat him. but he does let his eyes flicker up to the stands to see you apologizing to someone moving past you. He's caught off guard by your presence and the right hook that makes his head snap away from you. 

the crowd shouts in disapproval as you take your seat. Chan is now bleeding from his nose like every other time you’ve seen him. The droplets of blood fell to his toned stomach each breath pushing the trail of blood further down. 

you’ve never been into fighting, not watching or participating but now you’re fully invested. you don’t even want a drink when your friends ask if you need anything. your eyes follow Chan as he delivers hit after hit to the man in front of him. and when they call a winner you’re up out of

your seat cheering along with the rest of the watchers. 

“omg is he looking at us? I swear he’s looking right at us,” your friend laughs next to you. 

Chan is in fact looking up the stands at you. That dimpled smile on full display after he’s taken his mouth guard out. when he sees you looking back he mouths ‘Wait for me’ and you’re putty. you don’t even try to think that he could have been talking to someone else because you’re delusional enough not to give a fuck. 

when you make it down to where Chan is signing autographs you’re a little nervous after how you left things. but that goes away when he grins, split lip reopening. “my favorite medical professional,” 

“I thought I warned you not to get your pretty face in the way of someone’s fist?” 

“How else am I supposed to see you if I don’t come in needing your assistance?”  

the crowd around you is clearing and you’ve already told your friends not to wait on you so when Chan asks, “Can we talk?” nodding his head in the direction of the locker rooms, you don’t turn him down. 

He leads you to the hallway just out of the way from everyone else. “I wanted to apologize for the last time I saw you,”

“no no, I should apologize I shouldn’t have given you someone else to work with,”

“no really I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I swear I was trying really hard not to have any kind of reaction I just-“

“It's okay truly I wasn’t uncomfortable it’s natural although I've never reset someone’s bones and had that happen-“

“I'm sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck, arm flexing and you realize he’s still shirtless. all finely toned muscles on display the damp towel used to wipe away any blood and sweat thrown over his shoulder. but a spot of blood had been missed right at the band of his shorts. without thinking you reached out to brush it away with your thumb. 

Chan and you stood frozen, his breath shallow as he watched your finger wipe at his skin just low enough to send a shiver down his spine. 

“Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks when you pull away. 

“you were just in a fight and you still want to go out?” 

“with you? yes. With anyone else? no,” you’re standing close together and when someone walks past to reach the locker room door Chan moves in blocking you against the wall. your hand comes up and rests on his ribs, his bruises gone from his first visit only now to be replaced with fresh ones. 

he’s leaning down close to you as another person moves around you two to enter the locker room. Chan's breath fanning your ear before he whispers, “We don’t have to go out, we could stay in…” 

he technically was not your patient, you weren’t at work and you weren’t obligated to deny yourself anymore. not when Chan was standing here willing and you were wet from just watching him win his match. 

“Okay,” your voice was low and weak but all the confirmation Chan needed to pull you along after him. 

past the locker rooms are a few offices and Chan knows there’s a secluded restroom right by there. you don’t even think twice as he shuts the door behind you locking it. you’re both on each other the second Chan turns around. hot and heavy kisses down your neck and over your collar as Chan palms your ass over your short skirt. your hands tugging at his hair but not the way Chan likes, “harder,” he breathes between kisses, “I want it to hurt,” and when you do his moan is music to your ears. 

Chan walks you back into the wall pressing you against the tile next to the sink. 

“When I thought about fucking you I never imagined you dressed like this,” Chan lifts your leg to his hip, hot hand running under your thigh and up under your skirt. 

“disappointed we can’t play doctor?” 

“I don’t care as long as I finally get to have you,” Chan's free hand slides up under

your shirt palming you over your bra. his mouth is back on yours as he wedges his knee between your legs. his thigh placed right against your clothed clit. 

Chan's hand fits right in the pit between your hip and thigh, fingers digging in as he pulls you forward on his thigh. 

your hips start to move against him, moaning into his mouth as you rock back and forth against him. “My pretty girl wants me so bad,” he breathes, planting kisses down your jaw. “I can already feel how wet you are for me,” 

with anyone else you would have been embarrassed about how needy you were but you didn’t care with Chan. not when he had been on your mind for weeks now, when every time you got off recently you had been imagining Chan's fingers doing the job instead of your own. 

Chan taps your other leg muttering, “Jump,” and you follow his orders, Chan moving to set you down on the sink’s countertop. He pulls away, hooking his fingers in your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stays on his knees leaning over to kiss you on your inner thigh. you tug off your shirt tossing it on the counter next to you. 

you cup Chan's jaw letting your thumb run over his bruised bottom lip, your finger moves over his nose brushing down the slope. Chan's smile is lazy, his gaze pouring over you. “you’re healing nicely,” 

“to have your hands all over me I’d make a million more visits, and,” he lifts himself until his lips are brushing yours, “I love the pain,” 

you slip your hand into the waistband of Chan's shorts wrapping your fingers around his stiff length. He moans loudly against your cheek as you stroke him. Chan's hand pushes under your skirt pressing his thumb into your clit, circling slowly. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” Chan grunts pushing your skirt up higher around your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter before you remove your hands from his already leaking cock. 

Chan pushes down his pants to free himself before he’s lining up with your entrance. 

he doesn’t hesitate to thrust in fully pressing his pelvis to yours. both of you moan out your arms wrapping around his shoulders. chan inches out before slowly pushing back in. You whine, laying your head back until it’s laid against the mirror. 

you wrap one of your hands around Chan's neck, “is this okay?” 

Chan nods, “Harder please harder,” you squeeze enough to make his eyes flutter, the same way they had when you were back in the hospital fixing his nose, his hips finally picking up pace. every drag of his cock makes a bolt travel down from your spine to your knees. your back arching, Chan drags his teeth down your throat. 

your free hand scratches down Chan's back and you move your hips to meet his, trying to build any friction. 

“you feel so deep,” your voice not sounding like you as Chan angels himself up brushing against your g-spot. your legs wrapped around him shake at the contact, your walls squeezing around his cock. 

“I wanna hear you cum for me,” Chan moves his fingers between you rubbing your clit until you see spots, knowing exactly what you needed. 

Chan picks up his thrusting pace, punishing you with his cock, tip pressed right against the deepest part of you. “cum inside me please,” you beg, your nails usually nicely kept for work scratching him like they weren’t shortened. 

His thrusts falter at your words, his moan in your hair loud and echoing in the small room. “please I want it, I want to feel it,” your fingers around his throat give a squeeze and Chan knows he won’t be able to deny you.  

with a few sloppy thrusts, Chan is coming hard enough that his upper half gives out, laying on you. your hands leaving his throat and twisting in his hair as he shoots out ropes of hot cum inside you, hips jerking. 

The feeling of his release and his fingers on your clit send you over the edge, your legs locking around him as you cry out his name. Chan's slow thrusts help you ride out your high. both of you panting arms wrapped around each other not wanting to let the other go. 

clarity starts to set in as you catch your breath, your hair sticking to the back of

your neck. chan pulls out, the slick sound making you pulse around nothing. Chan watches as your combined cum slides out. He lifts your leg under your thigh using his thumb to spread your pussy lips apart watching as more comes out. “Next time I’m at the hospital I won't be able to forget this,” he drags his thumb up to your clit making you jump. spreading the slick around, “I might even ask for you to treat me this well again,” 

[limethefirst]

Hellooo, i hope your having a beautiful day. I saw your requests are open and that you wrote for movie shadow once. Would it be okay if maybe i requested movie shadow x a reader who prehaps eggmans niece. Maybe then when its just shadow, stone and her on the crab prehaps she takes shadow to her room on the crab and trys to play and show him some of her stuff not scared of him. Then maybe she remind him of maria 🥹? Idk i have sonic brainrot after seeing the movie today lol and ive had this idea since.

Do I look like her?

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehogs x reader (platonic)

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers

summary: as the niece of Eggman you are left behind on the crab with Shadow as the men finish their mission, but every time Shadow looks at you he sees someone else.

a/n: hii thank you so much for the request! I’ve been wanting to write more Sonic 3 fics because I love the movie so much! I hope this is to your liking and you have an amazing day!!!

You watched your uncle Robotnik and Gerald walked away together, planning to sneak into GUN and steal the final keycard they needed, leaving you, Stone and Shadow.

“I have avocados in The Crab. Let’s go make guac!” Stone chimed, both you and Shadow turned your head to look at him.

“Revenge guac.” Shadow responded, his brows furrowed watching as Stone slowly helped you back into the sewer drain.

You were warned about Shadow, he was dangerous Robotnik had told you. Robotnik was somewhat caring when it came to you, he wasn’t harsh nor rude, he saw you as a responsibility but not a burden. He was kinder around you, maybe he saw a bit of himself, being all alone in a world that tended to abandon.

Whatever it was, you knew his warnings were usually right, but having been around the hedgehog for a while you honestly didn’t believe your uncle. Shadow, although seemed tough, you could tell there was more behind the persona and all the walls he’d put up.

Stone walked over to the island in the middle of the Crab, preparing the avocados for the guacamole he planned to make.

You took the opportunity to show Shadow around. Being the youngest of the bunch you didn’t have many friends and this was a chance to make a new one.

Quickly you walked in front of Shadow, a bright smile on your face highlighting the innocence in all your features, it was eerily reminiscent of someone.

“Come, I wanna show you around!” You told Shadow, grabbing his gloved hand unannounced, making him slightly more on guard. Stone looked up from the guac he was currently working on, he seemed happy; smiling at the two kids.

Shadow didn’t say much as you dragged him to your room, he just looked at you. Watching as your hand gripped onto his, he couldn’t help but hold on as well. Fearing that if he let go he may never find it again.

As he watched you near the closed door, he couldn’t help but take in all that you were, your demeanor, your way of speaking, your bright attitude, it was just like hers.

“This is my room!” Your hand started letting go of his but his grip only tightened. You looked down at his hand and back up at him as his eyes scanned the small room. You only smiled at his gesture, not feeling the need to point it out.

As you guided him around still hand in hand you saw his eyes checking every corner of the room, “It’s small,”

Your sudden laugh catches him off guard, his head quickly turning to see your free hand covering your mouth, “Sorry sorry! It’s just that’s the first thing you say to me?” You jokingly tell the hedgehog.

He watches you for a little bit longer, his eyes widening. As he stares up at you, all he sees is her. It wasn’t physical, it wasn’t that you looked like Maria, no not at all, it was the fact your personality towards him resembled her so much.

You weren’t afraid, you approached him and didn’t see him as a weapon or some type of lab rat. It was like he was really a person around you, like he was capable of caring again.

Shadow didn’t say much, and that was okay, you could do most of the talking anyway, you enjoyed being able to finally talk to someone.

You sat Shadow down on the floor, letting go of his hand so you could show him some of the toys and games you owned, knowing he lived 50 years in the past you wanted to keep him up to date on all the newer stuff that had come up. While you were grabbing some items you decided to also play a movie, it would be cool to show him the new films they’d come out with.

He silently watched you hurry around the room, dropping strange toys onto him. He felt some weird string toys get stuck in his quills.

You heard him rustle around, seeing him pull out your worm on a string, “Very colorful,” he grunted, as he tossed the toy in the pile in front of him.

All you did was smile as you sat in front of him, describing each toy and how they worked, as the latest Godzilla movie played in the background.

It was ironic really, back then Godzilla was a monster and now he was a friend protecting the people from the other monsters.

He no longer sat with Maria watching movies and playing games, now he sat with you. Oh how things really have changed.

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[wonusite]

Endless Adoration

❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

GENRE: best friends brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

WARNINGS: bestie’s brother!mingyu, virgin!reader, secret pining, suppressed feelings, discourse of how to pronounce caramel, mingyu is the textbook definition of down bad, loss of virginity, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mirror sex, riding, squirting, multiple creampies, cum eating

A/N: this fic is my contribution to the fall season and part of the fall-ing for you collab! hope you all enjoy! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

It’s no secret that Mingyu is an affectionate man.

Acts of service and giving out his affection is his love language, and everyone knows it. Which is why no one really questions his behavior toward you. If he laughs a little too hard at something you said or always comes to your defense even when you’re wrong, it’s not really suspicious because he’s just a kind and gentle guy.

His little sister, however, does not see it that way.

Minseo knows her brother, and while he may be a walking green flag and a gentleman among beasts, he’s not that nice. Vernon argues that it’s only because you two are best friends that Mingyu treats you just a bit better than anyone else. It’s a viable argument, yet the little telltale signs point to Mingyu’s actions being more than common curtesy.

Like now as you’re arguing with Seungkwan during game night about the correct pronunciation of your favorite candy.

“It’s caramel.”

You scoff, eyebrows furrowed defiantly as you glare at Seungkwan. “No. It’s caramel.”

Vernon and Seokmin watch the exchange with amused smiles while Minseo watches her brother. He wears a similar expression, except there’s a subtle emotion in his eyes as he’s looking at you. It’s been there since you slapped down your last two Uno cards in repulsed shock when Seungkwan mispronounced caramel.

Ten minutes later, neither of you are willing to concede to the other and Mingyu still looks like a lovesick puppy.

“In what world is it caramel?” Seungkwan screeches, rising up from his spot on the couch.

“Mingyu.” You call suddenly. “Is it caramel or caramel?”

Two pair of heated eyes look over to him pointedly. The room goes silent as everyone waits for the answer that will possibly get you two to stop arguing. Minseo watches her brother carefully as he puts down his nearly empty beer bottle. The move seems casual, but she knows he does it to distract himself from the fact that you’re practically saying take my side.

“It’s caramel.”

“Ha!” You yell in victory, pointing a smug finger at a sulking Seungkwan. “I told you!”

Your friend’s pout is bitter. “That’s not fair! You only asked Mingyu because you know he’s going to agree with you no matter what!”

It’s true, and the rest of your giggling friends know it. Minseo doesn’t miss her brother’s bashful smile, and it makes her realize that there might actually be something deeper than just a crush. So she waits until all the guests leave to confront her brother about his not-so-subtle behavior.

“Is there something going on with you and Y/N?”

Now, her brother is naturally clumsy and pretty terrible at hiding his feelings, but Minseo didn’t expect him to drop all the board games he was carrying. He scrambles to pick up all the scattered pieces, pointedly looking at the ground and not up at her with a pout like he would’ve usually done.

“I—” He coughs awkwardly as he haphazardly shoves random pieces into the wrong boxes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s almost insulting that he thinks he can hide the truth from her. “I mean that I already know everything. So quit playing, and tell me how long this has been going on.”

Mingyu’s broad shoulders slump in defeat. He should’ve known that Minseo would find out (she had a knack for finding out everything), but he honestly didn’t expect her to find out this soon.

“Fine.” His tone is resigned as he puts the precariously stacked board games on the coffee table. “It’s true that I took Y/N’s virginity, but I swear that I only did it because she asked—”

“You what?”

His sister’s sharp tone makes him pause. Minseo’s mouth is dropped open and her eyes are almost popping out of her head. Belatedly, Mingyu realizes that his little sister is not referring to the favor you had asked him to do weeks ago. An uncomfortable chill goes down his spine.

Fuck.

You were going to kill him.

It’s not Mingyu’s fault.

When you came to him and asked him to teach you how to have sex, he was rendered powerless to your pretty eyes that shined with so much trust. He knows it’s wrong for him to take his little sister’s best friend’s virginity, but ever since you were kids, he’s never been able to tell you no. Years later, nothing has changed.

“Spread them wider, baby.” His voice rasps as his hands go to pry your thighs apart until he’s left with the sight of your glistening cunt.

Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight of your pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your own arousal, and all he’s done is kiss you and mark up a few places on your body. And yet, there’s already a messy web of arousal covering your puffy lips. His groan is deep and almost animalistic when he sees your pretty cunt clenching with need.

Minseo be damned, he was going to absolutely ruin you.

You mewl softly when Mingyu presses his middle and index fingers against your cunt to spread your lips apart. The heat from his fingers feels different from when you touch yourself. It feels so much better, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moans and whimpers from escaping like they want.

Your best friend’s brother has always been unfairly attractive, but he’s never looked hotter to you than he does now, licking his pink lips while looking at your pussy.

Mingyu glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve really never done this before?”

The beefy puppy between your legs thinks he might actually come untouched when you pout at him. That exact look is what got him into this situation in the first place. Your adorable pout always brought him to his knees.

“Gyu.” You whine, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

He loves when you call him that, and it takes everything in him to hold himself back from shoving his cock inside you and fucking you roughly like he wants. That would have to be for another time.

“I’m not, baby.” He assures you before he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “I just need to know how far I should take this.”

The frown you give him is oddly determined. “You said you’d teach me everything.”

Fuck.

Mingyu wonders if you actually know what you’re asking for, but then he has to remind himself that you’re only inexperienced, not stupid. You came to him because you trust him, and he wouldn’t ever betray that trust. If you happened to be uncomfortable with anything, he would stop right away. Though, it seems like you have no intentions of telling him to stop.

The soft moan you let out when Mingyu starts to gently toy with your dripping slit is like music to his ears. He thinks you can’t get any hotter, but then you buck your aching cunt into his hand as if to say get on with it. Ever powerless to your desires, Mingyu slips two fingers past your folds. He curls them experimentally, feeling your warm, wet cunt stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought. Virgin tight.

“Fuck.” His growl is deep and has you clenching down on his fingers. “I need to taste you.”

Arousal is clouding your mind and making you feel drunk. The way Mingyu is looking at you like you’re the thing he’s wanted the most in the world has you gushing all over his fingers. His hot mouth latches on to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. You cry out loudly as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, stretching you out to prepare you for his cock.

“Gyu!” You cry out as you arch you back, grinding your cunt into his face in search of release.

Your moans become broken when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The groans he lets out makes you release more juices into his awaiting mouth. It’s almost embarrassing the way his room is suddenly full of the wet squelching sounds coming from your cunt, but you feel too good to actually care.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mingyu groans into your sopping cunt. “You have the sweetest little cunt.”

All you can focus on is the way his tongue is fucking into you with a force that has you seeing stars. He runs his soft tongue along your aching folds skillfully until all you can do is cry out for him. Mingyu smirks into your folds, fingers slowly massaging deep inside you. The wanton cries you’re letting out make him scissor his fingers so you’ll be prepped enough to take his cock.

When you look down and see Mingyu’s pretty eyes looking up at you with unadulterated desire, the coil building in your stomach abruptly snaps. Mingyu moans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock twitches against the sheets when you keep rocking your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth. With a low groan, he keeps going, using his tongue to fuck you through your orgasm.

You’re a panting mess by the time he pulls away. His chin is covered in your release, and you briefly wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive. Mingyu licks his lips before he smashes them on yours. The taste of your own release makes you moan into his mouth, loving how his lips feel against yours.

You chase his lips when he suddenly pulls away. It’s almost cruel of him to laugh when you whine petulantly after he doesn’t give you what you want. But you can’t truly be mad. Not when it concerns Mingyu.

“Are you ready?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to his throbbing cock. He can’t deny the pleasure it gives him to see you gaping at it. It makes Mingyu think about the face you’ll make when he’s splitting you open.

“It’s...” Huge. You swallow nervously. “Will it fit?”

You can’t take your eyes off his monstrous dick. He’s stroking himself slowly, smearing the precum dribbling from his fat tip all over his veiny length. You can only watch in fascination like you’re in a trance, pussy clenching in desire. The only dicks you’ve ever seen are the ones from porn, but even those don’t compare to how thick and pretty Mingyu’s looks.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” Mingyu licks his lips, mind clouded with a lustful haze. “I’ll make it fit.”

The face you make when he uses your arousal to get his dick wet nearly makes him come right then and there. After years of fucking his fist to the thought of you, he finally has you underneath him looking more irresistible than ever.

“Ready, baby?” The pet name continues to fall from his lips so easily, and it’s making you unreasonably more horny than you already are. “Remember you can tell me to stop anytime.”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation. Instead of being nervous, you’re just eager, and you know it’s because you’re doing this with Mingyu who actually cares about you.

Mingyu shudders in pleasure as he slowly sinks his leaking tip into your tight pussy. Your warm and wet and already gripping him so tightly that he wonders if he’ll come once he gets the rest of cock inside you. The choked gasp of pleasure you let out makes him throb with pride and arousal. Your pretty mouth is dropped open in a silent moan, and he has to swoop down to give you a sweet kiss.

You whimper into his mouth, starting to feel the stretch burn as he continues to slide in deeper. Mingyu pulls away to place tender kisses along your jaw, whispering into your heated skin about how good you’re taking him. A soft moan is pulled from your throat when he rubs gentle circles on your clit. It eases the sting, and soon enough pleasure cancels out the pain.

“G-Gyu.” You mewl as he finally bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. “Fuck. Your cock is so big.”

Your fucked out whine makes his dick throb. Mingyu only offers you a shy chuckle, thumb still working your sensitive clit. Your hot cunt is pulsing and gripping him so tightly that he knows the slightest movement will have him busting inside you. And while that’s one thing he’s dreamed of for a long time, this was about your pleasure not his.

“Like it?” His voice is seductive and not teasing at all which just turns you on more. “Tell me, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

His hips shift, and it makes his cock curve into your sweet spot that makes you arch your back. The moan you let out is louder this time, hips bucking in need. Your arousal is drenching his cock and spilling down to coat his heavy sack.

“Feels so fucking good, Gyu! Please move!” You whimper desperately as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Mingyu moans into your skin, hips moving upon your command. He starts to thrust in and out of your hot cunt with precise yet slow movements. His hands trail up to your bouncing tits, gently caressing and rubbing your hardened nipples. You moan again, turned on by how tenderly he’s touching you.

“Told you we’d make it fit, pretty.” His grin is so attractive that it makes you tighten impossibly and stain his cock with more cream.

Mingyu’s hips start to snap a little more desperately now. His cock seems to swell when he looks down to see how tightly you’re gripping him. Strings of arousal cling to your skin and his as he continues to stretch out your tight little cunt. His heavy balls slap against your ass as you continue to moan in pleasure.

“You’re dripping all over me, babe.” He grunts, feeling like he’s in heaven. “Am I making you feel that good?”

Just like outside the bedroom, Mingyu likes to be praised. Your heart swells with fondness, unable to believe how cute he can be even as he’s splitting you open on his cock. It makes you want to oblige him all the more.

“So fucking good, Gyu.” You moan wantonly as his cock continues to spear into you.

You’re sensitive, mewling and whining in pleasure as he snaps his hips at the perfect speed and intensity. Mingyu lets out a deep groan when your thighs start to quiver. Your eyes are rolling back as his cock keeps slamming against your sweet spot, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“God, you’re pretty.” Mingyu moans as you squeeze his cock tighter. “Prettiest little thing ever.”

Your entire body heats up, and you can’t help but pull him down for a passionate kiss. Mingyu moans into your mouth. His soft lips move against yours with a need that makes you ravenous. You start to meet his thrusts, eager for more of him.

The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room, and you don’t ever want it to end. Mingyu’s mouth, hands, and cock are too addicting for you to ever want anything else. With the way his throbbing dick keeps fucking into you desperately, you’re pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

When he reluctantly pulls away from your sweet lips, he trails wet kisses down to your neck. You moan out his name when you feel him start to mark you up. The ache in his cock grows when he feels your nails dig into his shoulders. Your sensual moans of his name sounds like music to his ears, and he knows he’ll be fucking his hand to the memory often.

Your orgasm is close, the coil in the pit on your stomach on the verge of snapping. All it takes is for his long fingers to smooth over your wet clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud for you to come undone. Your back arches off the mattress as you gush all over his cock with a loud cry of Mingyu’s name.

The erotic and breathtaking sight of you coming on his cock is something that leaves him breathless. It’s all Mingyu needs for his own orgasm to rip through him. He stills with a low groan of your name. You can feel his cock pulsate inside you as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your pussy. The two of you are moaning and whimpering as your walls spasm around his aching cock.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu moans as he rolls his hips to fuck you through both your highs.

You’re whimpering in pleasure, milking him for every last drop of cum he has. The way he fucks it back into you makes you feel delirious with pleasure, and your cunt gets tighter with need at the thought of doing it all over again.

Mingyu holds you close as you both pant—spent and satisfied. He gently coos at you, sweetly caressing your face as he keeps his cum plugged inside you with his still-throbbing cock.

“How was it, baby?” He wonders, big puppy dog eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You wrap your arms around his muscular back, bringing a hand up to gently play with his hair. The gentle hum you let out eases his worries. “You were amazing.”

The smile he gives you is bright and makes your chest jerk with affection. Mingyu gently caresses your body, telling you how good you were for him. It makes you burn for him all over again.

Before you can convince him to fuck you again, he gets up and goes into the bathroom. You watch curiously as he brings back a wet towel. It’s warm against your skin as he starts to clean you up. The act is somehow more intimate than him stuffing you full of cum, but you don’t hate it.

Once he’s done, he gets back into bed with you. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you on top of him. Mingyu caresses your naked back, basking in the feeling of your weight on him. His heart jumps when he feels you start to trace small patterns on his chest.

“Can we do that again?” Your voice is coy, and he really fucking loves it.

“Yes.” He promises. “I’ll order some takeout for us first then we can do it again. Unless you want to do it now.”

You stay silent for a moment before nuzzling your face his sculpted chest. With your eyes closed, you let out a content sigh. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

Mingyu caresses your head with a love stricken smile you can’t see. “Okay.”

In retrospect, Minseo should’ve realized it sooner.

The signs were there—have always been there, apparently. It’s almost embarrassing that it took her so long to realize something was going on. Especially when she thinks back to the annual camping trip that took place a week ago.

It started off like all the other trips, except Mingyu insisted that you drive with him since he wouldn’t subject you to being a third wheel to his sister and Vernon. This was only the start of Mingyu’s unwarranted clinginess toward you. Minseo didn’t think too much of it because no one liked being the third wheel, and her brother always has a way of guilt tripping like no one’s business.

The campground looks beautiful covered in hues of red and yellow. Mingyu has brought along his camera and is already taking pictures and candids of everyone setting up their space. He especially captures some of you taking in the beautiful autumn scenery. You always looked so pretty when you had a look of awe and wonder on your face.

“I didn’t see you taking that many pictures of me.” Seungcheol teases as he peeks at the camera screen Mingyu is smiling fondly at.

His friend’s neck burns, and before he can think to say anything back, your voice grabs his attention. Seungcheol snickers quietly. It’s this simple action that Minseo’s attention again.

“Gyu.” You whine, holding up the tent you brought in frustration. “Help me.”

Her helpful brother goes over to you immediately like a puppy being called by its owner. Minseo should’ve thought more about the way he hands over his prized possession to Seungcheol like it’s nothing. The smitten smile he directs at you doesn’t seem that way to her in the moment, but again—hindsight.

Mingyu’s tone is playful as he asks you what you need. You don’t answer him because in the next second he tells you to follow the instructions in spite of the fact that he’s already starting to put the sticks together to actually lift the tent off the ground. Mingyu goes on to say that you should’ve gotten a smaller, one-person tent instead of a large dome tent big enough to fit five people inside.

“The guy at the store told me it would be easy to set up!” You whine with a frown. “And it’s not my fault the instructions are impossible to understand.”

Mingyu’s laughter is full of affection and adoration. He shakes his head fondly as he continues to build your tent for you. “You need to learn how to do these sorts of things.”

“Why? That’s why I have you.”

Once again, she should’ve thought more about the bashful look on Mingyu’s face and the way his ears and neck turned red. Instead, she chose to make sure that Vernon was setting up their own tent correctly because she had also bought one very similar to yours.

By the time everyone has their tents set up, the sun is starting to set. Mingyu helps Seungcheol start the fire while everyone else helps prepare the snacks and drinks.

The vibe is peaceful as you all settle around the fire. Mingyu claims the spot next to you, and you’re all too happy to have him by your side. It goes unnoticed, but now the image is clear in Minseo’s memories.

“Here.”

You look over to see Mingyu handing you a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow at the end of it. Maybe it’s the way the setting sun hits face or maybe it’s the fact that he was careful not to burn the marshmallow since you didn't like that. Either way your chest throbs with something you’re sure is not appropriate to feel for your best friend’s brother.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You smile at him before you start making your s’mores.

The night progresses like this, with Mingyu roasting your marshmallows and you happily making the s’mores. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s right to keep doing this with him. He’s so sweet and attentive that sometimes this line you’ve drawn gets blurry. The worst part is that you don’t mind if that line isn’t clear because being with Mingyu is like having a cup of hot cocoa when it’s cold—comforting and appealing.

For now, you decide to enjoy the moment. Evaluating feelings and this deep affection you feel would have to wait.

Fall has always been a special time for Mingyu. The leaves always change to beautiful red and golden colors, the weather turns the kind of crisp that’s invigorating, and it’s a time when family gets together. And possibly the most important reason: it’s the season when he met you.

He was only nine years old when you two met. It was a random autumn day meant to uphold the lifetime tradition of his parents taking him and Minseo to the pumpkin patch. Picking out pumpkins was something he looked forward to all year because it was a time where his entire family was together.

Mingyu vividly remembers being caught by surprise when his sister brought along an unexpected guest. She was holding the hand of a girl with a solemn expression that was a great contrast to her own bright one. Minseo cheerfully introduced the unknown girl as her best friend. You had offered him a barley-there wave that had him wondering how his sunshine of a sister could possibly like someone so closed off.

It was a misconception on his part because on the car ride to the pumpkin patch, he realizes his sister couldn’t have found a better friend. Minseo talks possibly more than he does, but you listened to every word attentively, like actually listen. Also, you offered her (and Mingyu after some shy contemplation) the snacks in your bag.

Your overly cautious attitude reminded Mingyu of his cousin’s unfriendly cat. Trying to get you to open up was a challenge, but you slowly started to warm up to him as the evening went on. He truly won you over after he offered to carry the heavy pumpkin you chose. The unsure pout you directed at him was adorable, and his heart just soared when you quietly thanked him.

“Here.” You huffed out, feeling embarrassingly shy as you stuck out your small hand.

Mingyu’s grin soothed the bashfulness. He thanked you for the candy you gave him, claiming that the caramel you put in his hand is his favorite.

Looking back on it, that was the first time you tugged on his heartstrings.

Of course, it was completely innocent back then. There was no way you could’ve known that Mingyu held on to that piece of candy for as long as he could until he forgot it in a pair of pants that his mom threw in the washer. Nor could you have known that as you two got older, it killed him just a little bit every time you referred to him as Minseo’s older brother.

These feelings don’t make sense in his mind, but it all becomes clear to him the fall of his junior year.

Just like all those years ago, you found yourself at the pumpkin patch. Except this time you don’t have either of the Kim siblings by your side. Minseo was hanging out with her almost-boyfriend and of course Mingyu hadn’t joined you two at the pumpkin patch for years now. You weren’t uncomfortable being alone, but it did feel odd picking out a pumpkin without Minseo inspecting it to make sure you picked one suited for carving.

In your lonely search, you meet Lee Chan. He too had been left alone after his friends went off with their respective partners. What you don’t realize is that your resident puppy boy is watching this kindred meeting from afar. Unbeknownst to you, Minseo had texted her older brother asking him to keep you company because she still felt sorry for leaving you alone.

At the time, Mingyu can’t explain why his chest feels strangely heavy. It feels like he can’t approach you despite knowing you wouldn’t be unhappy to see him. So he doesn’t even though it’s arguably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Later that night, his mom helps him come to the conclusion that this icky feeling is none other than petty jealousy.

As a teenage boy who loved his little sister more than anything, this realization was devastating. It was very likely that Minseo would be upset if she ever found out her brother had a crush on her best friend. The fear of what would happen if his feelings ever came to light was the reason Mingyu decided to keep it a secret.

After all, it was just a small, harmless crush.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, this teeny tiny crush soon blossomed into something more intense that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Time goes by, and yet his feelings haven’t gone away even when he starts to date. It makes him feel icky, and most likely the reason why none of his relationships ever last.

When it’s time for him to leave for college, he thinks that maybe he can move on. Only, you never give him that chance.

“Why don’t you ever bring enough clothes?”

It might seem like Mingyu is scolding you, but he’s actually only worried that you seem to value fashion over practicality. Your heart jumps when he takes off the scarf he’s wearing to put it around you, making sure it covers your neck and looks pretty with the outfit you’ve chosen. He doesn’t seem to notice that your eyes shine with endearment as he adjusts it to cover your mouth.

“Come on.” He absentmindedly grabs your hand, not realizing his touch is making your heart pound. “The cafe is only open for another hour.”

Mingyu had insisted that this new cafe had drinks to die for. So he waited until you got off work to go with you together. You’re glad his scarf covers the lower half of your face because you’re sure every single emotion you feel for him would be very obvious as he hands you a warm cup.

Walking in silence with Mingyu isn’t ever uncomfortable, but it does leave you to contemplate how you’re going to confess to him. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, and you hope he won’t be upset at your sudden feelings since you’re the one who insisted the sex between you two would be strictly platonic.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

It kills you that Mingyu can look so pretty while he’s tilting his head at you curiously. You let out a nervous breath. It was now or never.

“You told Minseo you took my virginity.”

The air goes still, and you feel like smacking yourself because that’s not at all what you were planning to say—not like that, anyway. Mingyu’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he feels a blush crawl up his neck and suffuse throughout his face. You don’t seem angry, but he can’t really tell with his scarf covering your face.

“I’m sorry!” He rushes. “I didn’t mean to, but—”

“I’m not mad.” You assure him with a laugh.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You let out a fond laugh. “And Minseo isn’t either.”

Before Mingyu can fully process your words, you crush him with a hug. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and press himself closer to you.

“I like you, Mingyu.” You confess, feeling like your heart is on the verge of exploding. “I like you so much.”

He stills in your arms. Slowly, he pulls away to look at your face. His expression is one of pure shock, and before you can brace yourself for any kind of rejection, Mingyu is kissing you.

The movements of his soft lips are needy and full of undeniable want. You moan into his mouth, returning his kiss with just as much vigor. It all feels like a wonderful dream, especially when you whisper against his lips that you want to go back to your place.

If this is a dream, Mingyu wishes it could go on forever.

Having you kneeled between his parted thighs, worshipping his cock in the exact way he’s shown you how has him coming apart quickly. You’re slobbering all over him, saliva slipping down the sides of his dick to lubricate him.

“Fuck, Gyu. You have the prettiest cock ever.” You gush, entire body hot with arousal and want.

The way he actually blushes as you praise him has your cunt dripping with more juices. You can’t wait to wreck him and have him writhing in pleasure. His cock is throbbing as you continue to lick and stroke him with your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip, licking into the slit which causes him to let out a guttural groan. The moans you let out run through the length of his dick in the most pleasurable way.

Mingyu feels completely fucked out at this point. He can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at sucking his cock. And now, he’s going to be the only man to experience what that pretty little mouth can do.

“Y/N, fuck.” He cries out as his orgasm abruptly hits.

As always, Mingyu looks absolutely breathtaking when he comes. His mouth is dropped open as a pretty blush covers his entire face. Dark eyes are unfocused and dazed as he keeps releasing thick ropes of cum into your mouth. The way you keep pumping and sucking him to squeeze more cum out of him is starting to make him tremble.

You pull off his cock with a satisfied grin. Mingyu’s chest is heaving as you go to straddle him.

“Wait!” He pants out, slowly coming out of his euphoric bliss. “It’s your turn—”

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Mingyu groans when he feels your creamy folds slide over his twitching cock. “But I really want to taste you.”

He’s so cute, you think as your cunt leaks with arousal. You hum in pleasure as you rub your aching cunt over the length of his dick. His fat tip is enveloped between your warm lips every time you grind forward while his heavy sack is slowly getting soaked with your arousal.

“Tell you what, puppy. After you fill me up with your cum I’ll let you eat it out of me, okay?”

You feel his cock throb at your words as your cream covers him entirely. Mingyu nods cutely, and that’s all you need to grab his pulsing cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you tease him by circling his tip against your slick entrance.

Mingyu moans loudly when you sink down. A choked whimper is forced out of him as you take him entirely, puffy lips brushing against his pelvis. His thick veins drag against your hot walls deliciously until his heavy balls are flush against your ass. It’s like all the air is being shoved out of your body to make room for his cock.

“God, Y/N. I need you to move. Please.”

You slowly grind on his cock, juices dripping down to his big balls and making a mess all over him. It’s probably really hard for him not to fuck his cock up into you, and it really turns you on that he’s trying so hard. You can tell he’s on the verge of breaking. Literally you can feel it. His cock keeps throbbing inside you like it’s on the verge of exploding.

“Show me what I’ve taught you, baby.” His voice is sultry and tempting—something you can’t say no to.

Immediately, you start to gyrate your hips. You two moan in sync as your pussy clenches tightly on his cock. Mingyu sucks on his bottom lip, completely beginning to lose his composure. His hands go to your waist, slowly guiding you as his imploring eyes gaze up at you with unmatched desire.

“Fuck, Gyu!” You cry out. “You’re so deep!”

The sound of your pleased cry, Mingyu starts to move his hips to thrust up into you. He groans lowly because it feels like his aching cock is hitting the hilt of your sopping pussy. Your soft hands smooth over his naked torso, crying out his name as you feel every inch of his muscular chest.

“Mmmh, pretty girl.” Mingyu hums in pleasure as his big hands smooth down your body to grab your ass. “Fucking my cock just right. Feels so fucking good.”

When he starts to kiss and suck on your neck as his cock spears into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. You moan his name loudly as you come all over his dick. Loud squelching fills the room as he continues to bounce you on his lap. His thickness is stretching you deliciously, the unmistakable sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass mixing in with your moans of pleasure.

Mingyu fucks into you a few more times before you feel his hot, thick cum spurt inside you. His euphoric moan is as pretty as ever, and you can’t help but move your hips to fuck him through his high.

You sag against him, and it’s silent for a moment until you bring your lips to his ear. “I want more of your cum, puppy.”

That’s how you find yourself on your side with Mingyu behind you. Your back is pressed against his beefy chest as he lifts your leg up to expose your soiled cunt to the cool air. He nuzzled his nose into your neck before he trails it up to your cheek. Your body shivers as his arm breath fans against your ear.

“Watch how your pretty pussy stretches open for me.”

You wonder what he means until his other hand lifts up your chin delicately to look at the full body mirror he bought for you a week ago after you told Minseo you wanted it. His fat cock is teasing your entrance, and the filthy sight makes your cunt flutter in need.

Without a word of warning, Mingyu thrusts his thick dick inside you, heavy sack flush against your creamy cunt. You whine out in pleasure, feeling completely full and stuffed to the brim. It’s impossible to look away from the mirror because you can see how tightly your pussy is gripping him.

Mingyu’s cock throbs inside you as his skin tingles with desire. He starts to thrust slowly. The lewd wet sound coming from your cunt is erotic as it fills your room. You moan again when the hand that isn’t spreading you open comes up to play with one of your tits. The sensations of his cock hitting your sweet spot while his fingers pinch and pull on your erect nipple have you close again.

If you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure Mingyu’s throbbing cock is providing you with, you’d tell him to let you record because the sight of him doing you like this is one you want to remember forever. His thrusts start to pick up as your moans get louder. He’s groaning into your ear as his fat tip slams against your cervix.

Mingyu pounding into you while in this positions feels like he’s tearing your pretty little pussy apart. He messily kisses your jaw as start to tremble in his hold, grunting when you tighten around him once again like you’re trying to milk him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.” Mingyu’s moan is low, but you hear it perfectly. “Sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you whimper out a nearly incoherent agreement. So lost in pleasure, you don’t realize your second orgasm is one thrust away.

“Mingyu!” You moan as your orgasm hits.

Juices spurt out obscenely and cover his entire cock and the sheets bellow you. Mingyu groans as he holds your legs wide open. He keeps fucking your messy cunt as you squirt all over him. All you can make out in your euphoric haze is Mingyu calling you pretty while his twitching cock keeps ramming deep into you.

“Fill me up.” You manage to mewl out as you turn your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

Mingyu moans into your mouth, thrusting into you deeply before he stills. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he floods your sloppy cunt with his cum. You swallow each others moans as he stuffs you full to the point where you can feel it leak out of you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside you is one of your favorite feelings which is why you’re eager to feel it at least one more time.

It’s why Mingyu is quick to put you into a different position, your legs pressed into your chest as he rams his aching cock inside you once again. Your fucked out eyes are the prettiest, and he knows that he’ll never get tired of that stare. He loves how your gaze never loses the affection you feel for him. It makes him feel like you’ll never leave him.

“You feel so good, Gyu.” You whimper as his big cock spears into you.

Mingyu roughly pounds into your ruined cunt, not holding back since he’s determined to fill you up one last time. His cock throbs as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your pretty mewls and whines mix in perfectly with the sound of skin slapping. It only makes him fuck you harder.

His dick forces out an obscene amount of juices from your fluttering pussy. Mingyu is so deep that it almost feels like he’s in your guts. You always feel so full when he fucks you like this, and all you can feel is bolts of euphoria dancing across your skin.

“Come for me, pretty.” Mingyu urges sweetly as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Come all over my cock and cover me with your sweet cream.”

Somehow he feel just as deep from this angle. He keeps railing your tight cunt, splitting you open to fully claim you as his. Your senses go into overdrive when he slips his fingers down to your puffy clit to rub gentle circles. At this point you’re trembling beneath him, all thoughts gone as he thrust harder and deeper inside you.

Mingyu’s eyes are locked on the way your tight pussy swallows his thick cock. The way your cream covers him completely make him more ravenous. He’s hitting your spongy spot with mastered precision, and it only takes a few more thrusts for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Your moan is pornographic as your walls contract and your juices squirt out everywhere. Mingyu’s pace doesn’t falter as you cover him with your orgasm. He groans loudly, loving how you can only seem to chant his name.

“God, you look pretty when you come on my cock. So pretty. Every. Fucking. Time.” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls.

Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around the thickness of his cock. Mingyu slowly releases your legs and goes to give you a passionate kiss. His hips move slowly as he fucks his cum back into you. With one last peck he pulls away and slowly eases his cock out of your messy pussy.

You moan again when he suddenly starts to lap up the mess between your legs. You’re too fucked out to stop him. That, and you did say he could eat his cum out of your pussy after you were done (plus it just feels so fucking good). He licks and sucks on your clit until there’s nothing left to lap up.

When he crawls back up your body, your insides clench at the erotic sight of him licking his lips. “So fucking sweet.”

You pull him down for another kiss. The taste of you two mixed together is so filthy yet so addicting that you have to lick every inch of his mouth. Mingyu pulls you flush against him as he continues to kiss you like he never wants to breath again.

Minutes later, you two are still in your bed, cuddling and unwilling to separate from each other.

“This feels like a dream.” Mingyu sighs into your hair.

You hum, running your finger tips along his biceps. “It’s not a dream. I really do adore you, Kim Mingyu.”

He buries his face in your neck, mumbling into your heated skin that the adoration he has for you is endless.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[yoongifis]

💌 switching positions | myg

where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*

pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi

; genre: smut (18+), pwp

; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)

a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p

-

“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”

The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 

He’s groaning out of boredom. 

“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”

You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”

You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.

And that’s what he did.

He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.

Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 

Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.

Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 

How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.

It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 

“Still a date,” he mumbles.

Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 

“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”

“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”

“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”

“Exactly.”

You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?

“How about we make a deal?”

He hums, “I’m listening.”

“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.

“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”

It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”

—

Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 

He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 

These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.

“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.

You laugh at him.

“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”

The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.

“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”

You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.

God—Yoongi is really serious about this.

You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.

You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.

“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”

All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.

A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.

“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 

It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 

You remove your hands away from him.

“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”

It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.

“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 

“Not even just for a little?”

You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.

“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Now that definitely hurt.

He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.

Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 

The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.

Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?

You immediately got to thinking.

And it hit you.

You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”

“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”

You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.

You mentally smirk to yourself.

Now that’s what you were waiting for. 

He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”

You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.

He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 

Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 

You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.

You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 

Nothing. No reaction. 

You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.

He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.

He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.

“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 

You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 

“Enough.”

You could tell on his face that he was being serious.

Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.

You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.

“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.

“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”

You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 

“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 

The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 

“Please—,” you mumble.

It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.

He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.

“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 

The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.

He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.

He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.

“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”

You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.

He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.

“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 

What a damn smart ass.

He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.

“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”

He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 

“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.

Silence.

“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.

Nothing.

The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.

You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.

That was just it.

Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!

—

You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.

“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”

His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 

Fuck—it  made him way too happy.

You hum, carefully picking out your words.

“I was going to film something.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 

“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.

He scoffs at your words.

“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”

“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”

He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.

“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.

Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.

“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”

He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 

As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me what you were about to film.”

“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”

“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.

You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 

“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.

“What is it?” 

“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.

“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.

Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.

“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”

You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 

“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”

As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.

He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 

You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.

You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.

With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.

“Panties to the side, princess.”

You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.

“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”

You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.

You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.

“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.

“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”

You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 

“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.

“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.

He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 

“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.

He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.

He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.

“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.

He hums against your clit before removing himself.

“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”

“Please—! Need you!”

He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.

“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.

“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.

“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 

He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.

“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”

You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 

He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 

“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 

You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 

“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.

He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 

You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.

“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”

You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.

“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”

You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.

Ah…What a smartass.

He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.

“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 

The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 

Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 

“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”

At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.

“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.

He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.

“Take the hoodie off, baby.”

You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 

God, you blew him away. 

You were just so. damn. beautiful. 

The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.

He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.

“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.

God, he needed you so bad.

He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.

“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 

The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.

“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 

He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.

Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.

“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”

He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.

He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.

“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.

You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 

“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.

He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.

You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.

The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.

He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.

“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.

He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 

You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.

“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”

You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.

“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.

He chuckles.

“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.

“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.

“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”

“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”

“Extremely, Yoongi”

He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.

“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.

Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 

Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 

“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”

He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.

You let out a little whine from his touch. 

“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.

He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.

“It’s all yours, baby.”

He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 

He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 

He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.

“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 

He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”

You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.

“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”

He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.

He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.

You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.

He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 

“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 

“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 

A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 

Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 

He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.

“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.

He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.

“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”

Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.

“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”

He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.

He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.

“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”

He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.

“Bring your feet up, baby.”

You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.

“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”

You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”

You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.

“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.

He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.

The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.

“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.

He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.

“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 

The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 

“Remove them, now.”

You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?

You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.

“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”

Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.

“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 

He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.

“More pressure baby.”

You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 

“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.

He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.

“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.

“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”

You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.

“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 

He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 

Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o” shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 

He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.

Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.

He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.

“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.

He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.

“Mmm…yes, baby?” 

“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”

He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 

He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.

“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.

“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”

He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 

“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”

He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.

“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.

“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 

Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 

Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 

He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.

“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.

He smirks at your words.

Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 

“Beg for my cock, baby.”

You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.

His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.

“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”

“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.

He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”

“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”

He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”

He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.

“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”

He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.

“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”

He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.

“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.

“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.

He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 

And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.

 “—Please—!” You cry out. 

“Remind me who I am again.”

“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.

“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”

You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.

He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.

“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”

He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.

“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.

He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.

“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.

He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.

He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.

“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.

God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.

“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”

What a fucking invite.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 

You seriously knew how to turn him on. 

How fucking dangerous.

He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.

“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.

Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.

Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?

He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 

You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.

He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 

His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.

He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.

You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.

“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.

He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.

Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.

“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.

The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.

He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.

“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.

“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”

You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.

He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.

If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.

“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“You’re insane, Yoongi.”

“Am I?” He lazily smiles.

“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”

He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 

Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 

—

You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 

You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 

This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.

You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.

-

After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.

“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.

“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”

He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.

“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only allowed in bed.”

“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”

He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.

“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”

He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.

“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”

Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”

You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.

“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”

Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.

You sigh in defeat.

“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.

He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 

-

if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)

i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!

[hoshifighting]

Workaholic!Joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua consistently skips happy hours or works overtime. You've tried to warn your friend countless times, but he didn't listen to you. As a result, it's no surprise that Joshua experienced a burnout on the office floor. — WC: 5.3k — WARNINGS: Smut, fluff, angst, office setting, fingering (f. receiving), clit stimulation, handjob, penetrative sex, a little bit of car sex, protected sex, dirty talk, flirty Joshua.

[Please be aware that the following text includes mentions of burn-out, collapse, fainting out, which may be a sensitive topic for some]

[Issue Club Serie]

You remember when you heard your manager talking about a job vacancy in the recruitment and selection sector. The name immediately stood out to you—Joshua. You studied with him in college, and you knew he would be perfect for the role.

The manager loved him. Joshua was charismatic, empathetic, and dedicated—everything the recruitment team needed. Every morning, he would thank you profusely, and at least twice a week, he would insist on buying you an overpriced coffee. It took some time for you to convince him that he didn't need to do this.

But there was something else you couldn't help but notice. The sheer number of job interviews Joshua had to lead, the late nights you'd see him at his desk with tired eyes, and how he always seemed a little lonely, even though the team welcomed him with open arms.

Joshua would rarely show up to the department's happy hours on Fridays or the company parties, and even then, he would only talk about work. There was no relief, no relaxation. You found yourself listening to him until the end of the night, as the rest of the team started to ask if he would even bother coming anymore, knowing he probably wouldn't.

You couldn't help but feel for Joshua. He was clearly passionate about his work, but at what cost? You watched as he isolated himself, unable to find that work-life balance that so many of us strive for. It made you wonder, what was driving him to push himself so hard, and at what point would the stress and loneliness become too much to bear?

As his friend, you couldn't help but worry about his well-being. You'd seen him cancel plans, skip social events, and even miss out on family gatherings, all in the name of his career. It was admirable, sure, but also concerning. 

You could consider reaching out, inviting him for a coffee or a quick chat. Maybe he just needed someone to listen and remind him that there was more to life than just work. 

But then again, who were you to judge? 

Everyone has their own path, their own motivations. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that Joshua was heading for a burnout. You wondered if there was a way to help him find a better balance without undermining his ambitions. It was a tricky situation, and you weren't sure how to approach it.

As you glance at the clock, the hands indicate it's already 3:35 pm. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you've been so absorbed in your work that you've skipped lunch. Deciding it's time for a much-needed break, you gather your phone and wallet, heading towards the exit of the department.

But just as you're about to leave, you spot Joshua, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur of movement. You can't help but let out a small sigh, knowing he's likely putting in extra hours again. Turning around, you make your way over to his desk, standing beside him.

"Joshua, it's past 3:30. Don't you think it's time for a break?" you say, your voice laced with concern.

Joshua looks up, blinking a few times as he registers your presence. "Oh, hey Y/N. I'm just trying to get this report finished before the end of the day," he explains, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You can't help but smile at his dedication. "Come on, you've been working non-stop. Let's go grab a bite to eat across the street. My treat," you offer, hoping to coax him away from his desk.

Joshua hesitates for a moment, glancing back at his computer screen. "I don't know, Y/N. I really need to get this done..."

"It can wait, Joshua. You need to take a break and recharge," you insist, your tone gentle but firm.

With a sigh, Joshua nods and starts to gather his things. "Alright, you win. Let's go," he says, shrugging on his blazer.

You can't help but feel a sense of triumph as the two of you head towards the elevator. "So, how are the apprentice interviews going?" you ask. "They're going well, actually. The candidates are all so eager and eager to learn," Joshua replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckle, nodding in understanding. "That's the best phase, but I hope they don't overwork themselves in the future, right Josh?" you say, casting him a knowing glance.

Joshua ducks his head, chuckling quietly. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he says, the hint of a smile still playing on his face.

As you step out into the bustling street, you feel the sun's warmth on your face, a pleasant contrast to the cold, sterile office. You turn to Joshua, a playful grin spreading across your face.

"Alright, Josh, here's the deal. If you talk about work during this break, you'll owe me an ice cream," you declare, wagging a finger at him.

Joshua laughs, a genuine sound that lightens the mood. "Deal. Though, to be honest, I'd buy you an ice cream anyway," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Don't you forget it. And remember, I'm serious," you say, trying to keep a straight face as you give him a mock-stern look.

Joshua raises his hands in surrender, still chuckling. "Alright, alright, I heard you loud and clear."

As you both find a cozy little café, the smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee envelops you. You choose a table by the window, and as you settle in with your meals, the casual chatter of other patrons creates a comforting background hum.

"Did you hear about the latest drama?" you begin, leaning in conspiratorially. "The director's wife found out he was cheating on her because her strawberry jam kept disappearing from the fridge—and the director doesn't even like strawberry jam!"

Joshua's mouth drops open, his eyes wide in disbelief. "No way. Seriously?" he exclaims, staring at you.

You nod, your face a picture of exaggerated exasperation. "Yup. She noticed it was going down way too fast and started putting two and two together."

Joshua shakes his head, still processing the story. "That's wild. You know, during the last interview I led, they actually put some strawberry jam on the table so the candidates would—" He stops abruptly as your glare pierces him. He laughs, holding up his hands again. "Sorry, sorry! No work talk, I remember."

You can't help but smile at his sheepish expression. "Thank you. So, back to the story. After she figured it out, she didn’t just confront him. Oh no, she went all out. She invited him to a romantic dinner, complete with candles and, of course, strawberry jam."

Joshua raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And then what happened?"

You lean in closer, lowering your voice. "She waited until he took a bite of the dessert she made—some fancy strawberry tart. And then she calmly asked him if he enjoyed it as much as his 'office snacks.'"

Joshua bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his food. "No way! That’s brilliant. What did he do?"

You grin, enjoying his reaction. "He turned beet red and started stammering. She didn’t even wait for an explanation. She just got up, left the table, and moved out the next day. Took the jam with her too, just for good measure."

Joshua laughs so hard tears form in his eyes. "I can't believe it. That's some next-level pettiness. Good for her."

You noticed Joshua seemed more relaxed after your lunch together. He even managed a smile when you passed by his desk later that day. However, during the week, your attempts to repeat the lunch outing were met with resistance. Each time you invited him, he had a different excuse.

"Hey, Josh, want to grab some lunch today?" you asked on Tuesday, hoping to replicate the success of your last outing.

"Sorry, Y/N. I need to lead the apprentice interview," he replied, not looking up from his computer.

On Wednesday, you tried again. "How about lunch today? There is a pasta sale going on at the mall."

Joshua sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could, but I need to filter the job applications. We're getting so many, and I need to find the best ones."

By Thursday, your frustration was evident, but you kept it in check. "Lunch today, Josh? You deserve a break."

"I'd love to, but I need to solve the issue with the employees' late salaries," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's causing a lot of stress for everyone."

Joshua was developing into someone who rarely took a break from his work. Today was Friday, and as you were leaving with your coworkers, all you wanted was to taste a cold beer and find some refuge from the rough week. The whole department was eager to hang out together, and the air was filled with energy.

You were refreshing your makeup at your desk as your coworkers trickled out, laughing and chatting. Glancing over, you saw Joshua standing by the printer, watching the curriculums pile up.

"Josh, you coming out with us tonight?" you called over, hoping to finally get him to relax.

He looked up, "I don't know, Y/N. I have these curriculums to go through, and then there's the report I need to finish."

Tired of trying, you sigh in defeat, the weight of your concern for Joshua pressing heavily on your shoulders. He notices, his eyes meeting yours briefly, but you turn away and walk out. You knew you didn't have the responsibility of checking on him every single time—it was his choice to work himself into exhaustion. But how could you not worry? He was a great friend, and the thought of him breaking down alone between the dividers of his desk was unbearable.

As you sip your beer, trying to enjoy the happy hour, the image of Joshua's lost eyes lingers in your mind. The laughter and chatter around you fade into the background as your thoughts drift back to him. After a few hours, the night winds down, and you remember you forgot your keys at the office. Debora, your coworker, offers you a ride back so you can retrieve them before heading home.

The office is dark and silent as you and Debora step inside, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. Only one light is turned on, casting a dim glow over a single desk. You immediately recognize it—Joshua's desk. But he isn't sitting there.

A sense of dread fills you as you approach, the cubicle dividers blocking your view. As you round the corner, you see him—Joshua, sprawled on the floor.

You gasp, rushing to his side. "Joshua!" you scream out, your voice trembling with panic. You carefully lift his head and place it on your lap, your hands shaking as you check for signs of consciousness. He's unresponsive, his face pale and drawn.

"Debora, call an ambulance!" you shout, your voice tight.

Debora fumbles with her phone, her fingers trembling as she dials. She quickly explains the situation to the operator and then rushes to find building security for additional help.

You gently shake Joshua, trying to rouse him. "Come on, Josh, wake up," you whisper urgently, but he remains still, his breathing shallow.

Minutes later, which feel like an eternity, the sound of sirens pierces the silence. The paramedics arrive, and you reluctantly let go of Joshua as they take over, assessing his condition and preparing to move him. You insist on riding with him to the hospital, unable to leave his side.

As the ambulance speeds through the city streets, you hold Joshua's hand, your heart pounding with worry. Outside the building, a few employees gather, watching the scene unfold with concern. You barely notice them, your focus entirely on Joshua, praying silently that he'll be okay.

You don't know exactly how many hours you've been by Joshua's side as he lies in the hospital bed. You watched the morning light grow brighter through the window, dozed off, woke up to find him still sleeping, went to the bathroom, and grabbed something from the cafeteria. When you return to his room, you see Joshua awake, a nurse measuring his blood pressure. An uncomfortable silence settles in as the nurse finishes up and leaves.

You sigh, walking next to him and turning your back to him.

"Are you mad at me?" Joshua asks, his voice still weak.

You shake your head, the words snapping out before you can stop them. "No, I'm letting you rest, since you don't do it yourself."

He sighs deeply, and you close your eyes, immediately regretting your harsh tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you this much trouble," he says softly.

You shake your head negatively, looking down. "I found you on the floor, Josh. The only reason I was there was because I forgot my keys. What if I hadn't come back?"

Joshua struggles, but he manages to reach out and catch your hand that is hanging by the bedside. His cold touch makes you glance at him. His eyes are full of exhaustion.

"Please, don't make me this worried again,"

Joshua squeezes your hand weakly. "I'll try, Y/N. I really will. I'm sorry for pushing myself so hard and for pushing you away. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten."

You nod "You don't have to do everything alone, you know. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

He nods, his eyes glistening. "I know. And I appreciate it more than you know. I just... I need to find a better balance."

"Promise me you'll take it seriously this time," you say.

"I promise," he whispers, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit, weakly. "I'll take better care of myself."

You sit down next to him, your hand still in his. "Good. Because you can't go through that again."

You didn't like the rumors circulating around the office about Joshua while he was away. It bothered you to hear whispers about his collapse, especially since everyone in his department knew how hard he worked and yet pretended everything was fine. 

As the days passed, Joshua's desk slowly filled with Post-it notes and snacks, contributions from you and other departments. Joshua's sudden health scare was a wake-up call, touching more hearts than just yours.

When Joshua returned today, Friday, you watched from your desk as he walked in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his desk. Messages of encouragement and little treats were piled high. 

His face goes red as he glances around, catching the subtle glances of his coworkers. They quickly return to their tasks, but you see the corners of their mouths twitching with barely concealed smiles.

He worked at his desk, and his department members spared him from taking on too much. As the windows started to show the darkening sky, some people had already left to go home. Unlike regular Fridays, there was no happy hour planned for tonight.

Seungkwan approached Joshua's desk, a concerned look on his face. "Hey, Josh, you should really think about not doing extra hours today."

Joshua shook his head, "I'm going to take it easy for now…" a small smile formed as he looked at you. "Also, I have a happy hour for two tonight, so no extra hours."

As his friends gave you sly glances and teased you with their smiles, you felt your cheeks blush.

"Looks like someone's got a date," Seungkwan said, grinning.

How did you two end up on a date? It started in the hospital. Joshua was still recovering, lying in bed, holding your hand. The room was quiet, the noise from machines was the only sound.

"How can you forgive me?" he asked, his voice soft.

You shook your head, a gentle smile on your face. "I'm not mad at you, Josh. But it would be cool if you took a break every now and then. Maybe we could go to a happy hour someday."

Joshua licked his lips, still holding your hand and giving it a weak squeeze. He looked up at you, all flirty. "Would you be open to having a happy hour with just you and me?"

You blinked, shocked. "What?"

He blushed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "Come on, it's so difficult for me to take a break. I'd love to have you as the motive for my breaks."

You scoffed, attempting to conceal the warmth that spread throughout your chest. "You should take breaks for your health and my sanity."

Joshua brushed his thumb against your hand, a playful grin grabbing at his lips. "Don't scold me, Y/N-nie, I'm sick," he teased.

You stared at him, a shocked smirk on your face. "You're taking advantage of me."

"Yes," he said, his smile growing. "Using the advantage, so you accept having an encounter with me."

The memory of that conversation makes you smile as you walk out of the office together, the evening air cool and refreshing. 

"So, where are we going for this happy hour?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Joshua chuckles, his eyes bright with excitement. "I thought we could try that new restaurant around the corner. I've heard good things."

You nod, feeling the tension of the week melt away. "Sounds perfect."

As you both enter the bar, the atmosphere is lively but not unpleasant. You find a cozy corner table and settle in, the soft murmur of conversation and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop.

Joshua looks at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and something else that makes your heart skip a beat. "Thanks for convincing me to take a break."

You smile, raising your glass. "To more breaks and less stress."

He clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile on his face. "To more happy hours with you."

After dinner, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Joshua's car. The air is filled with a comforting silence, both of you soaking in the cozy warmth of the evening. As he pulls the car up in front of your house, you pause for a moment, your heart quickening in your chest as you struggle to gather the courage to look over at him.

Instead, you direct your gaze out the windshield, staring at the street ahead of you. The dim glow of streetlights paints the night in soft hues of orange, casting shadows on the quiet neighborhood.

"Do you want to come inside?" you ask, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Joshua turns your face toward his, his touch gentle as he lifts your chin with a soft touch. "You want me to go inside?" he enquires, his tone soft.

You nod, your gaze drawn to his mouth. "Yes."

"Then tell me," he teases, "what exactly are we going to do inside?"

You gulp, your mind racing. "We can... we can..." you stutter. You didn't have an answer on the tip of your tongue.

Joshua leans in close to you, his smile growing wider as he whispers against your skin, "I'm going to come inside, but go easy on me," he says, his breath warm and sultry, "I'm not quite recovered yet."

You shiver at his words. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice still low and quiet as you look up at him.

"What do you think I mean?" he replies with a smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "I mean," he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your ear as he speaks, "that you might have to take it slow with me."

"Slow? How slow?" You're whispering, not because you're afraid of being loud, it's because you're so horny that your voice is strained. 

Joshua's lips curve into a smirk as he sees the effect he's having on you. 

"Slow," he whispers back, his voice low and seductive. "Slow to the point where you feel yourself starting to drip."

He closes the gap between you, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours as his hands slide up your hips.

"Are you sure you want me to come inside?" he asks, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

Your mind could only focus on the two last words. Mind foggy. "Come inside?" 

Joshua widens his eyes slightly, then a cocky smile spreads across his face as he registers the double meaning of your words. "Hmm look at you, how nasty... I guess we can do this too..."

His lips crash against yours, no longer gentle but filled with urgency. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring, tasting. You gasp, the wet noises so sultry inside his sleek car. His hands unclasp your seatbelt, and one slide from your knee to your thigh, slipping under your pencil skirt to feel the lacy panties you wore.

"Slowly, like this," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice too sultry.

His hand moves to the front of your panties, and you instinctively raise your hips as he pulls them down, discarding them onto the car's floor. The air inside the car starts to feel foggy, just like your senses, and your breathing becomes more rapid.

Joshua's hand returns to your now bare skin, his fingers teasing and exploring the wet folds of your pussy. You moan softly into his mouth, your body reacting to every touch. And slow, just like he said, he starts to circle your clit with his finger, making you instantly melt against the seat as you spread your legs wider for him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense, filled with fascination as he watches your reactions. Your mouth can't correspond to the wet kisses anymore, your hips roll against his hand, your legs spasm as you try to keep them open, and your skirt rises, revealing your sopping cunt glistening.

You find yourself pushed back against the seat, your body arching as you grow more desperate for him. His eyes never leave yours.

“I can feel how much you want this.” 

You can only nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers speed on your swollen bud. 

“So open, so needy.” he murmurs making you feel that sharp stitch in your belly一your horniness growing. 

His words make you moan, and he chuckles, his voice filled with a gloomy promise. “I want to hear more of that,” he says, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You cry out, your body responding instantly to his touch, your head thrown back.

“Joshua,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shirt as you try to ground yourself.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Yes, Y/N? Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you manage to say, your voice trembling, “I need more.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a fiery intensity. “More? I can give you more.”

With that, he increases the pace, his fingers moving inside you making the squelching wet songs, louder. He watches you so closely that you feel embarrassed; it is as if he reads everything about you and knows every secret you keep.  

“Every little touch, every little tease… you’re soaking it all up.” He coos, and you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. 

You can only whimper in response, your body trembling with the need for release. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can sense that you are nearing collapse.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips. “Let go.”

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing against his leather seat. Joshua holds you through it, his touch possessive, trying to keep you still so you can feel the waves better. As you come down from the high, you find yourself panting, your body still trembling non-stop.

His fingers are soaked, glistening in the pale light. With a teasing grin, Joshua brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied pop. You immediately turn your face to the window, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you try to straighten your skirt. His chuckle fills the car, rich and warm.

“Shy now, are we?” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your hands fumbling with the fabric of your skirt. But Joshua isn’t done with you yet. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “We can resume this inside. What do you think?”

You nod, finally daring to meet his gaze. He gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping out of the car. You watch him circle around to your side, suppressing a laugh when he catches the glimpse of your knees trembling as you exit the vehicle.

“Did you get this horny?” he can't hide the amusement in his voice.

The walk to your front door feels like an eternity, your fingers fumbling with the keys as Joshua’s need becomes more apparent. He’s pressing his bulge against you, his hands roaming over your body as he kisses your neck, making it hard to focus on unlocking the door.

Finally, the door swings open, and you grab Joshua by the collar of his white shirt, pulling him inside. Your mouths collide in a desperate kiss, his hands clutching your hips as you stumble toward the bedroom. You don’t care about the noise or the awkward angles; all that matters is the friction among you, the urgent need to be closer.

With outstretched arms, you brace yourself against the wall, your body arching toward his as he presses against you. His hands are everywhere—sliding under your blouse, unhooking your bra, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. You moan into his mouth, your hands clutching at his hair while you're absorbed by the feeling.

“Bedroom,” you manage to gasp, your voice breathless and needy.

Joshua’s response is a low growl, his hands gripping your waist as he guides you through the hallway. You barely make it to the bed before you’re pulling at each other’s clothes, the fabric tearing in your haste to be free of it. His shirt falls to the floor, followed by your skirt, his pants, your blouse—until there’s nothing between you but skin and heat.

He pushes you gently onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kisses you sloppy. His hands continue their search, teasing, caressing, making you frantic with need. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his back as you pull him closer.

His cock lays heavily against your belly, a warm, wet spot forming on your skin from his precum. You grab his throbbing length, feeling it pulse under your touch. Joshua shudders, moaning needily against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and adding to your own arousal.

Your hand collects the sticky lubrication, spreading it along its entire length. You begin to stroke him, your other hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His eyes flutter open, trying to stay locked on yours as you speed up your strokes. His gasps and whimpers alimented your hunger, making you feel yourself oozing more and more.

At a certain point, he lets out a high-pitched squeak, hiding his face in your neck. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice strained and desperate.

You close your eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Open this drawer," you murmur, nodding towards the bedside table.

Joshua extends his arm, fumbling slightly as he opens the drawer and finds a couple of condoms. He picks one up, glancing at you with a teasing smile. "Always prepared, huh?" he says, tearing open the shiny packet.

His hands move with such practiced ease that it makes your breath catch when you watch him slide the rubber down his length. His cock looks even more inviting now, sheathed and ready for you.

He positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a moment to look into your eyes. Slowly, he pushes inside, filling you inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, your pussy stretching to accommodate him. Joshua’s groan is deep and throaty, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out.

For a moment, neither of you moves, so you adjust to his side, but thankfully his fingers prepared you well in his car. Then, he begins to thrust, his pace is slow at first, his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction, his ears alert to your every moan, and every wet sound from your stretched little cunt.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts, your hands clutching his shoulders. “Faster, Joshua,” 

He complies, his pace quickening, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The room is filled with the sex sounds—the slap of skin against skin, the mingled moans and gasps, the creaking of the bed. You feel yourself climbing higher, the knot on your belly desperately wanting to blossom.

Joshua’s rhythm falters for a moment, his grip on your hips tightening. “I’m close,” he whispers, his voice strained.

“Me too,” you reply, your nails digging into his back.

Joshua takes his cock out of you, positioning himself a little further back before slamming all the way in again. The sudden movement makes you grab his forearm, while his other hand lays on your belly. Each thrust is powerful, hitting that perfect, spongy spot inside you that makes you sob with pleasure. You grow tighter around him with every second, the stimulation driving you both wild.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

"Am I?" you manage to gasp between his thrusts.

"Absolutely," he praises, his words going straight to your core. "You're so tight, so wet. You're perfect for me."

The praise sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back and cum for him. Joshua smiles at the sight of you unraveling beneath him—Your legs try to close instinctively, but his hips keep them wide apart. Your eyes roll back, your pussy gushing as your fingers curl around the headboard.

He finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it just as your orgasm peaks. It shatters you, making you curse.

"Fuck, Joshua! You're so deep... don't stop... please, don't stop. God, you're going to make me cum again."

"You're so fucking tight," he groans, his pace quickening. "I can feel you squeezing me. You're gonna make me cum so hard."

"Keep cumming for me, baby," he whispers, his own voice shaking.

His moans grow louder, his pace more frantic. Your dirty talk pushes him to the brink, and with a final, powerful thrust, he cums hard. His loud moaning, combined with the sensation of his cum filling the condom, makes your head spin.

Joshua leaves you shaking for the second time that evening, fully exhausted and completely satisfied.

Joshua falls on his side beside you, his breaths coming hard and fast. You can't help but tease him, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Are you going to faint here too? Should I call an ambulance? After all, you weren’t as slow as you said you would be."

He laughs, his chest heaving. "I’ve got enough energy to fuck you all night if you want to, leave your bed all drenched," he says, kissing your cheek and playfully slapping your clit, making you shudder.

"All night, huh?" you tease back, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Big talk for someone who just collapsed next to me."

Joshua grins, his eyes sparkling. "You doubt me?"

"I’m just saying," you reply, your tone playful. "Maybe you should pace yourself. I wouldn’t want you passing out on me."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m not going anywhere. And if you think that was all I’ve got, you’re in for a surprise."

You chuckle, your fingers dancing down his stomach. "Promises, promises," you whisper, your hand inching closer to his now half-hard cock. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

Joshua groans, his body responding to your touch. "You’re going to regret challenging me," he murmurs.

"Bring it on," you whisper back.