#intelligent heat control

[sulliva41365]

Exciting Innovations in the Smart Home Industry: Dreame's Hair Dryer Package

Hello everyone!

I wanted to share some exciting news from the smart home industry, particularly about the innovative brand Dreame. They have recently launched a fantastic hair dryer package that is transforming the way we think about personal care at home.

Dreame's hair dryer is not only sleek and stylish but also packed with advanced technology that ensures quick drying while protecting your hair from damage. With features like intelligent heat control and multiple speed settings, this hair dryer caters to all hair types and styles.

What sets the Dreame hair dryer package apart is its commitment to convenience and efficiency. Imagine having a high-performance hair dryer that integrates seamlessly into your smart home system! You can control it via an app, schedule your hair drying sessions, and even receive alerts when it's time for maintenance.

Overall, the Dreame hair dryer package is a wonderful addition to any smart home, making daily routines more enjoyable and efficient. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this exciting development!

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[rowarn]

when simon gets fucked out, pussydrunk, and overstimulated he cant control his fucking mouth. its a source of embarrassment and insecurity for him so dont !!!! ever tease him for what comes out of his mouth in those heated, vulnerable moments.

he says a plethora of things he just cant control but one thing is always consistent. the more fucked out he gets, the more he has to tell you that hes yours.

"'m all yours," he'll slur, sloppy and barely intelligible with his eyes rolled back while you ride him, "all yours. all yours. l-love you so much."

ask him if he means it, if hes really yours and yours alone and his eyes will roll some more and the sight alone could make you cum all over his stupidly big cock. ask him if thats yours too and hell fucking whimper — "yeah, love, 's all yours. take it all. use it. this cock...'s yours" <3

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

join my taglist here!

[velarisdusk]

Indelicate Distraction

Day 15: Distracted Sex | Azriel x Reader word count: 2.2k author's note: this turned into much more than i was planning, but im so so happy with it :) i love azriel, and i love the thought of him pouring himself into reports late into the night like ugh thats so lip bite ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

Azriel sat behind his desk, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as his eyes skimmed over the intelligence reports scattered in front of him. His shadows coiled lazily around his form, reacting to his every thought as he plotted the Night Court’s next course of action in the war against Hybern.

You stood in the doorway, admiring him as he worked. The flickering faelight highlighted the sharp angles of his face, the taut muscles under his leathers as he leaned over the desk. He was so focused, so consumed, that he didn’t notice you enter. 

Or maybe he did but chose not to acknowledge you. His shadows, however, weren’t so discreet. They brushed against your legs in greeting as you approached him, a soft caress that never ceased to send a shiver up your spine. 

“Azriel,” you purred softly, perching on the edge of his desk. His focus didn’t waver, his fingers still tracing the map before him. 

You leaned closer, your fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder. “You’ve been at this for hours…”

“I’m nearly done,” he murmured, not looking up. His voice was low, rough with hours of silence, but it was the way his shadows seemed to tighten around your legs that betrayed him.

With a smirk, you moved behind him, your fingers brushing his neck and shoulders. His wings twitched in response, but still, he kept reading. No. That wouldn’t do.

“You don’t mind if I help you relax a bit, do you?” you whispered, lips ghosting his ear.

This time, his breath hitched. And you knew you had him.

Without another word, you slid into his lap, feeling his muscles tense beneath you. He was trying to stay focused — his hands still gripping the edge of the report — but his body couldn’t lie. Not to you. His hips shifted beneath you, betraying the control he prided himself on. 

You settled yourself more firmly in his lap, your body pressing against his, heat blooming between you. One of his shadows curled around your waist, pulling you closer even as Azriel’s hands remained stubbornly on the parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could feel the tension rolling off him, his control hanging by a thread.

With slow, careful movements, you trailed your fingers down his chest, over the hard planes of his muscles, lower and lower, until you reached his waistband. He was already hard beneath you, and you smiled against the side of his neck. “You seem distracted.”

His breath hitched, but still, he didn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. Instead, one of his hands finally left the reports, gripping your hip tightly. The tension in his body was palpable now, a tight coil ready to snap. 

“You’re always so focused,” you murmured, your lips grazing the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Always so caught up in your work.”

Your fingers worked the fastenings on his pants, pulling his cock out and wrapping your fingers tightly around it. The reaction was immediate — Azirel groaned, low and rough, his hips bucking up into your hand despite himself. 

“Is it hard to concentrate?” you teased, stroking him slowly, torturously, as his grip on your hip tightened. His shadows responded to his building arousal, coiling around your legs, sliding up your thighs and under your clothes with cold, featherlight touches. You moaned softly, arching your back to press closer to him. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled, voice strained as if he were fighting to keep his focus on his work.

“Am I?” you whispered, moving your hips in slow circles, teasing him just as much as your hand was. “I thought you liked a challenge.”

He released the papers and grabbed you with both hands, pulling you hard against him. His lips found your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point as his hips thrust up against you. You gasped, your hand tightening around him as his shadows wrapped tighter around your waist.

With a swift motion, Azriel stood, turning you and bending you over the desk. The cold surface pressed against your chest as he pinned you there with his body. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands moved to your hips, tugging your pants and underwear down just enough to expose your throbbing sex to him. You could feel the heat of him against your bare skin, the hard length of him pressing between your legs as he nudged them apart. 

He didn’t rush. Instead, one of his hands slid back up your body, brushing your hair aside as he leaned over you. His chest was warm against your back, his breath hot in your ear as he whispered, “Stay still.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he straightened up again. One hand remained on your hip, fingers digging into your skin, while the other casually reached for the report he’d been reading. He didn’t even pause as he picked it up, his fingers skimming over the lines of text as though nothing was amiss. 

But you could feel the way his body was coiled with tension, the way his shadows danced along your thighs. And then, without warning, he thrust into you in one swift, hard movement. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as the stretch of him filled you completely.

Azriel groaned softly, a low rumble of satisfaction, but his attention remained on his work. His hips moved in slow strokes, setting an agonizingly slow pace that had you gasping with every thrust. Every time he moved, you felt how he held himself back, his movements measured and precise, even as he buried himself inside you.

He leaned forward slightly, his free hand pressing the report to the desk next to your head. You could hear the faint rustle of paper as he continued reading, his voice low and detached as he muttered something about troop movements.

But then his hand shifted, grabbing another piece of paper. You heard him hum thoughtfully as he scanned the new document. Before you could even react, he dropped the paper on your back, letting it rest there as if you were an extension of his workspace.

It sent a wave of heat through you. His casual dominance, the way he used you, not breaking his focus or rhythm as he fucked you over his desk. You gasped out a moan as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, faster, but still controlled. His free hand came to rest on the small of your back, right on top of the paper he’d set there, holding you firmly in place. The added weight, both literal and figurative, only made you tremble more, your body arching against him as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure. 

Azriel chuckled, the sound dark and low, as if he could feel your struggle. “You wanted my attention,” he rasped, his hand squeezing your hip and planting a firm smack on your ass as he pumped into you faster. “Now you have it.”

You whimpered, your body tightening around him as his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. His hand pressed harder against your back, pinning the paper there as his hips snapped forward with even more force. Each thrust sent the paper rustling against your skin.

“You’re so quiet,” he murmured, his voice almost mocking as he thrust into you again. “What happened?”

You tried to respond, but your words were swallowed by a moan as he shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your knees buckle. Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the desk as his pace grew relentless, his control fraying with every powerful thrust. Without warning, Azriel grabbed a paper and shoved it in front of your face, the rough texture crinkling against your cheek as he thrust into you again.

“Read this for me, will you?” His voice was infuriatingly calm, almost bored as if he wasn’t currently buried inside you, driving you to the brink of sanity. “You… What?” you stammered, the words barely a gasp as his hips snapped forward once more. You tried to focus, your vision swimming, but the pleasure coursing through you made it impossible to form a coherent thought, let alone read.

Azriel clicked his tongue, amused by your struggle. “The report, sweetheart. Read it to me. I need to cross-check some numbers.”

He adjusted the paper in front of you, the words blurring as your mind tried to catch up. Your body trembled under the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, and you struggled to even make sense of the words on the page. But his hand pressed it firmly against the desk, demanding your attention, even as he slammed against you and ground his hips into yours. 

“I… can’t,” you choked out, the pressure inside you building to unbearable levels. Your voice was breathless, shaky, as you desperately tried to focus on the lines of text in front of you.

Azriel’s hand came up to your neck, wrapping around your throat as he leaned over you. His lips crushed your ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Try harder.”

The command sent a chill down your spine, and you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to focus despite the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel him watching you, waiting, as though he had all the time in the world. His pace slowed just enough to make you think you could actually read, but every hard thrust stole your breath and focus again.

Your eyes skimmed the document as best as you could. “The– the units are, uh… a-advancing from the — oh gods — from the southeast and…”

Azriel chuckled softly, the sound dark and indulgent, as his hand on your throat tightened slightly. “You can do better than that. Read it properly.”

You whimpered, the mixture of his control and your own helpless arousal setting every nerve in your body alight. You forced your gaze back to the report, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you tried again. 

“The units… f-from the southeast… are — fuck, Azriel — positioned near the intersection of the Spring, S-Summer, and Autumn borders… They’ve…” you trailed off as another moan tore from your lips, your fingers digging into the edge of the desk as he slammed into you again, harder this time. You tried to turn and face him, but his hand on your throat quickly turned you back around before you could catch more than a glimpse of him looking over the strategy map beside you on the desk. 

His shadows tightened around your thighs, keeping you steady as his thrusts continued, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. But still, he glanced at the paper in front of you, expectant. “Keep going,” he murmured, his tone almost lazy, as if he wasn’t making you come undone with every snap of his hips. 

“They’ve increased n-numbers by nearly…” Your voice faltered again, trembling as pleasure wracked your body, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Nearly eight thousand.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Azriel hummed, still maddeningly calm as he flipped the page with his free hand, his pace never faltering. He scanned the new document, completely at ease, while you struggled to even form a sentence. “Now tell me — what’s the next section say?”

You only moaned in response, your head falling forward onto the desk as he thrust into you again, hitting that spot that made you see stars. Your fingers clawed at the desk, desperate for something to hold onto, but your voice failed you.

Azriel chuckled, low and dark. “What’s wrong? Too distracted?” His grip on your neck tightened a bit more as he continued. “I thought you wanted to help.”

“I– Fuck, I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to spill over. “Azriel, please…”

He hummed thoughtfully as if considering your plea. “Hmm. Maybe you’ve earned a break.” His scarred hands came to grip your hips firmly, pulling you back against him with each thrust. His pace quickened, any pretense of restraint now gone, and the force of his thrusts had you seeing white.

“Come for me,” he growled. The command in his voice, coupled with the relentless rhythm of his body, sent you over the edge.

Your release hit you with a force that left you trembling, gasping his name as your body tightened around him. Azriel followed with a groan, his grip on your hips bruising as he buried himself inside you one last time, spilling into you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the soft rustle of papers beneath you. Azriel slowly loosened his hold on you, his body still pressed against yours as he caught his breath.

Finally, he pulled out, his hands smoothing over your back as he helped you straighten. He tugged your pants back up with a surprising gentleness before stepping around to face you. 

You could barely form a coherent thought, your legs weak and your heart still racing. Azriel, on the other hand, looked as composed as ever, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he glanced down at the papers scattered across the desk, and around you on the floor. 

“You did well,” he said, almost teasing. “Though I think next time, I’ll just handle the reports myself.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @randomgurl2326

@scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @fourthwing4ever

[yuujispinkhair]

Heatwave

The hot weather triggers your heat unexpectedly, but your Alpha Sukuna takes good care of you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x Omega!Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff, omegaverse Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, omegaverse, going into heat, oral, breeding, knotting, praise, biting. Reader is contemplating getting pregnant in the future. Reader and Sukuna are mates. Reader is on birth control but still goes into heat. This is a modern AU. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Part two of my Heatwave Summer Series

It happens while you're at work. Suddenly, the air in your office feels too hot, almost suffocating. It's as if the heatwave that's holding the city in its chokehold those last few days is finally winning. But one look at the a/c tells you that it is still running at full power. You shouldn't feel so hot. Something is wrong. And it has nothing to do with the air conditioning in the SHRINE Group's fancy downtown office.

A strong wave of dizziness hits you, making you knock your coffee cup over, spilling its contents all over your desk. You curse and hastily get up to grab some paper tissues, only to clutch the desk tightly as a strong wave of nausea washes over you. You feel feverish, your pulse is fluttering. And then there is this throbbing. Your eyes widen.

You know these symptoms.

But it's not the right time! You cannot be in heat! Please, not now, not here at work! 

Usually, your heat cycle is under control, and you can plan ahead, take your heat-leave from work, and get comfortable at home in your nest.

But an unexpected heat throws you into chaos. You cannot stay here! You need...

You are out the door in a heartbeat, swaying on unsteady feet but making your way hastily down the hallway towards the large door of the CEO's office, where he is.

Your husband, your mate, your Alpha.

Sukuna.

You are instinctively drawn to him, your mind and body screaming to see him and throw yourself into his strong arms and let him take care of you.

His assistant, Uraume, says something to you, but you cannot make sense of their words. All you know right now is that something is very wrong and that the only one who can make it right again is Sukuna. Before Uraume can stop you, you have already yanked open the door to the CEO's office.

Sukuna is sitting at his luxurious desk, looking as flawless as ever. The only sign that he acknowledges the unusual temperatures is that he has removed his suit jacket and is now in his dark red dress shirt, but his black tie is still perfectly in place.

You gulp when you see how the shirt accentuates his broad figure, hugging his buff muscles deliciously, showing how impressive he is. Not just any Alpha. Sukuna is THE Alpha in this city. Powerful, dominant, attractive, and intelligent. Deadly towards his rivals but caring towards you.

He sits in his leather chair as if it were his throne, oozing confidence and power. Tall and muscular, pink hair styled perfectly, combed back over his undercut, filigree black tattoos decorating his beautiful face enticingly.

His chin rests on the back of his left hand, next to the glittering wedding ring that shows he belongs to you.

His beautiful maroon eyes snap to the door, with a dangerous glint in them upon getting disturbed. But that expression melts into a soft one when Sukuna sees who entered his office. He smirks and raises one eyebrow.

"Oh, darling. Did you miss me?"

But his teasing manner gets replaced by a worried expression when he sees the feverish state you are in.

Sukuna is by your side only a second later, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you against his broad chest. He is always so protective of his mate. You snuggle against him gratefully, pushing your nose against your Alpha's shirt, inhaling his comforting scent as you cling to him.

Sukuna's face presses lightly against the side of your neck, sniffing you, too. His breath brushes over your skin, and suddenly, Sukuna tenses up against you. His arms tighten their hold around you, and a low growl escapes his lips,

"You are in heat."

Before you even know what's happening, Sukuna has already grabbed his suit jacket from his chair and holds it out for you,

"Put this on, sweetheart. Let's get you home."

He gently puts the jacket over your shoulders, wrapping you in his scent while leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your neck. You almost sob in relief.

Sukuna's right hand comes to rest on the small of your back, and he gently but firmly steers you towards the door. You pass his assistant's desk, who hurries to get up, but Sukuna makes them stop with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Uraume, I will be out of the office for the rest of the day. Probably tomorrow, too. Please re-schedule all my appointments."

He keeps you in front of him while you walk down the hallway towards the elevator. The strong Alpha protecting his mate. Shielding your back, pressing his tall and muscular body against you.

No one would be crazy enough to dare approach Sukuna's omega, yet he never lets his guard down when it comes to you. The thought makes your heart ache with how much you love him.

There are some curious glances coming from some of your coworkers that you pass in the hallway, but Sukuna growls at them in a deadly calm voice,

"Get back to work. If I catch anyone so much as breathing in her scent, you are fired."

Your heart and your pussy throb for him.

You make it to the elevator and down to the underground parking space, where Sukuna helps you gently into his car.

You sound a bit hysterical when you say,

"I... I don't understand what is going on, Kuna. It's much too soon for my heat to start. And it feels... it feels different. Stronger somehow. It doesn't feel right!"

But Sukuna's voice is calm, velvety like a warm caress, instantly soothing your nerves,

"I have heard of cases where a sudden climate change triggered a heat. Maybe the current heatwave is to blame for this. Don't worry, my love. I am going to look after you."

He smiles his most charming smile at you. His large hand cups your cheek and caresses it lovingly, soothing you and reassuring you that things will be okay.

You smile at him gratefully,

"Thank you, Kuna. But you have that important meeting with the Infinity Group in an hour. I feel bad that I am keeping you from work..."

Sukuna huffs and shakes his head,

"It doesn't matter, darling. Uraume can re-schedule it. You will always be more important to me than work or anything else. I am your Alpha and your mate. I provide for you. I take care of you at all times. And now, lean back and try to relax while I drive us home so I can take proper care of you."

His beautiful maroon eyes glitter as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it tenderly while he fixes you with a gaze that holds so much fierceness and intensity that it leaves no room for doubt.

This is a command from your Alpha, and you will obey.

His words make something primal in you come alive. A soft moan escapes your lips, and your legs press together automatically as the all-too-familiar throbbing in your core flares up at your Alpha's words.

Yes, you need him to take proper care of you. You need him to breed you, to stuff you full of his Alpha cock and his hot seed.

You whine as you feel your slick coating your pussy lips, drenching your panties and probably the fine leather seat beneath you, too.

But you manage a nod and let out a long breath as you lean back in your seat and snuggle even deeper into Sukuna's suit jacket, burying your nose in the collar of it and breathing in your Alpha's scent deeply while Sukuna turns up the a/c and backs out of the parking space.

The moment you step into your penthouse apartment, you feel relief wash over you. Yes, this feels right. This is where you are supposed to be today. Here in your home, in your nest, where everything is safe and smells like your mate.

You feel a sob finding its way out of your lips as you slump against the wall.

The cool air-conditioned air of the apartment should feel good on your skin. It should help you cool down again. But it doesn't. This form of heat cannot be tamed. You still need so much more.

Your legs press together involuntarily as you feel another violent throbbing between your thighs, even more intense than the last one. A deep craving so feral that it cannot be silenced. Your panties are wet with your slick. They stick to your swollen pussy uncomfortably.

Your body is preparing itself for your Alpha. Slicked-up cunt, wet and hot, ready to get mounted and stuffed full of a big knot and generous amounts of seed.

The thought alone is enough to make you tremble. You need your Alpha, your mate, your husband. You need Sukuna. You need his strong arms around you, need his soothing low voice, need the comfort of his buff body against you, his firm muscles under your hands, and the bliss of his knot deep inside your aching cunt.

You shudder with arousal when he steps up to you, caging you between his beefy body and the wall. His strong arms wrap around you, steadying you and enveloping you in your mate's familiar, intoxicating scent.

Sukuna smells of cherry blossoms and smoke and a warm, rich flavor that you associate with a deep red color, like love, passion, red wine and autumn leaves. Warm and sexy, comforting like home, and powerful like a wildfire burning down whole cities in its way.

He leans down to press his face against your neck, breathing you in deeply, finally allowing himself to let go now that you are in your shared home. A low growl escapes his mouth as his lips caress your skin.

"Fuck. Your scent drives me crazy. My sweet little omega needs me so bad."

You can only whine in response, helplessly getting swallowed by the primal instinct that always takes hold of you during your heat. You aren't in control anymore. From now on, it's raw instinct. The primal need to get bred.

Your hands cling to Sukuna's muscular back as you press yourself needily against your Alpha's tall, strong body. You can smell his need for you, the scent of his arousal so musky and thick and seductive that it makes your head spin. His hardness is pressing against you through his suit pants, cock already swelling for you, filling for his omega that needs to get mounted and stuffed full of a big Alpha cock.

It's how nature intended it. An omega in heat and a strong Alpha to take care of them.

And your Alpha is the strongest Alpha you ever encountered. Powerful and dominant like no other. So dedicated to providing for you, to take care of you.

Sukuna claims your lips with a heated and passionate kiss, pushing you against the wall, making you moan needily into his mouth as he licks into you with hungry, deep strokes of his tongue. But the kiss only lasts for a moment, and you whine at the loss of Sukuna's mouth on yours when he pulls away with one last open-mouthed flick of his tongue against yours.

You feel feverish with need as your Alpha drops to his knees in front of you. A sight that always leaves you breathless. To see this powerful man on his knees for you. On his knees for his mate, for his wife. He looks up at you with glimmering maroon eyes and that typical sexy smirk on his handsome face.

You exhale shakily, but it comes out as a growl as your instincts take over, your heat making you a victim of your body's most primal urge.

"A.. Alpha.. please...I need you...aah ah. Kuna..."

"I got you, darling. I'll take good care of you, my love."

Sukuna's voice is so low and sexy that it makes your pussy twitch with need, overflowing with your creamy slick. His large hands land on your thighs, steadying you, fixing you to the wall, strong fingers that leave bruises on their way, but it's what you need in those moments. Getting marked and claimed by your Alpha.

You shudder under his touch, your body instantly reacting to your Alpha's loving hands. A thin rivulet of slick is slowly running down your left thigh, feeling cold on your heated skin when the air-conditioned air lands on it.

But the chilly feeling gets replaced by the velvety warmth of Sukuna's tongue. He growls in the back of his throat while he catches your creamy slick with his tongue, slowly following the trail up your thigh, licking it off your skin, making you moan and tremble, almost coming undone.

Your hands reach out blindly to tangle in Sukuna's soft pink hair, tugging desperately on it, pulling him needily to where you need him the most. To that throbbing wild ache between your legs. But Sukuna is already one step ahead of you. His large, strong hands run up your thigh, slipping under your skirt and pushing it up to reveal your soaked-through panties to his intense gaze.

You whimper when you see the hunger in your Alpha's eyes. He desires you just as much as you desire him.

A second later, Sukuna's beautiful face is pressed against your drenched lace panties, his soft lips attached to your puffy clit, sucking it through the thin fabric. Your hips buck and a feral-sounding cry falls from your lips as your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud.

You push your wet heat needily against Sukuna's face, tugging on his hair, moaning his name so loud and desperately that you would be ashamed under other circumstances. But today, your most primal instincts have taken hold of you, and you cannot be bothered to care about how horny you sound.

A tearing sound is heard. Sukuna ripped your panties off you, exposing your soaked, puffy cunt to his hungry eyes, making both of you growl, filling the penthouse with your mating calls.

Sukuna pushes his nose between your pussy lips, making it rub over your sensitive, swollen clit, drawing another loud, needy moan from your lips.

You are hypnotized by the sight of your Alpha rubbing his pretty face against your pussy, smearing your cream over his gorgeous features, and watching you while he does so with desire and love clearly visible in his maroon eyes.

It's so messy. You are so messy, pussy overflowing with slick, clearly in a full-blown heat, luring your Alpha in with your scent, demanding his seed, his knot, his pups. It's pure primal need at this point. A state that leaves you a horny, needy mess every time.

Sukuna buries his face between your spread legs, growling lowly. Your head spins when you see him take a deep breath, inhaling your scent hungrily.

"You smell so good, darling. I'm going to breed you all night."

His voice is low, dripping with sex and arousal and dominance. His tongue flicks over your wet clit, making your legs give away. But Sukuna's hands hold you in their firm grip, pushing you against the wall and fixing you there as his tongue moves through your slicked-up folds, tasting you, drinking you. He pushes his long, hot tongue into you, eliciting a cry from you as your eager pussy twitches wildly around his muscle.

But it's not enough to satisfy the craving you feel. You need his cock. You need his hot seed filling you until you are so full of it that you are overflowing.

Your Alpha knows this, of course. Before you can beg him for more, Sukuna is already back on his feet again, towering over you so tall and big, growling in the back of his throat as he looks at you with a fire in his eyes and a massive bulge in his black slacks.

He swoops you up into his buff arms, making you whimper with need. You can't help but feel your pulse flutter at how small you feel in the arms of this huge Alpha. He is such a beast, so strong, so big. And he is so dedicated to fuck you right. To fuck your heat away.

"I'll take care of you, my sweet little omega-wife. Your Alpha's gonna take good care of you."

You nod feverishly, feeling the sweat run down your back and more slick coating your swollen pussy lips as Sukuna carries you princess style to the bedroom, one large hand slipping between your legs to play with your pussy, caressing it tenderly, fucking you slowly with this thick thumb, taking care of you until you can get his big Alpha cock to satisfy your need.

Your hands run over his muscular chest, needily clawing at his clothes in your desperation to feel your Alpha's skin on yours.

He smiles when he places you carefully on the King-sized bed. It is a display of power, proving just how powerful of an Alpha Sukuna is that he is able to stay in control even when his omega is in heat and exuding pheromones that make Sukuna's cock throb.

His touch is firm and sure when he undresses you, removing your clothes until you are completely naked, every inch of your skin brimming with need and lust, your needy cunt oozing slick onto the silk bedding, begging to get touched by your Alpha.

You feel feverish as you watch your husband get undressed, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing more and more of his tattoed skin and firm muscles.

He pushes down his slacks and black boxer briefs to reveal his Alpha cock to your hungry gaze, resting thick and strong against his taut abs. A fat vein is pulsating gorgeously on the underside, and two black rings are tattoed around the thick base to show Sukuna's status as a powerful Alpha. His cock stands rock-hard, leaking milky pre-cum. His balls are taut and round, heavy with his precious seed that contains the antidote to your ache.

A desperate sob escapes your lips. Your chest heaves with your excited breaths, almost hyperventilating in your need for Sukuna.

Your legs are already spread, and you pull them to your chest, instinctively presenting yourself to the powerful Alpha in front of you, presenting him your breedable cunt, wet and needy. Ready to get claimed by his fat cock.

Your breath hitches in your throat as Sukuna's glittering gaze lands on you, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips as he takes in your naked, willing body, so wild for him and his knot.

He slowly walks over to the bed, maroon eyes watching you hungrily. Like a predator stalking his prey, the big bad wolf who is about to take his victim. A very willing victim, though. His mate, with a scar in the shape of his canines on your neck, with a wedding band on your ring finger, with a wet cunt that aches for his knot.

He is your man. Your Alpha. There could never be another for you. You are Sukuna's for life.

You submit to him eagerly when he crawls over you, naked and muscular, with his buff muscles and black tattoos fully on display for your love-drunk eyes. So big and strong on top of you. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your whole world.

He smiles at you while his maroon eyes glimmer with that fire they always get when he is about to mount you and fuck your heat away.

His lips catch yours in a deep kiss, tongue licking sensually into your mouth, making your pussy twitch and your hands run needily up and down his broad, muscular back. His thick mushroom tip drips his hot pre-cum onto your belly, making you hiss into the kiss with need.

Sukuna flicks his tongue against yours once more before he pulls away to grin at you,

"Turn around, darling. On your stomach, like a good girl. I want to breed you right. You need me extra deep in you today, don't you, omega?"

But your mind is too blurry to answer him. It doesn't matter, though, because Sukuna is there to take control. To take care of you. His large, strong hands are already grabbing your hips and flipping you over on your stomach, so dominant, so strong, but so gentle and loving at the same time.

You keen into the silk pillow underneath your face that smells of your Alpha, lifting your ass needily for him, offering yourself to him, begging to get mated and knotted.

You are in good hands with Sukuna. In the best hands. He is the most powerful Alpha of this city, or maybe even of this whole country. And he fucks you like the natural leader that he is.

He pushes your thighs apart, lowering his beefy body on top of you, pressing you down into the mattress, offering the comfort of his heavy weight on top of you.

He rolls his hips against you, making his thick, wet cockhead slap your puffy clit several times before it catches on your slicked-up hole, making you writhe beneath him in your horny need to get taken by your Alpha.

You cry loudly into the pillow when Sukuna snaps his hips and buries his fat cock deep inside your needy cunt with one powerful thrust.

You orgasm the moment he is sheaved fully inside you, pussy twitching needily around him, slick gushing over him, welcoming him with the first orgasm of many, milking his fat cock wildly, begging for his fertile seed to fill you. Begging him to fuck his pups into you.

Your hands claw helplessly at the silk pillow as you try to get more of your man, lifting your ass and pressing against him, moaning and crying, face wet with tears while you sob and whine for his cock and his seed and his knot.

"More...please...Alpha...more...oh god...Sukuna!!"

But your Alpha is there for you, soothing you. Dominant and strong. Sukuna leans down to kiss your neck, resting even more of his weight on you. One of his large hands captures both your wrists in his firm grip and fixes them above your head, restraining you effortlessly, stopping your desperate movements.

You sob in relief, feeling so taken care of with your Alpha's buff body on top of you, restraining you, anchoring you on his cock.

The headboard of your bed thumps rhythmically against the wall as Sukuna fucks you into the mattress with deep, hard strokes of his big Alpha cock. He is so deep inside you, rutting into your needy, wet cunt with his powerful thrusts, mounting you hard and unrelentingly.

He knows exactly what his omega needs. Knows how to breed you the right way to fuck you through your heat.

His big Alpha cock makes you squeal and cry with lust as he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sukuna growls against your neck, low and sexy, making your head spin. He sounds so hot. So full of primal need, too.

Your cunt clenches greedily around his fat Alpha cock when you feel him cum for the first time, filling you with the first thick load of his hot seed. You're crying as you milk him eagerly, taking all his precious, fertile seed deep into you, your body so eager to carry his pups.

Sharp teeth graze over your skin, and then Sukuna bites your neck and marks you up again, right where he left his first mark on you when he mated you and made you his for life. His name falls from your lips in a needy moan.

Sukuna's hips move rhythmically, rutting into you with savage, deep thrusts. His cock is stroking all the right places inside you, and his heavy balls full of seed smack wetly against your pussy with every powerful thrust, loud and wet, spreading your slick everywhere. It's drooling out of your cunt and onto his balls, making a mess on his cock and the bed, getting fucked back into you with every hard snap of your Alpha's hips.

It drives you wild. You are lost in your heat, growling and whining for your strong Alpha to fuck all the madness away.

And Sukuna does just that. He always makes everything feel right again. He always takes all the chaos and turns it into something he has under control. So dominant, so strong. He is the master of your heat.

Sukuna fucks you for hours without any sign of weakness. His cock stays rock hard all the time, swollen and thick, so perfect for filling you and making you cum again and again until you are so exhausted that you tremble weakly under his muscular body. But you know you don't have to do anything. You have Sukuna to take care of you.

He gives you anything you need. His cock, his seed, his love.

His low, velvety voice is so sexy when he leans down to whisper in your ear while he humps your soaking wet pussy slowly,

"Yeah, like that, my sweet thing. Taking your Alpha's seed so well. You would carry my pups so well. You are such a good omega for me."

You whine loudly, trying to reply to him, but at this point, you are just a babbling mess, crying and sobbing, trying desperately to get even more of Sukuna, even though you are already stuffed to the hilt with his thick Alpha cock, your cunt overflowing with his hot cum.

But Sukuna knows what you need. Of course, he does. You don't have to tell him.

"Shhh. I know, sweetheart. I know. I got you. Relax, my love."

His voice is soothing, full of dominance and love, and you feel his soft, warm lips caress your neck tenderly right over your mating mark before they press a lingering kiss to it.

"I'll give you my knot. I'll give you all of me."

He bucks his hips, pushing his thick cock as deep into your slick cunt as possible, stuffing you with it, and pressing you down into the bed with his weight. And then you feel it. The stretch.

The swelling at the base of Sukuna's cock is growing steadily, stretching your pussy around his growing knot. He is so huge, so powerful, the Alpha of all Alphas, and that shows in his size.

You always struggle to take all of him, to take his massive knot. But you crave it tonight. You need it desperately. You need to be claimed fully by your Alpha. You need to be plugged with Sukuna's fat knot for hours, keeping all his hot seed inside your aching omega cunt that's begging for his pups.

Sukuna trails kisses over your neck, soothing you, helping you relax. He lets go of your wrists, so he can massage your puffy clit, helping you become loose for his huge knot.

"It's ok, my love. Just let go. I'm gonna knot you so good."

You whine, eyes rolling back in bliss when you feel his fat knot swell even more, filling you so completely. You're his. You're Sukuna's. You aren't going anywhere. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't run from him. He has you on his knot, and your whole body is covered by his buff, muscular body. It's perfect. It makes you feel so taken care of. So loved.

Sukuna groans, moaning your name softly, praising you for being such a good omega for him and letting him knot you. His large hands come up to cover the backs of your much smaller hands, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Hot tears of bliss run down your cheeks and into the silk pillow beneath you. You are surrounded by Sukuna. He is your whole world. He is all you know in those frantic moments of primal fucking. His big muscular body feels so perfect on top of you, his fat knot plugging your twitching cunt, keeping all his warm seed deep inside your aching cunt. His enticing, musky Alpha scent is everywhere, filling your nostrils, making your head spin from the love you feel for him.

This is the closest you can be to someone. Knotted by your Alpha. Completely giving yourself to him, submitting to him entirely, trusting him with everything. You sob Sukuna's name, your voice so full of love and devotion, mumbling incoherently as your head spins and your pussy throbs around his huge, swollen knot.

And he humps you slowly, as much as his fat knot allows. Slow, gentle thrusts that make his swollen cockhead rub your sweet spot, fucking you into a state of complete bliss. He growls praise into your ear every time you orgasm on his knot, telling you how good you are for him.

This is where you want to stay forever. Here in your bed, in your nest, where Sukuna mates you, fucks you, claims you over and over again. Where he cums in you over and over again, filling you with rope after rope of his hot seed while he growls your name and groans in your ear.

Your orgasms become more gentle with time, building up slowly only to make you cry in relief when they wash over you, so good, so intense that you feel like you are floating. You shudder around your Alpha's cock, whining his name and milking him with your convulsing pussy, taking all his thick loads of Alpha seed into your needy cunt.

It's dark by now. Only the moonlight and the city lights outside your window illuminate the bedroom, but you and Sukuna remain in your mating position. His thick Alpha cock and knot stuffing your omega cunt, your bodies pressing tightly against each other. Your movements grow slower, and loud growls and cries of pleasure turn into soft moans and whispered words of love. After a while, Sukuna rolls the two of you onto the side, pulling the blanket over you, getting more comfortable. But he keeps you on his cock and his knot all the time.

You sigh dreamily as Sukuna wraps you in his muscular arms, holding you tightly, kissing your neck while whispering the sweetest things to you. He is so good to you, so loving and sweet. Mating you, anchoring you, satisfying you for as long as you need.

You smile, almost delirious with happiness and love, feeling so full and taken care of.

"This is perfect. Please stay like this, Kuna. Don't go, please."

He laughs softly, sounding warm and full of love.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love. I am not leaving when my darling needs me so bad. I have all day and night to knot you and fill you with my seed. I love you, baby."

He cups your chin with one of his large hands and tilts your head back to capture your lips in a deep, hungry kiss while his Alpha cock pulses another load of hot cum into you. Sukuna's lips are soft against yours, his tongue stroking yours tenderly. Deep, passionate kisses that grow calmer eventually, turning into slow, sensual caresses.

You stay like that the whole night.

Sukuna lets you have his knot for hours. The sun is already rising again over the city, bathing the skyscrapers in its warm golden light, when the swell of Sukuna's knot slowly starts to subside.

He finally slips out of you, but not without kissing you tenderly, making sure you know he is still there for you. He's such a caring mate. Such a good Alpha.

You smile at Sukuna when he gets up from the bed. His warm maroon gaze meets yours, and he grins at you, making you marvel at how beautiful he is, with his buff muscles and filigree tattoos, with the soft expression on his gorgeous face, his half-hard cock still glistening from your slick and his seed while the sun rises behind him outside the floor to ceiling windows of your penthouse.

Sukuna picks up the shirt he abandoned on the floor yesterday and hands it to you.

"Here, sweetheart, something for your nest. Get cozy while I get breakfast for you."

You sigh happily as you snuggle into your bed, holding Sukuna's shirt tightly and inhaling his comforting scent. You feel so content, so calm, and so loved. Wrapped in your Alpha's scent, filled with his cum, and marked by his teeth. Just like it should be.

A wave of gratefulness washes over you. You are so lucky to have Sukuna as your mate, as your Alpha. He is so strong and caring, always loving and breeding you right.

You are on birth control, so his seed won't take. But you catch yourself thinking that maybe one day, you will have Sukuna's pups. Maybe soon, it'll be time to give this world a few more strong Alphas like him.

AAAAHHH ALPHA SUKUNA DRIVES ME FERAL 💗😭 This story became much longer than intended. But I cannot be blamed. I am just a little omega, and naturally, Alpha Sukuna makes me lose control A LOT lmaooo.

I hope you enjoyed this story and that Alpha Sukuna could comfort you with his dominant and caring nature ;)

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon's body matures into its prime. There's only one mate he wants. #GhostPriceWeek.

Day One: Confession/Kneel.

cw: omegaverse, penetrative sex, dubcon by nature of Price's sex negative attitude, gentle sex, bonding. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon wasn't sure what had changed or why, but he knew he was looking at Price differently these days and he couldn't ignore it for much fuckin’ longer. It was driving him even more insane than he already was.

Price had been helping him–them, all of ‘em–through ruts for the last few years. When it had just been the two of them, Simon would spend the few days leave in Price's Hereford flat exhausting himself between Price's legs and then they would return to normal once the cycle had passed. It had been hard at first, trusting someone, but like in everything, Price had his back. He had only ever treated Simon with dignity and respect.

When the other two joined, Simon didn't bat an eyelid. It made sense. Price was logical like that; easier for them to fuck him and get it over with in a few days, than long it out over a week and risk them snooping around the local villages, potentially ending up with a pup brewing and an angry farmer at the barrack gates with a shotgun. Johnny had priors with it too. Simon had seen the indiscretions on his record, and Gaz was so painfully good-looking that Simon wouldn't be surprised if there were already a few Garrick pups knocking about North London. 

The arrangement bloody worked. Everyone seemed satisfied. So why had Simon started… yearning?

The word had appeared when he'd googled his symptoms one day in a coffee shop. He'd headed off base to do it because all the search histories passed over Price's desk at some point, with questionable or worrying shit highlighted by the IT team for review, and he really didn't need that conversation. “Why are your guts aching, Simon? Do you need medical?” Price would ask, that stern line between his brows, lips pressed down in a deep frown. 

No, sir, my intestines seem to twist themselves in knots every time I see you shirtless at the moment and I can't stop thinkin' about how much I want to shove my tongue down yer throat, now about that requisition form… 

But it wouldn't be like that. Simon would stand there in dumb silence trying to find the words to explain that being around Price at the moment made him ache in ways he had never experienced before. That when he was alone in his own flat a short bus ride away from base, he thought of their time together with a hand around his knot and his knuckles between his teeth. He thought about how good the indomitable John Price would look in the throes of heat, completely vulnerable.

He must have been acting differently, because Price had become more distant. Detached, almost. He was shorter, sharper, than Simon had ever known him to be, even when his temper occasionally flared in the face of red tape and stupidity. Simon needed to get this, whatever this was, under control.

Sitting in that café with his black coffee and Bakewell tart, Simon had learned that an alpha of his age was reaching full maturity and his body was ready to find a permanent mate. By mid-thirties, an alpha’s strength and esteem within a pack was fully established, or it would be if the world still worked like it did a few thousand years ago. If they were still in loincloths, Simon would have battered his fair share of pack alphas and worked his way to the top by now. An omega would select him as worthy and choose him to father their pups. His body was just doing what it had done throughout millennia. Preparing.

In all honesty, his sex ed’ had been woefully lacking. Partly because the mixed comprehensive he had attended had been in special measures and the PSHE lessons had been all out brawls at some points, but also because his attendance had dropped below fifty percent fairly regularly throughout his compulsory education. ‘Very intelligent and capable, but limited by his frequent absences,’ had been his school report a few months before he had scraped just enough GCSEs to fall into a trade apprenticeship, and then September eleventh had happened and his whole world outlook had changed.

The guidance on the website also told him that his scent would change. That he might experience more attention from fertile omegas, and notice their scents more, their bodies. There was a paragraph about consent that followed and Simon had winced at the implications of needing it. He had met enough knotheads in his time even outside his own deranged father, fuckin’ Roba, to know why it was there. While most omegas were dominant and fierce by nature, the modern world had flipped things. Sometimes it just wasn't that straight forward.

The notes said it would pass. By late forties, his hormones would ebb away to normal levels again and by then he'd either be mated or, in his case, probably dead. The odds weren’t exactly in his bloody favour with his current choice of career. They also said his attention would probably flit between options, from omega to omega, as his body sought to spread its genetics as far as possible.

Except it fucking didn't, did it?

There were other omegas on base. A gorgeous blonde in logistics with tits and arse for days, a strapping redheaded mechanic with strong thighs and a pretty smile, then there was the brunette in medical. But those are cursory observations. Simon saw them as attractive in the detached manner you looked at someone who was attractive in the traditional sense. Yeah, he could see it, but he didn't want it.

He wanted Price. His fockin’ captain.

Tart and coffee finished, Simon had headed back to base. He tried to exhaust himself in the gym, finished some paperwork, and eventually wandered to the mess hall for some dinner. It was just as he was tucking into a pile of mashed potatoes and gravy that his phone pinged. 

CJP: My office.

Simon chucked his tray onto the trolley and headed out. By the time he was knocking on Price's door, his heart was beating hard in anticipation. Of fuckin’ what, he had no idea. Clearly needed to watch less porn because the image his mind provided of Price spread out on his desk, presenting, was bloody unhelpful.

“Simon.” Price acknowledged him with a glance as he shut the door behind him. The room was warm, the old radiator beneath the window chucking out more heat than was strictly necessary this early in October. The lights were dim too, the brightness on Price's monitor turned down lower, and there was a subtle, sweet scent beneath the must of paper, furniture polish and old wallpaper that usually hung in the air. 

The primal part of Simon recognised it for what it was, and the rest of him caught up as he got a good look at Price; his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes bright. Pre-heat. Price was getting more sensitive to everything; light, the cold. The smell in here had to be bloody awful to his sensitive nose. Simon blinked slowly, taking a deep breath through the fabric of the mask just to taste more of that glorious promise. If he could lick it out of the air, he would.

“We've got a problem,” Price murmured, slumping back in his chair, his fingers wounded together over his belly.

Simon didn't need to ask. He knew. “S’not a problem, sir. I can keep it under control.”

Price looked down, his face twisting in a brief grimace as he considered the edge of his desk. “S’not just you, Simon. It's me as well.”

Simon blinked, shifting his weight. “Wot?”

“Yer think I can't smell ya? When ya left the gym few hours ago I was meetin’ with Saunders about some performance data. Could smell ya from the otherside of the corridor.”

“Weren’t that fockin’ bad…”

“T’ normal man, no.”

There was an edge in Price's voice. Simon knew his secondary sex was a sore spot. If Price could have chosen, he would have been born an alpha. He despised everything about what he viewed as his ‘condition’. No one else knew, of course. The captain played his personal life close to his chest. Most of the time people assumed he was an alpha and didn’t look any closer. He was six foot two, built like a soldier should be; there was no reason to assume otherwise.

Perfect in every way, Simon's mind offered unhelpfully. Followed by an intrusive thought about how strong and intelligent their pups would be. Fuckin’ ‘ell.

“Was’the plan?”

Because there was always a plan and Simon would follow Price into hellfire if he asked. 

“Thought about sending you away, reassigning you,” Price said, his gaze flicking up to level Simon with a pensive look. “Bu’ I couldn't. Need ya. 141 needs ya.” 

Simon realised he could breathe again. The mere idea that Price would send him away - to fuckin’ where? No reasonable officer would take him on - left him frozen, every muscle seizing like he'd been turned to stone. Need ya.

Not just the 141. But Price. Price needed him.

“Then wot? Wot we doin’ ‘ere?” Simon’s voice crackled, the words cloying in his throat.

That grimace was back. A pinched look of regret pulled Price’s lips back, his eyes squinting. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and breathed in a deep breath through his nose. “Gonna ask ya sommin’. Ya can say no. S’your right t’ say no. Ya’understand?”

Simon’s fingers clenched into his palms, and he dipped his chin in a barely perceptible nod. 

“This… whatever it is. Could put ‘em danger, Johnny, Gaz, any soldier we have with us. It's foggin’ our minds, distractin’ us. I can't afford that in the field,” Price spoke slowly, like he was trying to reason with himself as well as Simon. “Way I see it is we need t’ nip it in the bud. Best way to do that is give it what it needs. A bond.”

An errant gust of wind could have knocked Simon to the floor at that moment. Like a giant rotten oak tree barely clinging on in the soil. His mouth went dry, huffing in another deep lungful of Price's scent as his heart accelerated in his chest. 

“I know ‘m askin’ a lot of ya. More an’ I ever have. But what we do, the greater good we fight for, s’too important t’--”

“Yeah.”

“Wot?”

“Yeah, I'll do it. I wan’ it. Wan’ you.” The confession tripped out of Simon's mouth before he could stop it. He stepped up to the desk, his hands planting on the surface, which, in hindsight, had probably been a poor choice. He watched Price tense in his chair briefly, before he slowly rose to his feet, weathered palms planting opposite Simon's to level him with a stern look.

“That's the hormones talkin’. Ya need t’ think it through.”

“Naw, I don’t,” Simon said, studying the freckles on Price's face, the sun damage on his forehead, the wrinkles around bright blue eyes, strong jaw framed by his uneven beard. A face he linked with safety and certainty and leadership. “S'you, s’always been you.”

Price dropped his eyes away, his head hanging for a moment, the sigh that followed sounded dog tired. When he looked up, those blue eyes had hardened, the light dulled.. “Simon, ya committin’ to a bond. S’for life. And ya not gettin’ a sweet thing that’ll fawn over ya. I'm not gonna give ya a pup, no family of yer own, ‘m not gonna kneel for ya, not gonna walk barefoot round yer kitchen, do ya laundry. ‘m not some pretty arm piece, Simon. Few years of lookin’, ya might find yerself a proper mate.”

“Don't care ‘bout any of that. Never have.” 

“Because ya never gave yerself a chance,” Price growled, rubbing at his face again. “Take a day. Think about it. Fer…” he swallowed, “...fer me, if not for yerself.”

Simon could smell something new. It was bitter on the back of his tongue. Distress. He lifted one of his hands without thinking, reaching for Price's face, but the captain flinched back. It was an involuntary response and Simon hated himself for causing it. “Sorry,” he grunted, fingers curling into his palm. 

“S’fine, jus’...” Price stood up straight, adjusting his t-shirt, thumbs hooking in his belt. Recovering himself, “...go, fink it over, don't give me an answer ‘til tomorrow after work.” 

“Right.” Simon stepped back from the desk even though every instinct was screaming at him to protect Price from whatever was causing that smell. There was no immediate threat so he couldn't even fight something; his entire skill set rendered useless in the face of whatever battle was going on inside Price's head. “See you for mornin’ briefing, sir.”

Price nodded. Simon left.

He didn't sleep that night. He stared up into the gloomy grey above his bed, wholly fixated on the parting image of Price, his face pinched, his scent riddled with distress and misery. He didn't want this, did he? Didn't want Simon like Simon wanted him. But what was new? Simon was perpetually unwanted. It was the story of his life. 

This was the right thing though. For the 141 and, Simon knew, for him. A mate like Price was more than he could have ever aspired to in normal circumstances. He had resigned himself to dying unbonded, to never experiencing what it felt like to be one with another person, to hear their voice and feel peace, to smell their scent and feel joy, to taste their skin, hold them, and feel whole. 

He had given himself to Price in all but bond anyway. This was a natural next step, even if Price himself seemed conflicted. It was an imperfect solution, riddled with grey, the cracks in the facade papered over, but that was them through and through.

The following day went by slower than a slug crawling across a salt flat. Price was nowhere to be found, sequestered away in his office while he tried to tidy up urgent matters before his three days of booked leave. Simon ran courses with the new batch of rookies up for selection and sparred with Johnny in the gym. The opportunity to exercise his physicality was welcome. His body was strong, capable, the best part of him. The part of him that would serve Price loyally. 

After dinner, Simon headed back to Price's office and tapped the door. The voice from the other side sounded even more exhausted than it had the night before. “Simon,” Price said, not looking up from the form in front of him. “Got yer answer then?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, “it's a yes. I accept. I… wan’ to bond with ya.”

Price placed his pen down slowly and leaned back in his chair. There was sweat on his temples and Simon could smell him even stronger than the day before. Fuckin’ delicious. “Right,” Price said. “Simon, you, uh… you need to know my heat, it's uhm… I find it difficult. Never shared it with anyone before.”

Simon could see Price's discomfort. How much he hated exposing this vulnerability. He sniffed, scratched his chin, and finally looked up at Simon's masked face. Simon blinked slowly. “S’ok. We’ll take it at your pace. You headin’ off tonight?”

Price glanced at the duffel bag on the chair by the window and nodded. “Yeah. You, uh… we can wait ‘til next time if you were savin’ yer leave for somethin’ special.”

“Naw, I'm good. You alright to put it through so I can go shove some pants in a bag?”

Price huffed. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, not only approvin’ your leave requests but now I'm fillin’ ‘em in for you lazy bastards.” He tapped at his keyboard and jutted his chin at the door. “G'won. Leavin’ base at nine. Don't be late.”

Simon left Price to do his paperwork and headed back to his quarters. He grabbed some underwear, some clean t-shirts and a pair of flannel shorts, his headphones and the Asimov paperwork he was chewing through at the average pace of a single page every three days. Omegas needed to sleep at some point, right? 

The final hour for departure sped by and soon Simon was heading out into the base car park to find Price's old Land Rover chugging away on the tarmac. Price sat in the driver's seat, wrapped in his coat and scarf, beanie pulled low over his ears, breathing into his hands.

“All good?” Price asked as Simon climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. You… uh, you ok to drive?”

Price’s jaw twitched and Simon regretted opening his stupid fucking mouth. “Yeah. Fine. Stupor will set in later. Once I'm…” his voice dropped, “nesting.” He said it like it was an embarrassing admission, not a natural part of his instincts and cycle. Simon didn't probe any further and sat in silence as Price pushed the Landie into first and pulled away. The drive into town was quiet. Price turned on the radio once they'd pulled off base and they listened to the latest chart on BBC Hereford & Worcester. 

Price had a little one bedroom flat in Leominster that he commuted from most days. Sometimes he kipped over in the barracks after a long shift and it wasn't unusual to find him asleep in the rec room if a briefing had over run and he was too tired to drive back. The 141 knew it well as they had spent their ruts there since they'd joined the task force. It was cozy, clean, with traces of their captain as a man rather than a legend. 

When Simon stepped through the front door, the Land Rover tucked up for the night in the carport, he drew in a deep breath and felt his eyes flutter. He shed his coat and kicked his boots off and watched with no small amount of affection as Price grabbed them immediately to stack next to his, before slipping into a pair of well trodden slippers. “Brew?” Price asked as they headed into the open plan living room.

“Yeah, gaspin’,” Simon said, placing his duffel down by the arm of the couch before slumping into the middle of it. The material was a well worn brushed cotton, with two tartan fleece blankets thrown over the back. Simon pulled his mask over his head and ruffled a hand through his flattened hair, before burying his newly naked face into the scent of Price soaked into the soft material. He could picture him here in the evenings, wrapped up and snoozing, probably snoring his bloody head off like he did on op. But relaxed, at home, nested.

“Yer like a fuckin’ bloodhound,” Price grumbled as he walked over, a steaming mug of tea clutched in each hand. 

“I ain't drinkin’ outta that Liverpool mug.”

“Ahh, wind yer neck in, it's mine.” Price dumped the other mug on the coffee table in front of Simon, and then fell into the armchair. Still keeping a slight distance. This was different from when they met to weather Simon's rut. Simon was the vulnerable one in that and he trusted Price implicitly, but now their roles were reversed, and Price wasn’t used to not holding the leash. 

Simon slurped a mouthful of tea - perfect brew, strong, two sugars - and glanced at the telly when Price switched it on. The ten o’clock news, a slew of reports about how the world was going to shit and the rich were benefiting from it. Simon was only half paying attention, maybe not even half, because from the corner of his eye he was observing Price. 

He was slumped low in the chair, his lips parted, his eyes misty. The scent rolling off of him was saccharin, deeply appealing, and Simon's fingers twitched against the warm ceramic of his mug. Price managed to finish his before his eyes slid closed, his breathing growing a little ragged as his fingers kneaded at the arms of his chair. “Captain?” Simon prompted, his mug landing softly on a coaster. 

“Yeah, I'm good…”

“D’ya need anythin’?”

Price swallowed, observing Simon from beneath low lashes. A grimace passed over his face, his thighs pushing together. “Gonna shower… there's scran in the fridge, help yasel’.” His accent thickened briefly as his mind struggled to find purchase, and Simon watched him head into the bedroom with a faint smile. He listened to Price move around his bedroom through the wall, and then the rush of water as he turned the shower on. 

How long did he wait? Did he coax? It was usually easier than this. Price led the way, tugging Simon's clothes off, praising him in that rough, no-nonsense way he had; stable, certain. This Price was different. He was distant, anxious, even. Simon waited until the stream of water was disrupted, sloshing against the glass and tiles, before he rolled to his feet.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, but he knew he needed to do something. Price was clearly struggling. Limping through the last few hours before his heat settled in and dreading every moment of it. Simon pulled his clothes off, folding them over the laundry basket near the bedroom door, before he walked into the bathroom. He found Price panting in the steam, his hands against the wall as the water streamed down his freckled back, head bowed low between his shoulders.

He wasn't quiet as he slid the glass shower door to the side and slipped into the cubicle, his palm sliding over Price's ribs to glide up his chest. Price startled with a snarl, twisting around to latch a hand around Simon's throat as the other snatched his wrist. “Easy,” Simon whispered, airways restricted as Price squeezed. “Lemme help. Not gonna hurt ya, John.”

Price's shoulders heaved, blue eyes bright and feverish. Simon leaned into the palm at his throat and realised Price’s arm gave. He was shaking. Simon slid a palm up the tiles and eased Price back against his forearm as he pushed further, closer, until his lips slotted to Price’s and his tongue swept into his mouth. Simon used his greater height and bulk to his advantage, enveloping Price in his arms and drawing him into the warmth of his body, hand sliding down his back to his arse to bring their hips together.

Price was skittish, he wanted the kiss but kept drawing back before licking forward again, like he was clinging onto the cliff edge by his fingernails. His hands scrambled over Simon's chest, pushing him, gripping him, uncertain how to respond to the alpha swamping him. Price wasn't small, not by any standard, but Simon had a little extra, enough to cradle him, make him feel safe. Where Price was athletic and lean in his height and strength, Simon was bulky. Lots for a hungry omega to sink his teeth into.

“Simon…” Price grunted, tensing up as Simon's mouth kissed down his throat to the slope of his neck where his gland sat beneath his skin. His nails bit into Simon's shoulders, lips peeling back in a low growl. “Don't… not… not ready, can't…”

“S’ok, I know,” Simon murmured. “Relax. Need ya t’ trust me. Not gonna hurt ya.”

“‘m… don't judge me, for…”

“Not gonna. None o’ this will make me think anythin’ less of you, sir. S’a gift.”

Price flinched. “S’a curse. I… I fuckin’ hate it.”

“I know,” Simon murmured, opening his mouth to suckle on Price’s neck as he caressed up and down his body. Every pass of his palms over flushed skin seemed to be easing the tension, gentling him into his heat. His touch only paused to grab the soap and shampoo, washing Price tenderly, encouraged by the way he arched and writhed beneath the smooth glide of skin on skin. Simon worshipped every scar, every mole, every dip and curve of muscle. Those ragged pants broke around soft whimpers and soon the steam was saturated with the scent of an aroused omega’s heat. 

When his fingers slipped over the full curve of Price’s arse to the crease of his thigh, Price’s foot shifted out, inviting Simon's caress between his legs. Simon gladly provided, fingertips stroking gently over slick folds, pressing a little firmer with each pass until he was teasing Price's hole, tight muscles fluttering at Simon's finger in eager anticipation. “Fuck… you're wet…”

“‘m.. in the shower..” Price rasped, sounding dazed, and Simon smiled against his neck. Tentative hands began to explore Simon’s body, following familiar paths around his full tits and down his stomach to the thick, hot length of his erection pressing into Price’s hips. Simon shifted his own until his shaft could slide between Price's thighs. Spread as they were, it was just a tease, the ridge of his crown drawing back and forth over Price's slit, glans catching across the swell of his own small cock and making him stutter. 

Simon moaned into Price’s neck, the scent, the heat, the feeling of Price's strong body yielding to him inch by inch, it was a heady mix that was teasing him higher into feverish excitement. But he couldn't knot Price here. The first one took a while to go down and he didn't fancy keeping six foot plus of omega pinned to cold tiles while they waited for the tie to end. 

Simon drew Price out of the water and wrapped him in the warm towel from the radiator. The bedroom was warm, the bed even warmer as Simon lowered Price into it, tugging the towel into the floor, and nudging his thighs apart as he leaned down for a kiss. Simon ground his cock through Price's folds, smearing slick and precum over flushed hot skin. Price arched, opening his hips and hitching his legs high up Simon's sides. 

Simon gathered one of Price’s hands and wound their fingers together, pressing them into the mattress above Price's head as he reached down to guide his cock. He held it steady as he thrust his tip into the tight clutch of Price's body, teasing back and forth. It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Simon, hnn, ahh… please…”

“Tell me ya wan’ this.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck… ahh, please…”

“Yer fuckin’ gorgeous, sir. Look at you.”

Simon kissed him, sucking his lips, his tongue, but drew back when he began to thrust in deeper. He wanted to watch Price’s face as he was taken for the first time. The way it relaxed in bewildered pleasure, blue eyes rolling; glistening, kiss-swollen lips parting as a low moan trembled from his chest. Simon bottomed out, his balls pressed to the underside of Price's arse, full and heavy in the heat. 

He had never wanted to knot and breed so much in his life. Not even in the chokehold of rut did the urge feel this strong. The scent of heat soaked his tongue, cloyed in his throat, and as Simon began to thrust deep into Price's body, the snug, warm grip of it sucking so eagerly on the thick girth of his prick, Price finally relaxed, his head tilting back as he panted and moaned. 

The sheets dampened beneath his arched back, Simon's hand slipping beneath him, encouraging the curve of his spine as Simon sat up on his knees, drawing Price up onto his lap to bounce him down onto his cock with his furred chest pressed up and open, letting Simon suck and kiss his full tits, his dusky nipples pebbled hard in arousal as tongue and teeth swept over them.

Price clenched a hand in Simon’s hair, the other dropping behind him to support his weight against the mattress so he had agency in the roll of his hips, meeting each of Simon’s thrusts over his sweet spot. Now that he didn't need both hands to support Price’s body, Simon snuck one between them, thumb rubbing the swell of Price’s leaking cock.  Price got loud, more than the stifled pants of their usual trysts. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–”

Price's thighs pushed wide as his orgasm curled through him, sinking down until every inch of Simon’s thick cock was inside him. Simon ground in, growling low in his chest as he felt Price pulse and throb around his cock, slick dripping down his balls and thighs. Price was completely lost in pleasure, fockin’ beautiful, flushed and euphoric. He didn't fight when Simon shifted him onto his front and raised his hips, mounting him while on his feet, two big hands pressing down on his waist. Price dropped his chest to the bed and spread his knees wide, cocking his hips so that Simon could thrust deep. It was a natural breeding position and Simon's arousal intensified, cock rock hard as his omega presented. 

Watching Price's back muscles flex, his arse cheeks ripple under the force of Simon's thrusts, hearing his blissed out noises as they were punched from his chest, soon teased Simon's knot out of him. It swelled just as Price's second orgasm tightened his hole, and Simon ground forward, circling his hips until it popped inside clenching muscle. 

Price cried out, his orgasm intensifying as his body pulsed, instinctually milking Simon for every drop as he came. It was intense; mind-fuckingly good. Simon scrunched his eyes closed and saw lights behind his lids, and he listened as Price’s gravelly voice broke and whimpered through the swells of pleasure rolling through him.

When the aftershocks calmed, Simon eased them onto their sides, wrapping Price in his arms as his knot stayed snug inside his body. He pressed kisses into his damp hair, teased sensitive skin, and whispered praise. They dozed like that, surfacing to exchange lazy kisses before drifting off again. When Simon's knot went down, he drew out gently, only to replace his cock with his fingers. Price's hole was sloppy, loose and relaxed, and Simon groaned low in his throat. “Gonna breed you, love. Gonna make you mine.”

Price chuffed softly in response, thighs flopping open so that Simon could caress him properly, pushing his leaking seed back inside. Simon didn't need asking twice.

They mated throughout the night into the early morning. Simon left the bed long enough to get some food and water, and helped Price with both as the haze of heat made his movements sluggish. After a few hours of sleep, Simon woke him with another knot, holding him back to chest as he slid into him from behind. Each knot was a thorough breeding, their hormones, their scents, their bodies mixing until Price was ready to be bonded. 

Simon was hilt deep when he finally sank his teeth into Price's gland. His omega draped over him, back to chest, strong body arched in submission. Simon cupped beneath a thigh, thrusting into him with a semi-inflated knot that was making his eyes roll in overwhelming bliss. He tilted his head away under the guidance of Simon's hand at his chin, and Simon finally claimed the object of his desire, knot swelling inside him and triggering an intense wave of pleasure that made Price's body seize up.

The wound stopped bleeding as Simon licked it. He remembered vaguely reading something about alpha's having a clotting agent in their saliva sparked by the process of mating. Price’s pained huffs faded into softer sighs, and Simon held him as his body adjusted to the sudden surge of hormones in his bloodstream. Simon slid his palm over Price’s belly and cupped beneath its slight swell. 

“I know ‘m not your first choice,” Simon whispered in the quiet, his throat hoarse. “But…”

“Simon,” Price murmured, soft, wistful. “You're it. Jus’... always thought ya deserved better ‘an me.”

Simon's heart clenched in his chest, his nose burying in Price's hair. “Ain't nothin’ better ‘an you.”

“Got… bad taste in clothing and men, that bloody bally…”

“Olrigh’ boonie hat,” Simon chuckled, rocking his hips up a little in revenge. Price groaned, his body bearing down around Simon’s knot in a sudden throb of pleasure. “Heard bonded mating is a whole new level, but this… fuck, the noises you make.”

Price huffed softly. “Gettin’ a big head, Riley…”

“Naw, reckon I'm on the money, maybe I need t’ remind you again.” Simon slid a hand down Price's body to stroke his cock, rolling his hips slowly to grind his knot over Price's sweet spot, the stretch just the right side of too much. Price gasped, his back arching, and Simon clamped an arm around his chest to keep him still, giving him no choice but to endure the heated pleasure curling through his hips.

They had another day and a half to secure their bond before they had to return to work, and in that time, Simon would make sure Price never had a reason to dread his heat again. 

[iznsfw]

Trouvaille

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

21,183 words

Categories | best friend!Eunbi, facefucking, cum swallowing, against the wall, anal

The most unrealistic thing about this, besides getting to fuck Eunbi, is that she has sex with glasses on.

“Two things. I need you to tell me two things before I kill you in front of everyone. And trust me, I’m very good with a gun.”

“Oh no,” you say grumpily, and a little more sarcastically, while you're gathering your things into the gray backpack you’ve used through its tatters. “How will I ever see the light of day again?”

Eunbi barely looks intimidating anyway in the toga that sags around her small body. The fabric’s a blackish-blue waterfall that drags on the ground. You’re surprised mud hasn’t done its wicked way with it. It began raining earlier, see, and now, except for the mud as evidence, it's as if it never happened. The heat has become too much.

Everything is too much.

“You won’t,” Eunbi says, tongue between her teeth, “but save yourself for once. Tell me what’s going on.”

Right above the garment, her long tresses fall over her shoulders. Earlier last year, she had it cut and everyone fell for her instantly. But you’ve always taken the speedy growth of her hair a victory for your side.

No victories right now though. It’s supposed to be a grand day—the scam that is college has finally run its course, and today you ought to celebrate and throw your cap in the air like everyone else. 

But you’re still completely, royally pissed off.

Turn your back. Clear answer, with other possible variations that basically say the same thing: I’m not telling you shit. Nope. Stop bugging me. Brat.

She follows, and she’s a shadow behind you who’s too pretty to be one. But you lengthen your steps. Hope she doesn’t pursue you, but she’s always done that. Since you were kids on the playground, she’s never let you deal with things on your own. It’s forever been Eunbi will help you, Eunbi will stay with you, Eunbi will talk for you. 

Why must that knowledge swirl a puzzling mix of emotions in you? She has not once left you alone, and yet here you are, forcing her to do so.

A pair of leather shoes and high platforms (which give way to the illusion that she’s barely shorter than you) pave through the cobblestone ground of the campus you’ll never dream of returning to. You say that yet you and Eunbi are the only other few graduates remaining on the premises. Why? It’s not like you have anything or anyone to be melancholic about.

She walks in the corner of your line of vision. Alright, maybe someone. 

You’ve tried to avoid eye contact but you turn to her anyway. She’s always been this easy on the eyes, even when you were high schoolers with wild hormones and sensitive young hearts. Sharp nose, intelligent brown eyes, and pretty smile—she could’ve been a real heartbreaker back then if she weren’t hanging out with you. She could’ve been everything, because this town is too simple, too small for a girl of her caliber. 

Turn your eyes away before she could notice. Broken out of your train of thought, you start to notice how your bag knocks your spine repeatedly. Painfully. With the way your notebooks from years and years ago are bumping around in there, you’d think you were carrying a luggage good enough to give you a week’s worth of supplies.

“Ugh.” Eunbi pinches her nose irritably, allows the sounds to continue for a good three seconds, then pulls the source off you. "Dumbass. Alright, now tell—”

“No. Become a nun. Live a good life. Go eat ice cream with Chaewon or something.”

“She likes mint chocolate, so no. I’m never eating that shit.”

“You’ll live.”

“Oh, I will”—she taps your bag, smiling evilly—”and I’ll take the bag with me.”

You sigh loudly. “Eunbi.” 

Oh no, don’t get it wrong: she’s always like this. It's not just today that she pushes your buttons, catty with her negotiations and even more so when you turn them down. She discreetly takes control with a sleight of hand, and you never see it coming. You wish luck to whoever smug kindergartner she’ll be an educator to in the future. She’ll quickly show him his place, just like she’s shown you yours.

“What?” she says with a derisive smirk. She pulls on the arms of the backpack to boost its weight up. “No tell, no bag.”

At this point—

“I don’t give a fuck, Eunbi,” you spit. "You have bigger things to worry about.” 

Pause. You briefly consider telling her how your grand day was shattered by your own self and thinking, but you don’t want to bother her. She's your best friend. You shouldn't be making her listen to your woes.

Close your mouth; you didn’t even realize it was hanging open for a while. 

You exhale through your nostrils. “Do yourself a favor and take care of something else.”

You walk away. That was supposed to be the end of the story. It's the hashtag at the end of an article, the death of the conversation. But wide strides can’t keep her from coercing an answer out of you. 

You know that because she’s suddenly pulled you by the wrist then so close to herself that even your cloaks can’t bar yourselves from each other. Her body presses below your chest. Her stern eyes hush you. You can quite literally feel her breathing.

“I think I can handle it,” she says, gaze steady and chin lifting, “much more if it’s you.”

Okay, so maybe you underestimated how intimidating she can get. 

She’s a small girl, lying her way into five foot three, but she’s surprisingly strong. You’re more than aware of that to avoid testing if her palm on your heart is sturdy. Her fierce glare, needling into your integrity, is something new. Frightening, too. Her jaw—(oh, and you can never give that perfectly cut line it’s incredibly lucky to possess a normal glance)—is tight with determination. 

For a moment, you think you know how to speak but just forgot to completely.

You get the hang of it after a few seconds when you crack a smile. “Can’t tell you anything if you got your hands on me, little raindrop.”

Eunbi squints her eyes, then folds her arms neatly. “A silver rain drop. And I’m not little, I’m one sixty flat.”

“Take that cap off and we’ll see.”

You’re not exactly a top student, but you’re smart enough to run away before she whacks you with her rolled diploma.

-

(It somehow lightens your mood, because if there’s anything you love more than your phone and street food, it’s Eunbi’s tiny, challenging self trying to one you up. Her light punches are like package peanuts trying to make a dent in you. And it’s just so adorable seeing her face turn dark as she aims for you, and fails.

Oh, and it’s all in good banter. It wouldn’t be a friendship if those jabs were spiteful. There are a lot of relationships out there, both platonic and not so, where insults are masked behind “jokes” and jokes behind insults—you’re glad that doesn’t count for you and her.

But even if we’re to say that Eunbi’s cornering you to the wall, suddenly having grown taller than you, and snarls, with a knife to your throat, “Say good night forever,” you’d kiss her and tell her: “I won’t let the bedbugs bite.”)

-

"Two, please. Thank you."

Slip the paper bills in the vendor's brown, rough hand and slap yours back on Eunbi's shoulder. You’re still surprised at the bareness you feel, then you remember she's since stuffed her toga in your backpack because of the heat. Now she’s wearing a sundress that flows around her like water. 

Look at her discreetly. You’re wondering how she managed to hide all… that. The fabric fits and compliments her figure too much to go unnoticed. You have to pretend to be curious about the boiling process of the eomuk again to avoid staring at her slim arms.

"I still don't get why you call me that," she says. She pulls the drooping strap of her dress back up her shoulder, and you swear you’re gonna lose it. 

Take deep breaths. You can do this. "Call you what?" 

"You know." She daintily taps away a bead of sweat from her forehead and looks up at you. "'Little raindrop.'"

You return her stare eye for an eye. You have to admit it was a feeble attempt. Whenever you look at her, you're overcome with the realization that she's just so beautiful. Her brows are naturally curved and shaded, and there’s just the tiniest dimple at the side of her mouth when she smiles hard. Who in the world just has a face like that? 

But you can't dwell on it. It's a dangerous premise, and you're a rightful coward.

"Ah." Your fingers tap comfortable rhythms on her skin. "Because… hm. Bi means rain, right? And you’re small, a.k.a little. So there you have it."

A crowd sifts through the streets and roads opposite your university, and occasionally daring motorists. Graduates fill the sidewalks to purchase street food. It's been this cramped since forever. You can't believe this is the last time you'd ever see this commotion: nameless faces that have matured through the years occupying every space, scentful smoke that wafts in the air, and, of course, the familiar sight of these stalls on wheels catering to young'uns like you short on cash.

Now that you think it over once more, perhaps you'll miss this place more than you thought you would.

"Well, would you say it, uh…” Eunbi taps her chin. “Hm, derogatively?"

"Oh, come on," you say, shaking your head emphatically, "I would never."

"Good, because I just lost your bag."

Your eyelids suddenly stop drooping. Realize only this second that you haven't felt torn fabric on the shoulder you’ve been caressing.

"Eunbi, what the—"

"Kidding, it's right here." Eunbi lifts it up in the air cheekily. "Gotcha."

"Oh, fuck off," you groan. Push her away, but not so much that she's out of arm's length. There are people whose intentions aren't so nice in this crowd. 

Eunbi's adorable, you have to admit. Every day that rises is April Fools Day for her. She loves pulling pranks on you and commits to the bit perfectly. It’s been like this since… forever. It’s like you were born knowing her. 

With all that fake innocence on her face when she tells you a white lie for her prank’s sake, she could be an actress. For a moment, you wonder what you'll do if she does become one, if she finds out that she's more than this place is worth. Would she leave you with no warning? Make a name for herself and never bother to reach out?

You gulp a little. That could happen even without the entertainer job. You've been friends with her for ages. One day, she'll grow tired of you and seek brighter horizons. Finer places. Better men.

"You alright there?" Eunbi asks. 

You envy her for a lot of things—her charm, her easy way of making new friends, those legs that she’s worked hard to tone. But right now, you’re jealous because she isn’t privy to all those things that run in your mind about wanting to do things to her. Stupid things like hold her hand, tell her something you shouldn’t, the works.

Jealousy won’t amount to anything, so you just nod. It's not like there's much to say that you won't be embarrassed of saying later.

"Well—"

Just in time, the kind vendor raises two eomuks from the bubbling broth. The delicious scent makes your mouth water.  "There you go," he says in his usual jolly way that always makes you laugh. "Congrats on the graduation!"

"Thanks!" Eunbi says, always the first to be grateful. She takes hers and the aforementioned dimple on her cheek shows itself again. Your chest squeezes.

"Don't forget me when you're rich." His jovial face almost looks sentimental. "One for the gentleman and one for his girlfriend."

Your smile fades into a nervous line. "She's not my girlfriend," you say carefully.

It's more embarrassing each time you have to say it. Are you too close with her? Probably; your arm is always around her and she's one of the few consistent friends you have. She's been by your side longer than anyone. People are gonna think something’s going on along the way.

The vendor nods mockingly, as if to say “yeah, sure,” and winks at Eunbi. She winks back, but fails to halfway—her left eye scrunches up.

"Don't listen to him," you tell her. You walk away from the crowd; it's suddenly begun to feel warmer than usual. "He likes to play around a lot. Even in first year he was like that.”

“Eh. It's not like he said anything bad.” She sinks her teeth into the skewered food and shrugs. 

"It's invasive."

"Invasive," she repeats thoughtfully, (chewing thoughtfully, too.) “Okay. But how?”

"Because… ‘cause…" Suddenly, you find there's no appropriate reason you could dream up to justify your uneasiness. "It's, you know, strange when people do that."

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

You find that you swallow on nothing rather than the delicious treat you’re holding.

The place becomes too much, with the heated smoke eventually making Eunbi hack a cough and the sweaty people surrounding you more than they should. So you squeeze between them with her and go on for a resolute walk down the road. Just a few blocks up ahead, you can see the sun setting. It reflects back and pours a hefty amount of light on your figures. Your shadows synchronize with your steps.

“You don’t?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her right. The possibility of her being so comfortable with you that she isn’t bothered to be called yours… it’s a lot to handle. She shouldn’t just place that on your shoulders and expect you not to buckle.

Try to keep your knees from folding at the idea as you walk down the familiar streets. The roads reside in a subdivision that's humbler than the others, hence the houses being small and more trees standing above you. But you don't mind—you need a break from the urban place anyway.

Your university stays a little near the border between them. That's why more street food stalls come up to view and a few thrift stores. Is this the last time you'll come here?

The last time you'll see her?

“No. Why would I? Alright, now that we’ve got things all nice and settled…” Eunbi takes your wrist. Tightly. She's not going anywhere, and neither are you. “Back to telling.”

“Telling you what?”

“You really wanna play dumb with me?” She presses the point of her skewer to your stomach, seizing you by the waist. “Get those words out. Now.”

"Hit me."

"Two things, right? So answer me." Eunbi's fingers wrap tighter around your flesh. "Why were you crying in the bathroom? What happened?"

Oh.

That.

You're quiet. You look only forward, not daring to meet Eunbi's eyes. If anything, the stick could dig into your guts and it would be infinitely better than having to admit you’re weak. You’ll have to tell her one day. You’ll have to admit that you’re not a better guy just because you’re the only one who has the balls to approach her—you’re just like the rest of them. Nothing special. Grades barely there. Average, probably not even so. Everything but nothing.

“I wasn’t crying,” you say. You can’t remember what happened anyway, but saying what you do leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

The eomuk stick drops to the ground with barely a click. “Are you lying?”

It’s rare that her voice gets solemn. It’s less rare that you rush behind words to cover yourself.

You fix the mortarboard on her head so that it doesn’t slip past her brows. The staff didn’t quite take her measurements properly, so you had to tip the cap backwards. Good enough. “Think you can figure that one out yourself, Eunbi.” 

You give her a look that tells her all that she needs to know. It’s not like you can explain properly with this state of mind. What else can you say? 

What else can she say?

Perhaps:

“Please.” 

Everything stops.

Eunbi takes your hand, which looks large in comparison to her pale one, and traces a finger along your knuckles. Look down at them—those are the days that’ll go by, the months that’ll lose themselves into the void of timeless time. It could never be the same if fate wills itself to change one of these days, and you wouldn’t even know it. Not even a warning. 

“It’s just me.” Her voice thins, and you figure out that she’s sort of like you, too: it’s not rare for her to hide behind words and wit. “I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. Please tell me what happened, okay? I hate seeing you get upset.”

You wish you could tell her that it’s the same on your end. Eunbi’s the girl you let climb in your lap after a thunderstorm provoked her, the girl you comforted after she had her heart broken by the man she was convinced was the one. Through it all, you tried to be strong for her, but there’s little foundation to build from. 

The side of your mouth twitches upward. “Do you now?” 

Eunbi’s shoulders descend as they release a tired little sigh. She nods, refusing to say anything until you take the lead.

“Well, if you want to hear the whole story,” you say as you ring an arm around her, “I was already having a pretty shit day to begin with.”

“Why?” She chews on her lip. Pink gets on her teeth.

“Didn’t feel like I deserved to graduate.”

See, there are a lot of justifications as to why you didn’t deserve to go on stage and receive your diploma. You aren’t worthy of this toga and hat when you’ve barely accomplished anything compared to the others. They’ve already scored internships and some even sealed some higher positions in well-off companies. You, on the other hand, haven’t got anything going on for you.

That rings true for as far back as first year. You cheated (rarely) but still barely passed. Studied but never got the answers right for the test. Kept a strong face but you’re still in pieces on the inside. Now that you’re graduating, you’re the same guy after all that time.

“I had a… very weird time in there trying to get myself together,” you say. “I did nothing to make mom proud. I just bullshit my way through college.” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Eunbi hums quietly. Is that her side pressed to your hip? You suck in a breath.

“I mean, sure, but look at how far they got. I’m still in square one.”

“Different speeds for different people,” she says wisely, looking down at her shoes that begin their steps at the heel. “You don’t have to beat yourself up for going at your own pace.”

You chuckle deprecatingly. “When I’m a dumbass, I should.”

“You’re not.”

“You literally admitted you had a hunch I was stupid when I thought your name was Geumbi.”

“No, no, that was a long time ago. I was like, fourteen. It wasn’t my fault. And neither was it yours.”

She steals a bite from your food. A withdrawal from her as she finishes her robbery and yet you bring her back. Do it by stopping, then wiping away the broth on her lower lip with your thumb. Where did that come from? 

Eunbi’s frozen. For a moment, she says nothing. She pauses, then looks up at you. Just a simple look from her makes you weak. There are galaxies in her eyes.

“Actually,” says Eunbi, hand floating to your wrist—her voice is soft, “you’ve got to stop thinking everything’s your fault.”

Where should your touch go when all it yearns for is hers?

It's easier said than done, too. Therapy fills your brokenness yet it drains out anyway. All those methods and you can't stick to one. Everything bad that happens is your fault. It's like you're connected to them all.

“I’ll try." Your words barely pass audibility. Should you be ashamed? "I don’t like this either.” 

Eunbi presses her lips to the back of your hand then goes on strolling like she didn’t just save you from another spiral. Haughtiness rides her tone. Yep, she knows she’s your anchor. “You can start by carrying your own bag instead of me doing—” She pauses. All the sass is gone; just pure fear. “Shit.”

Your forehead creases and you look around. Nothing out of the normal, just the birds of seldomness and trees that sway with the wind. “What?”

“Don’t be mad at me.” Eunbi bites her lip anxiously. “Promise me. Please.”

“What is it?”

She tells you.

-

“Eunbi lost your backpack?” 

For the hundredth time: “Yes.”

"Like actually?"

"Yep."

“With the notes and sketches you had? What the hell?”

“God, you don’t have to rub it in like that.” You navigate through the streets and try to catch onto anyone perhaps holding a familiar satchel. Nobody fits the description. “We didn’t notice until we were alone.”

You and Eunbi do the very thing characters in horror movies shouldn’t do: you split up. She returns to the food vendors to ask around. They’d cater better to a face like that. You’re left to do the hard work and follow random people to see if they’ve brought away a bag. You really should have reversed roles, but Eunbi’s gone now. You can’t call it off.

The crowds are starting to dissipate, but that doesn’t make your hunt for your bag easier. Whoever stole it must have thought it was his lucky day. That shit was thrifted off a store, but it could sell for thousands if refined just right. 

All those documents, lecture takeaways, pencils… 

It’s not like they matter anymore. You wouldn’t dream of going back to school, so they won’t have much use in the long run. But those things played a major part in your life, especially in college. Losing it feels like missing a piece of a puzzle you spent nights completing.

“That’s so damn irresponsible of her. Not like her, too. She's a fucking—”

“—adult. Like me. Yes. We’ve gone over this.”

You must look like a local pervert right now, peering at people’s lower sides in search of your treasure. You hope they don’t get you wrong. Women are already giving you dirty looks though. Shit, you’re going nowhere with this.

“You don’t have to defend her every time she does something,” mutters your friend Sakura from the other line. Her accent has lost its origins a long time ago. Now, it carries teasing scorn.

Where the fuck could your bag be? Turn your head to the right, then to the left. There you go, you’re a fucking bobblehead doll. Feel even more ridiculous. It’s all a little humiliating, exposing a vulnerability to people you don’t know. Hey, look at me! I can’t find something important! And I can’t ask you for help because that would mean I’m a shameless piece of shit with no dignity and I’m too childish to graduate and—

“I’m not defending her, Miyawaki,” you blurt out, a little louder than you’d like. More dirty and judgmental looks. Always the centerpiece, you, and for all the wrong reasons. “Go back to gaming, can you?”

“Ha. You’re the one who called me and said, ‘Oh no, I’m with Eunbi again and I’m so in love with her!’” Sakura lets out a smug little laugh. “Just ask her out, dumbass. That way you won’t have to play attorney all the time.”

“I’m not asking her out, dumbass. She's just a friend.”

“Ask her out or Hyewon will. Hyem’ll say shit like, ‘She can lose my bag anytime—“

“Hey.” Eunbi comes up empty-handed. Her words are heavier with each passing fragment. She doesn’t have to say them for you to know her search was fruitless, just like yours was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. I asked around, too.”

Your hopes are dashed. “Call you back,” you whisper into the phone.

“Tell me how the date goes!” 

With a small beep, Sakura is gone, (thankfully.) (And so is her song about you and your best friend sitting in a tree doing something so lewd you could only spell it out.) It’s just you and Eunbi, in the gentle end-of-September sunset. 

“Now, would you look at that.” Eunbi laughs sarcastically. Sweat usually drips from the side of the face, right? Not the front? She throws her hands up and places them back down her sides anyway. “I guess I did lose the bag after all.”

Something’s wrong. What is it?

You stare at her, not knowing what to say. It is kind of ironic in a biting-you-back-in-the-ass way that Eunbi’s kidding threat about losing your stuff actually came true. 

“You sure you didn’t see it anywhere?” you ask. You’re starting to lose determination. And for what? You did say you didn’t give a damn about it earlier. How easily your words come to you when you only think of yourself.

“W-well—” 

Yep, there's definitely something wrong. Kwon Eunbi doesn’t stutter. Unless she’s mocking Minju, who’s almost always nervous, or does aegyo as a punishment, she doesn’t trip over her words. “What?”

“Fuck it, I’m sorry, okay?” 

Tears come too easily even to the gutsy Eunbi. It’s always been her Achilles’ heel. She’s a great and friendly leader, but one nice word that hits her right where it needs it or a bad day has her reduced to sobs. She smiles through them, wiping the teardrops with the end of her wrist. 

“And don’t tell me it’s fine just because I’m crying,” she says. The frustration gets to her and soon her sobs attract attention. “It was, a-a shitty thing to do on my end. I know it’s not okay, but I’m sorry.”

She’s a tearful painter of emotions under a night littered with starry skies.

She doesn’t have to hold the brush for the two of you all the time.

Take the brush from her just like how you take her into your arms. Eunbi says not to absolve her of her sin, but you’re a god whose mercy merges with bias. You like her too much. There’s something that pulls at your chest whenever she breaks down. 

The tension partially leaves her stiff shoulders. She sniffles, and it’s an attack straight to your heart. It’s so rare that she becomes so weak. 

“Eunbi—”

She shakes her head before you could go on. “Don’t say it. Please. Let me make it up to you.”

“I’ll say it anyway. It’s fine. I can’t use the stuff in there anyway.” 

“I said no. Hmph.” Her tears blot the front of your shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would cry like this. Don't feel guilty, okay? Okay? I just don’t like giving you a hard time.”

“You never could.” You’d trade more than a backpack for Eunbi’s wellbeing.

Somehow, Eunbi cries more. Her hug circles your waist in almost a chokehold, and you realize that the Kwon Eunbi from years back—the one who made everyone call her Madison, the one who’s always glued to your side—is still here. She’s just older, a little braver, and prettier than you could ever imagine.

Emphasis on the last. Her lashes carry her tears in a biblically beautiful manner, like you ought to kneel and venerate her. The southward curl of her lips is so cute yet painful that you’d give anything to see them lift again.

“You don’t have to say I didn’t do anything wrong…” she tells you quietly. You could hear the guilt infecting her words, evident in the cracks of her voice.

“Well.” You touch your mouth on her hairline. “You have a way of making me say it.”

There’s no mourning for your bag. You suspect that there was none at all, perhaps just shock? Must be why you’re cradling her, like a child would to a doll at night, and letting her feel your touch. Maybe the way she’s closing herself into your embrace is platonic, because at the end of day, you’re still friends. But you don’t feel her breath on your skin for a while after you indirectly forgive her.

Eunbi lifts her face from the comfort of your front. Pouting, she then laughs a little. “What are you doing? You don’t have to be so sweet.”

“I could be sweeter,” you offer. She sighs loudly, tired of your mischief; you grin and pat the small of her back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The night has downed the temperature, and now the breeze whips her small form back and forth. It’s too cold for her to be walking with no sleeves or at least trousers. So you lift your toga up and slip it around her. It’s bigger than the one she had and lost with your bag. Her hands barely fight their way out of being hidden under the long blue sleeves.

Her eyes reduce to suspicious slits while a smile pastes itself on her lips. “You’re a flirt, you know that?”

You shrug casually. “Born and raised.”

“That’s not how you use it,” Eunbi says, wiping the last of her tears. 

"Might as well go on. I opened the can of worms, now I'll lie in it."

"Jesus."

"What? I made my bed more than I could, now I'll eat it."

“Wow, it’s like you never listened to professor June.”

Wasn’t it just afternoon a few minutes ago? The sky has become a blueish black landscape. The only sources that provide illumination to the streets and alleys are the streetlights and moon, plus the twelve especially bright stars etched into the map of constellations.

“Okay, miss Oh My Gadnis,” you fire back. She gives you a dirty look. You immediately take it back.

She throws her head back and lets darkness take over her vision for a while. Gulp. The light welcomes itself back and she lets out a prolonged, wistful breath. Tiny sobs glaze it. “It’s Minju’s fault. She was always shouting that in the dorm. Makes me kind of miss her.”

In the last years of university, Eunbi made friends with eleven girls. She was the leader of their friend group, the one who made plans and provided solutions. But as graduation crept closer and eventually caught up with them, she won’t be seeing them much again. 

“I can always drive you to your meet-ups. Didn’t get a driver’s license for nothing.” 

“You don’t have to. I already fucked up your day.”

“You didn’t. It’s just a bag, little raindrop.”

The chilly atmosphere tracks your nighttime conversation with your best friend. What do the songbirds, sleeping yet eavesdropping, think of you and her? Does the moon brighten to increase your shadows? It’s like they’re listening in. 

She looks down at the edges of her shoes as they mark their path to home. “What brand was it? I’ll buy you a new one. I-I’ll send the notes to you.”

“No can do. Just do this one thing.”

And now, the night quiets.

When time has chipped away at the lack of lines on your faces and brought forth hell, you’ll be there. Together. You won’t go back here anymore, but there will be prettier places for you and her. It’s what you pray for though you’re not all that spiritual, but you know it’s what you want.

“Let’s… be friends until we’re old and miserable,” you ask of her. Even admitting that you want to be with her makes you shy, and you’re anything than that when you’re around her. So why is this happening? Why are you doing this? “Spend more time together. Doesn’t have to be something grand.”

Eunbi blinks at you. There are undertones to your words, some kind of hidden message a veteran film critic could pick apart if your life were a movie. You’re asking her to be with you, yet there’s depths to it, almost like you’re telling her another thing. 

“Sure,” she whispers, nodding. She can do that.

Again, a lot of subtext. But that’s for another night. 

“Oh,” you add, “and be my backpack since you lost it anyway. Get up.”

Eunbi flinches, but she’s smiling the second you lower yourself for her. 

“Come on. You’re tired, little raindrop. I’ll take you home.”

She sighs. She climbs on your back anyway. You support her legs with your forearms and boost her up. You pay your gratitude to the dark for hiding your flushed cheeks at the feeling of your friend’s body pressed so tight to yours.

“Please don’t do silly shit,” she begs, placing her face next to your neck and fearing the worst.

She’s right to be frightened. Lowering yourself nearly to the ground in preparation, you yell: “Here comes the rollercoaster!”

“No, no, no—ahhhh!”

You zoom Eunbi in the night, feet picking up speed and racing through the road. Her arms are rounded around your neck. She shrieks in delight, and while along the way your legs start to ache, you’re just glad to hear that laugh again. 

-

Gently push the door to your house open with the help of Eunbi's keys, which come with a keychain of a knitted rabbit. Darkness greets you, spreading itself around the house like water.

“Why is it so dark?” whispers Eunbi, looking around and twisting her arms around your neck tighter. 

“You’re such a baby," you chuckle. "It's nighttime, of course it's gonna be dark."

Eunbi whines and squeezes her legs around you. The feel of her fluffy thighs in the curve of your palms—it's… something. You can't think like that about her when she's your best friend, but she's so close, so perfect on top of you that your mind runs with ideas.

"Alright, fine. Turn on the light."

"Where?"

"You’ve slept over so many times and you don't know where it is?"

"Doesn't count when I can't see, genius."

"Right here." Twist your head to the wall, where a light switch stays. "Just near the door."

Eunbi reaches out her hand, and you're cohorts with the dark when you secretly inch the fluff of your sleeve against her fingers. She screeches, suddenly struggling, calling your name and whoever Fuck is. 

This is the way of your prank backfiring on you: her limbs are surprisingly strong that her feather-light weight becomes too much. Your legs start to shiver. Your hands weren’t made to suffer this much wildness.

"Something touched me!" Eunbi screams, kicking you in the spine. You try to hold on to her but her legs don't behave. "A mouse, a mouse, a—"

You start to laugh. She's like a proactive rabbit trying to beat you up. "Calm down, it was just—"

"My hand, it touched my hand! Disgusting piece of shit, get it off—"

"Eunbi!" 

She both clings onto you and pushes you away, scared of what lurks in the dark. You can't take it anymore and drop miserably to the floor. The tiles knock your back out. Eunbi won’t let go of you; her screams never stop.

"Help! My hand—"

"What's going on here?"

The light flickers on, letting you see what's happening. You're in the living room that connects portallessly to the dining room. The ceiling generates dizzy circles above you. And then there's Sakura, an unexpected presence, standing near you.

"Whoa there," she remarks, smug like she’s a journalist who caught a forbidden celebrity couple. "There's a time and place for this, right?"

For a moment, you wonder what she's talking about. You sit up and realize Eunbi's squeezed herself on your lap, with your arms tangled into hers during the mess. 

Flush red. Sakura will never let you hear the end of this: you cradling Eunbi on the floor, with her looking so comfortable snuggled up to your touch. “Something couple something something perfect for each other,” that's what Sakura would say.

"It was just a prank," you mumble to the girl on your lap. Pat her head. Show her the fluffy fabric cuff of your sleeve. "See? There's no mouse."

"What the hell? You're such an asshole!" Eunbi's blade-sharp gaze, it cuts through you. You want to keep bleeding, It's unfair how pretty she is even when she's angry.

"Hey, I can do pranks, too." Turn to Sakura, because the next thing you're wondering is how she's here. "How did you get in, Miyawaki?"

"I drove," she says, like it explains everything. "Should we eat? Your dad left some food in the microwave." 

Eunbi turns shy at Sakura's knowing look as she rises. She pulls you up. The veins in her forearm flex. 

Sakura leaves anyway to fetch the food. You can smell spring rolls and freshly-cooked rice. Your stomach churns—running with Eunbi on your back has burned all that eomuk and left you hungry. 

You look at Eunbi questioningly. "Do you know why she's in my house?"

"No.” She returns your curious expression. “I was hoping you would tell me."

“Christ, what's she doing here?" 

"I'm here," butts in the Japanese girl, bringing forth a plate of crispy rolls and utensils, "because I personally want to help Eunbi unnie in making it up to you.”

She takes the liberty of scooping chunks of rice onto your plates. You dig your fork through one of the spring rolls, place it on Eunbi’s small plate, then get one for yourself. The wooden image of Jesus on watches you closely. You’re suddenly aware of every little sin you’ve made.

“Listen,” says Sakura, and you do just that.

So here’s Sakura’s brilliant idea, funded by her and her friends (somehow, Eunbi doesn’t get to contribute a cut): a trip for Christmas. 

It’s out in Seoul, where it’s snowing at that time of the year, where you’ll get to roam the city and buy whatever you want—all on the house. There’s ice skating to do and restaurants to try, each new and exciting. You’ve never been to Seoul before, but the way Sakura narrates the whole plan makes you look forward to it.

She talks about how her new job is paying her great, and how the fact that the other girlfriends Eunbi has are chipping in makes it an all-in-all win. It’s a friend’s duty, she says, to stick up for when one of them is down, and since Eunbi made a mistake, she’ll gladly take the blame. You’re surprised at how dedicated the girls are. You’ve never seen a bond so deep that they’d pay thousands just for compensation. And for just a thrifted old bag, too.

It’s inevitable that you agree. You have nothing to lose. This is a chance of a lifetime, and you’d love to have a vacation anyway. 

Sakura only has one stipulation:

You have to go with Eunbi.

-

Now it’s not that Eunbi is hard to be around, but she kinda is. It’s not in the usual way—she’s your best friend, not any other girl, and she’s not overly dependent that you have to act as her father or something. She can take care of herself, which can’t be said about a lot of people. 

But this is what sets you off: you’ll be the only one with her in Seoul. A guy and a girl sharing a hotel room. Would it be awkward? Of course. How do you tell her that you won’t look when she dresses up? What do you tell her if you find her bra in your sheets?

Still, she’s your best friend. It shouldn’t be awkward around friends, especially when you’re on the journey of spending more time together. That’s the whole point of the relationship: to be free and careless around someone. It’s supposed to be like that until you see how pretty she actually is, with the flow of her long hair and the crinkle of her eyes.

That’s where it gets difficult. Really, really difficult.

“Hey,” she says, and that’s what breaks your reverie. Looking up at her, however, has you drowned in another.

Black-framed glasses sit on her nose, curling at the ends behind her ears. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, some fringes flying free from the band. It’s such a deadly attack. Then there’s the graphic shirt that hugs her too tight and the denim shorts that cut too close to the starts of her thighs. 

You gulp. When you thought Eunbi couldn’t get prettier, she proves you wrong.

“You like it?” she asks. She twirls around. “I got glasses.”

“I see that,” you reply. Why is your chest immoveable? 

Eunbi grins. “I couldn’t say that until I went to EO.”

You force out a laugh. You look at your phone, scrolling through your feed in search of a little reprieve from how pretty she is. At this point, it’s a constant run around your mine: Kwon Eunbi is so pretty. And she’s not just pretty, too. That’s what makes her so beautiful: the duo of feistiness and painful attractiveness. Can you say that? No. But that doesn’t mean you can’t think it.

The first thing Eunbi does when she takes the seat opposite you is swipe a finger through your ice cream. Glare at her. She beams at you. Your reprimand dissolves. 

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Lucky guess,” she says. She decorates the sides of her face with her palms as she looks at you curiously. “What you thinking about?”

You. “I’m still not sure about the whole trip thing.” 

"Come on," she says, and that pout knows how to break away at your attempts to ever hold her accountable for anything. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

Weird is fitting for October anyway. Should have ordered that Halloween special instead of this. 

You were a solo customer in the ice cream parlor until Eunbi came out of nowhere. She always knows where to find you. Telepathy? Power of friendship? Power of something more than that? 

You don't want to think about it.

"It's Sakura," you say, testily, as you shove another spoonful of double dutch in your mouth. The sweetness can't melt your anxiety. "It's always weird when it's Sakura."

Eunbi considers this. "What about when it’s me?"

“What?”

“I said: is it weird when it’s me?”

She’s clever at finding ways to make you stutter. “No,” you tell her quickly, “it’s not you, I promise. Just… it’s only us.”

You and Eunbi, alone in a hotel room. A straight man and woman in the same place, with nobody else around. You have fantasies about how it ends, but you know it'll never happen. But the thing is: you're stupid. You're going to do something you shouldn't, like watch her as she pulls long stockings over her legs. Think about more details than the shadow of her body on the glass shower panels let on. Want your best friend when it's everything you should never do.

“Is that so bad?” Eunbi sighs and looks around, thinking. As she takes in the jolly retro style of the parlor and the waitresses, she continues, “I mean, if you want to, I can find another way to, like, make things good. I can tell Sakura to call it off—”

“No!” 

She looks at you surprisedly. Always, you speak before you think. To be fair, there’s a single thought behind your too-fast outburst: you can’t let this opportunity pass by. But rather than the grand city lights and expensive restaurants, you think about her. 

You cover your mouth. Shit. You have no worries about fucking up in front of her. The worst thing she’d do is make a reference to it in future conversations or joke about it. But right now you’ve just revealed your true intentions. 

You’re lucky Eunbi never takes things to heart.

“Okay, fine, geez.” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head at you. “You really need a vacation, huh?”

The only thing you need is silver rain, but you somehow always wield an umbrella.

-

“Do you like it?”

It’s what Eunbi says, on her knees before she sucks your tip. Groan you must because that tongue is too talented. It’s a skill you could only make faint guesses where it originated. For that, you don’t care anyway—not when she’s slipping and wrapping those perfect lips around your cock, the intent suction making you reel into her face. Almost knocks her specs away, and you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you? Her appeal just goes to an all-time high with them.

“Fuck, yes, Eunbi,” you say. “I love—”

“No. Now that I think about it, you don’t actually get to speak.” She teases your testicles and nurses on one, her hand attending to your stiff erection. “Not until I have my way with you.”

And she does. She switches back to your cock then, like an expert, she bobs her little head up and down, taking you in her throat like it was nothing. The chest of her tight shirt is stained with precum, and some of the foretelling liquid is in her hair. But when has she cared about that? Never, not in the time continuum of this room. She only likes to keep the propriety of servicing you, no matter how red her knees are or how sore her jaw gets.

Eunbi teases her tongue on the lower side of your cock then brings her lips up. You hiss. Her throat welcomes you again, and, with a hand on your thigh, she makes it work. She’s choking, and yet the clever little thing is so diligent with her work. Through choke and sob, those teary eyes looking up at you for validation, she continues. Spit dots your cock and so does lipstick. It’s smudged at the side of her chin.

She licks your cockhead repeatedly. It’s swollen, and she takes advantage of it by licking. And sucking. Then licking it again so rapidly you start to shake.

There’s a greedy glimmer in her tears. “Gonna cum?” she asks. “Please? I want you to.”

Fingers wrapping around your base, she goes down again. Her nose touches your pubic area. You can feel her hot breath tickling your flesh when she rises for a brief and subtle breath. Then it repeats: Kwon Eunbi is forcing her head up and down, lips wet with saliva and precum. The texture of her tight throat and the welcoming pleasure of her mouth brings you too close. Too damn close—

Fill her throat with white so much that she squeals in surprise. A little adorable giggle, then some more hardworking sucking to work your cum out of you. You want to tell her that you’ve become too sensitive, that she shouldn’t continue. But then you never want it to stop.

“Fuck! Eunbi, Eunbi, Eunbi—”

That’s what you say when she continues despite her breaths getting lost. 

“Good girl. Good pretty girl.”

That’s what you say, with your hand on her ponytail, tugging it so she gets access to the oxygen she willingly deprived herself of. Her mouth’s filled with your semen. She’s gasping. Her chin’s lifted to the sky but her eyes gaze only at you. Your approval isn’t what she needs to get by solely, but god, does it make her think so.

“I love you.”

That’s what she says.

But like everything else—this blowjob that made you fail November’s challenge, the sweet talk, her on her knees, her actually liking you—

It could only ever be in your imagination.

-

December couldn’t come any sooner. Packing was an eventful occasion. You bunched up a lot of underwear in your carry-on like you had a habit of pissing yourself. It was only when you got to the airport that you realized that in all the rage to get clean underwear, you didn’t bring socks.

The twenty-third was a day you both dreaded and yearned for. But then you’re in the airplane, traveling through clouds you used to stare up at, and Eunbi’s beside you. Isn’t she always? She falls asleep a couple of times in the airport, head on your shoulder, and you pat her knee to slumber her. Her Sanrio neck pillow is of no use when you’re a better one. 

Why can't you stop staring? She's been a tear in your heart for a long time, making it pulse and ache, but now she's gotten so much prettier, so much more friendly that it isn't really unexpected that you fall for her. Is that your confession to yourself? Perhaps. You could only ever say it to your own heart. 

Picture this, (and, matching that of the many other scenes you’ve dreamed of her in, it would only be real for a while): Eunbi's wearing that shirt from the day she first sported glasses. On your lap. Looking at you with an aura any man with a heterosexual drawing could read. Hands on the edges of her knees. 

She's leaning over, and she's saying—

"That little witch,” she spits, shoving her carry-on, “I can't believe we fly at seven and we had to be here at two a.m., I'm gonna kill Sakura!"

Close enough?

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" you remark. Pull her wheeled suitcase to the mouth of the plane.

Seoul is a paradise. You could see the greatness even from above. A couple of times you have Eunbi wake up to look, and she does. Her evident happiness shines brighter than the city lights.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs excitedly. Even her eyes that are heavy with sleep appreciate the view.

"So it is."

But you could think of other things that are prettier. Other people.

It's autumn, and the golden leaves are starting to fall. They crumple beneath your feet and release crackles that bring a strange sense of satisfaction. Step on another one. And another one. Somehow all your troubles are gone. 

Look at her. 

She’s reading from a book, paging through leaves containing yellowed words. She looks like a nerdy girlfriend with the new look, which you still haven’t gotten over. In any case, she’s so beautiful, and again, your heart is sore.

Eunbi’s deep into the story woven with Shakespearean words, but she catches your prolonged stare. Blinking, she lifts her head. Smiles. Cocks her head sweetly to the side and you swear she can’t look any better than this: long dark hair swaying ‘round her face and glasses making her more adorable. Says, “What ya lookin’ at, handsome?”

Yeah, all gone.

Eunbi loves playing around with nicknames, and she must think you’re vain enough for her to use that when she wants to rile you up. (She does.) You roll your eyes, and she laughs at her own ridiculousness and your attempt to be dismissive.

“Someone who’s prettier than ever,” you reply. Raise your chin. “You know her?”

“You really love me, huh?” 

“Never said it was you.”

“Oh, darling.” Eunbi licks her lip. “I know it’s me.”

Well, shit.

Eunbi’s the only girl you know who could respond to your teasing. The only person, for that matter. Even the men start to back away. She’s the sole person who can handle you, and you yourself could barely handle her. Good friends don’t suddenly lose their breath when she gets near. Good friends don’t think of ever, ever crossing that borderline between platonicness and romance.

So it’s safe to say you’ve been a bad friend all along.

“Since you’re, like, so obsessed with me…” Eunbi rises and hands you her phone. The phone case is red—of course. “Take a picture of me, please?”

She rises from the bench, and you wince inside at how good she looks. It should seriously be prohibited to look that attractive. You've tried to keep your head clear of her, but then she stands up in those teeny tiny safety shorts, fucking hugging her thighs and that supple backside. Why did she choose to go in that? Not even a skirt to go with it, or dress pants? You’re not one to nitpick at what others wear, but you feel something stirring inside you when she dresses more freely.

And red—it just looks so good on her, doesn't it? That simple tight sweater has you begging for forgiveness. You'd go to a priest, confess your sinful yearning, and you don't think that he'd forgive you after how you describe it.

"Will do," you say, chewing on your lip. "Get to posing. We don't have all day."

"Not to burst your bubble," she tells you, " but we do. But I'm a good girl, so I'll do as you say."

Swallow. Why the fuck is she like this?

"You sure as shit aren't, little rain—"

She bends over. 

The question repeats in your head. She bends over, (forward anyway), but if any shameless man were to walk behind her, they'd get an eyeful of her butt. You want to tell her she shouldn't do this, especially when her bottoms grip her thighs as a sole factor. But she's holding her bag in the edges of her fingers and angling her head to the side, and you know you’re over.

"—drop."

Eunbi smirks, haughty and proud. "Cat got your tongue back there?"

"Not even close. Give me a smize."

Proud of yourself for recovering quickly, you snap a photo of Eunbi. The look she gives the camera (you?): relaxed brows, slight pout, the black eyewear being the cherry on top—it's not easy baggage to carry for a man like you.

You put the phone down. Take a breather; you always have to when you're with her. Kwon Eunbi, national heart player. Kwon Eunbi, number one prank puller. Kwon Eunbi—

—your friend. Your best friend. 

"What's wrong?" All that confidence evaporates from her as she walks up to you, concern taking its place. 

She can be really scary sometimes. How could she be a flirt one second then a sweetheart the next? You're kept guessing, and you're guilty for liking girls like that. But as you study her, look at Kwon Eunbi—her hair and the band that sits atop it, her lips, her face—you kind of figure out that there's no other girl like her. 

And that scares you.

"Nothing," you lie. "You wanna go get coffee or something?"

"Actually," she states seriously, rising, "I do wanna go get coffee or something."

-

The twenty-fourth. The malls are crowded with people buying last minute presents, so you and Eunbi sat on the bench outside. It might be Seoul, but you’re not fighting your way through a crowd. While you stayed there and waited for time to feel wrong, a rich woman mistook you for a beggar, pitied you, and gave you a coin. As you stared at the bust on the metal, Eunbi laughed so hard you were not totally uncertain that she was going to throw up.

"We should leave," Eunbi says, "before someone tries to bring you to a damn church basement."

And the scene repeats itself again: you talk with Eunbi, like you've done a million times, as you go to your home for this night and the next. You talk about everything, because conversations come so easily when it's her. Whether it's about stupid people or school or what happened that day, the words flow naturally. 

Eunbi bites her lip, hands on her hips. "It's getting late."

"That a problem for you?" 

"No. Nope. It's just that… I can't believe it's going to be Christmas tomorrow." 

Christmas lost its spark back when you got into college. You've graduated and still you find no solace in the stockings and evergreen trees. School—oh, its deadlines, its pressure, its it-won't-matter-in-five-years-but-I'll-make-you-think-it-will papers—really ruined things for you. Forever. 

She drags her vision around everything: the sky of stars, the roads that are just a bit cleaner than the ones at your home, the claw machine arcade just across the sidewalk. She goes there, and you follow. Don’t you always?

"It’s Christmas and we're here," she continues. She manages a snortle. "Doesn't your dad feel lonely? I know mine does."

"He likes you, Eunbi. He doesn't mind."

You pull out a bill and slip it into the old exchanger. Sure enough, tokens spill from the gap. Count them in your palm. Divide it between the two of you. You and Eunbi always share, no matter how hard you try to make it seem annoying. You only ask for one drink and one straw. You split rice balls from that trip in grade eleven when your parents forgot to give you allowance for lunch, up until college when the two of you were too broke to eat anything else. What’s yours is Eunbi’s, and what’s Eunbi’s is yours.

"What first?" She studies the old arcade. It's filled with machines that are either anciently old or freshly new. No owner patrols the areas, but instead, a CCTV does so mounted perfectly on the corner of the walls. It watches your every move, reminding you to behave.

"Wanna get a Piglet?" 

“A what?”

“A Piglet. You know, the one who looks like an armadillo.”

“What the fuck is an armadillo?” Eunbi says the English name with spite, almost spitting it into the ground. 

“Forget it. I mean like the cartoon pig people say looks like you?”

"Oh. Nah. A good ol’ vibrating egg for me." She thrusts a thumb into the glass of an 18+ claw machine, where it tempts the player with boxed sex toys and hentai copies.

Heat flares at your cheeks. Now it’s not that you’re thinking of it, but it’s Eunbi’s dirty jokes that make you think of stuff you shouldn’t. Her on her bed, legs spread wide open as the toy pulses on her clit, her throwing her head back and crying…

"Spend my money wisely, please?" you croak out. Slip a token into one machine and start to crank at the lever. 

"I'll be good." 

Your hand curls tighter around the ball of the lever. You hate how you picture double meanings with everything she says. She doesn't deserve that. And you don't either.

Eunbi prances over to the Piglet machine anyway. You want to snicker at her antics, but it gets broken when you see her bend down. The jeans could only hug her backside so much. Her shirt lifts and you could see her tummy—that flat, soft midriff that you’ve wrapped your hands around when you guide her back on the occasion she runs too fast. Or when she needs to move away. She doesn’t mind; she touches you more freely anyway. But you wonder if she’d let you come up behind her and place your hands all over it, not as friends but as something more.

Because for a friend, she sure does take up a lot of your mind.

Put your focus on this keychain. Yes, this one. This keychain is cute. Would be nice to bring something home to your father. You guide the claw to the nearest one and slam the button. To your surprise, the metal actually hinges around the keychain. You could feel your soul lift up to your throat.  It just needs to make it all the way to the hole—

“Shit!” you curse as the claw lets go. That can’t be fair, right? It was doing so well, then it just spread open again. What a waste of time and money.

“Loser,” giggles Eunbi. She shows off a Piglet stuffie, pink and simpering. 

“Wow, really needed to hear that. Thanks, Eunbi.”

She lifts her shoulders. “Hey, for what it’s worth: I just got lucky.”

Tokens become nothing to you. You try again and again for a prize to make it your money’s worth, only to end up with nothing. Eunbi scores a candy from the kids’ section, and you could see her consider trying out the 18+ ones. The appeal of the Playboy magazines and the Japanese girls looking back lewdly at her with barely no underwear on is beguiling.

“Do you think I should try to get a dildo or something?” Eunbi asks, running her knuckles along the markered glass. 

“You don’t even know if it’s clean.” You’re leaning against the outside exchanger, staring into nothingness. But you always manage a little response for Eunbi, as absurd as her questions are and as wild your thoughts are about her. “You might get an STD or some shit.”

Her face squeezes up in disgust. “Ew, right. Forget it.” 

You feel her warm body press into your side later. You’re still surprised even though the girl never leaves you alone. Then her head is on your shoulder, just like in the airport, and your heart surges. How do you deal with her? Pet her arm, and somehow she finds a way to sink deeper in your touch. She looks up at you and offers you a kind smile.

“I got you the keychain,” she says. She drops the Seoul keychain on the hand she forced you to open and looks away modestly. “Saw you sweating over it.”

“Thanks.” You look down at it on your palm and feel warm inside. She really is so sweet. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Eunbi replies quietly. “It’s the least I could do.”

She purses her lips tightly and exhales through her nostrils. Guilt floats in her face like a dark shadow. 

“If it’s about the bag, I already told you it’s okay. I mean, it’s just a bag.”

“So? It means a lot to you.”

Your thoughts race with your words and win, forcing them out. “You do, too.” 

Is she blushing? No. No, can’t be. But she’s stroking your palm with the keychain on it, a little tilt at the edge of her lips. That’s kind of close to that. Friends do this, right? 

Her touch feels both foreign and familiar. You want to reel back and apologize for something you didn’t do, but then you want to hold her. Make her happy. Is that alright?

“Speaking of which,” she says pensively, staring into nothingness like you are, “what do you think happened to it?”

“The bag? I dunno.” Bring back her attention—eyes on me—by actually holding her hand. Sometimes you could be so brave. Toy with it, swinging your joined hands in the air then pressing them to your chest. You laugh at the suspicion clear on her face. “Probably in some lost-and-found counter. Or someone actually stole it and was like, ‘yep, hit the jackpot.’”

“Like trouvaille,” she says.

“What?”

“Trouvaille,” Eunbi repeats. She breaks her gaze from the space on the road and looks down at her sneakers. “A lucky find.”

A lucky find.

Staring at her is your pastime at this point. Your focus glazes over her once more, and you drink her all up. Two locks of her hair are pulled and tied at the back, making her look absolutely gorgeous. You’re lost in her eyes, like they’re an ocean and you’re on a raft floating on its waves. And of course, those glasses—you’re convinced they were made to make you want to do sinful things to her.

But the urge to sweep her in your arms takes over, and it outweighs your lust. Or are they equal? She looks so beautiful, yet so handsome. So pure and sweet, yet such a bombshell.

“Forgive me, but I must reiterate.” She tilts her head with a silly little grin. “What ya looking at?”

You’ve figured it all out. You wonder why you were ever worried.

"Well," you lead a runaway lock of dark hair back behind her earlobe, "guess I’m just lucky to have found you. Even if you're a nuisance."

Her eyes crease up into half-moons. "And I'm lucky to have met you."

"Even… ?"

"Nothing after. Just that: I'm lucky to have met you."

You never meant to actually do it. But it’s become too silent, like the world is leaving the cards on your table to play. And there’s her certain hold on your fingers, like she wants you to do it. There’s the birds tweeting as they gather into the trees for the night, waiting for the show of a lifetime. The stars, too, are bright tonight.

So who could blame you for nailing her to the claw machine and finally, finally kissing her? Her lips are as soft as they look, and you’re melting in them. You’re still holding her hand, keeping it pinned up to her side. Your tongues come out to play and it’s so much better than you imagined, so much better than your stupid little fantasies. Your eyelids shut, too, because this is an experience you never want to end.

That collarbone will be the end of you. It peeks from the neckline of her shirt, and you suddenly have all the courage to seal your lips on it. If only you could have mustered the same courage back in college to socialize, but you’re glad you saved it all up for this moment. Eunbi’s moan is sharp, and it almost makes you falter, almost makes you stop. Nope, can’t do that. When she’s letting out all these other little sounds as you have your way with her, there’s no way you’d let up.

“Hmmm…” Eunbi twists her head to the side and cries out. It unintentionally grants you access to her flawless neck. You leave some flaws: purple bruises she whines at, harsh open-mouthed kisses that trail saliva all over that pale skin. “I need to tell you something.”

You brush your mouth behind her ear. You can smell her faint perfume. “And that is?”

“I lied about wanting to get a drink.” She scoffs at her desperation, then sighs. She gives in either way. “I fucking hate coffee. Hate it. Hate it like a mother hates her firstborn. Or something. Just hate it, hate it, hate it.”

You shake your head. What an unfitting time to say that. Cradle her anyway. “Then why did you get some with me?” you ask.

“I-I don’t know. Guess I just wanted to be with you.”

Wait, so what about all those times you invited her for a study session at the cafe? She had always ordered a latte. Has she been hiding that silly secret each second, just for a chance to hang out with you? To have your company?

You didn’t know coffee would flatter you this much.

You pause. Does she like you? As much as you like her? You don’t know. You’re momentarily flustered. Step back and scratch the back of your neck, similar to a boy having been caught doing something wrong. Kissing your best friend is something wrong. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. A friendship between two heterosexual people of the opposite gender could stray to lengths that are both painful as they are excruciating if someone dared to touch the other. So, if you kissed Eunbi, who could predict the consequences? Chances are you’ve ruined your friendship forever.

Then she grabs your waist and pulls you close. Kisses your chin ‘cause that’s all she can reach and she can barely reach it at all. But it sends shivers down your knees.

“Come on,” she whispers breathily. “Don’t be shy. Touch me.”

Foolish to stop and think. Your immediate yet hesitant reaction is to give her jawline one final kiss and slip your hands under her shirt. 

“Oh!” 

Alright, you’re a lot more confident now. You pull the cups of her bra down and start to squeeze. It’s no secret that she’s got a blessed bust, and now you get to feel it. Her nipples are hard in your palms and the flesh in your hold is just so soft. You could never get enough.

Eunbi laughs. Sort of; it’s kind of a moan, too. She lifts her chin to the sky as you knead and knead and knead. “H-how long… have you been waiting to do that?”

It’s an achievement making her stutter. More stammering breaths leave her lips when you thumb her nipples. Press, thumb, pinch, repeat. It’s how you find out she’s just so damn sensitive, and of course you’re abusing that fact.

“You don’t want to know,” you reply, brushing your lips over hers. 

She gasps. “Again.”

“Huh?”

Eunbi kisses you. “Kiss me. Like this. Again.”

Is anyone aware, by the way, that you are completely incapable of refusing her?

You kiss her, like she asked. She sighs happily, her tongue suddenly coming out to play. More sensations of softness are at hand, and now you’re battling for the upper hand with your tongue responding to her gestures. 

Two can play this game. You slip your tongue through her lips and she sucks it, almost like she’s aware of who’d be controlling who. You force her up to the claw machine glass (plastic? It’s pretty sturdy) so hard that your kissing isn’t gentle by any means. It’s leaving her breathless.

“You’re… you’re good,” she hums, when you finally reward her with a break. “I wanted to be the first girl you did that to.”

The revelation definitely isn’t linked to how hard you’re nibbling on her jawline. Her shuddering breaths are everything.

“Actually,” adds Eunbi, “I wanted to be the first everything for you. First kiss, first love, first time. But you just had to date Hyewon, huh?”

“Jealous?”

“Nope. Never. Just, oh, don’t stop–” Eunbi winces, ribbons her fingers through your own more. “Oh…” 

Your tongue swirls on her neck. Meanwhile, your hands are busier. You squeeze Eunbi’s fantastic breasts so that her leg pulls you close. Your obvious erection pushes against her center. Her hips start to move, bringing herself closer to your rod and getting off on the feeling. Her little whines increase.

Then you remember something.

“Have to.” You retrieve your fingers from under her shirt. Regretfully. Fix her bra back on her.

She’s near tears. “No…” 

“There’s a CCTV, little raindrop. You wanna get arrested?”

You’re out of breath. You pull the ends of her shirt down to hide evidence of the crime, though there’s the camera witness to it, and try to lead her outside. She refuses to budge. Her glare is clear.

“If that means you get to fuck me till I’m begging and drooling,” she says solidly, “then take me to court.”

-

You take her home instead.

She looks frail waiting at the glass doors as you purchase some contraceptives from the convenience store, almost whining when you take too long. How the fuck do they have lube, too? You buy that and all the contraceptives they have, because if you want to have Eunbi, you gotta do it fast and safe.

She manages to wait on the elevator, hand wrapped tightly around your palm. Then, when you get to the room, she pushes you down the bed as if she were actually taller and stronger. She truly is an actress—wasn’t she just squirming impatiently not less than five minutes ago? Directors would look at her for sure, a face to remember among plain ones, and say, “Oh, this is our trouvaille. This is what’ll make us billions.” 

But now, she’s all yours. Your little trouvaille.

There’s pride in that.

“Fuck. Can’t wait to have someone like you.” She kisses you. Again. Another one to your chest. She’s a little greedy with the way she devours you. But you’ll spoil her as much as she wants; curve your body up so her cushiony lips could have more. Your back is buried into the white sheets. “Someone who is you.”

Grasp the small of her neck—her kisses are surprisingly passionate. "Wait,” you say, “you're not a virgin?" 

It doesn’t bother you; just surprises you. Eunbi’s had a fair amount of suitors and boyfriends, and plenty looked too frail to even hold her hand. 

"Virgin? Hell no," she replies, like it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever heard. The center of her jeans grinds against the mountain in yours. She bites her lip. "Mmm. You think with all this hotness a dude would go, 'Oh, I only want to take care of her'?"

"I do want to take care of you," you murmur, caressing her waist.

"Oh?" A grin stretches on her face. Her teeth still trap her lower lip, and it makes your stomach tighten. Your jeans, too. "Tell me more."

“For one,” you sit up and play with the belt loops on her pants, “I’d like to help you out of your clothes.”

“Typical,” she mutters amusedly. “But I’m not complaining.”

Eunbi continues grinding for long seconds that already feel like a taste of heaven, then rises. Her legs are jelly. You can’t imagine how wet she must be, and to think you’d finally see exactly how. She undoes your zipper, and you in turn pull down hers. Your pants are a whirlpool on the floor. It’s only when you roll on the condom and help her out of the shirt that you realize what she’s wearing:

Calvin Klein, from bust to bottom. Her navel sits above the band of the underwear. Her midriff looks even more perfect bare. Flatness travels through its front until it swells largely at her breasts, which look heavy behind the gray bra. Her hair falls messily over her shoulders, a sea of wildness, and her smile is dorkier with those glasses.

“Fuck.” Your Adam’s apple bobs. “Eunbi...” 

“Will you?” she challenges.

You stand up and grab her ass to usher her closer, then kiss her. She smirks; she expected that to happen. Of course, the little devil, always getting her way. But you can’t help but give and give and give; you turn your positions around, push her gently so that she lands on the bed, and continue to kiss her.

Silky legs curl around you. Behind the fabric, you could already feel how wet she is. Drive your hips up because the friction is too good. The wet spot of arousal on her underwear prods your clothed erection. 

Eunbi screams loudly. Chastise her with a squeeze on her butt cheek. She yelps, and your lips land on her again. “Easy there.”

“I hate you,” she groans, slapping your arm impatiently. She whines when you poke her cheek. “Give it to me.”

“Give it to me what?”

Eunbi huffs. “You want me to call you daddy on the first day? Really? I mean, that’s fine, I can do that. But can’t we dial it back?”

“You watch so much porn that you forget basic politeness.”

“Wow, hypocrite. Fuck you—”

“Baby.” 

That shuts her up. Your thumb caressing teasing rhythms on her face plays a big role, too. Her ears are pink at the ends and she genuinely looks shocked. No, not shocked. Can’t be just that anyway. But that tiny pout pulling south at the ends and the tiniest of pants escaping it tell you what you have to know. You and Eunbi can communicate with just a look, and this one she gives writes to you a message of want. 

“You alright? It’s okay, Eunbi. Baby.” Proud to have ruined all her feistiness, you tip her chin up. “I want you to say it.”

Wait, patiently. It’ll take time and you’re not one to rush. When she starts to talk again, her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Please.” She nods and nods, like she was doing it just in case you started to doubt. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” you tell her. You’ve always wanted to. You can tell it’s the same for her.

You ease her out of her underwear and find her pussy prettily shaven, glistening wet. Light stickiness lines the insides of her thighs. Her lips down here are just as beautiful up there. You glide your fingers up and down between them, a choreography you’ll never get tired of performing again. Your touch is light yet you manage to put your hand on and in all the right places.

Oh, well, barely in. But that’s the fun of it; teasing Eunbi is a newfound hobby. In little time, it’s become your most favorite. Your touch is so light that when you edge the tips of your fingers inside, it’s already a lot to take. She lets out a humbled little growl, shoulders straightening. Mouth slacking. Thighs shuddering.

“No, no, why does it feel so—” Her voice breaks. Her face squeezes up and she’s crying out in strained, tiny sounds. 

Your digits gently curl on the entrance of her pussy, touching her sore clit and making it throb with the stimulation. Eunbi’s lost count of the times she’s done the exact same thing to herself: lying in her bed screaming out silently with only her hand to turn to. And now she’s here, with you doing it for her. 

Slip one finger inside, and even with that she’s already so tight. You start to pump her, each driving her nearer and nearer to the headboard. She’s whining, like no, no, oh, please don’t stop. You add another to hear it more.

“You prick,” she squeals out, palm to her mouth. “If you stop, I’m gonna kill you. I swear, I swear, don’t play around with me.”

“You’re in no place to be making threats, Eunbi.” 

This is her punishment: a speed her little pussy can’t take. She’s so tight that you’re already struggling. Trust that she is, too. She’s thrashing around on the bed, disheveling the sheets the staff oh-so-carefully fitted back. Hold her down so she gets to feel the force of your pace. 

How did she manage to peek in your mind, collect all your fantasies about her, and act them out? She’s there, in her Calvin Klein underwear, shaking at your fingerfucking and flashing you the most needy looks from behind those glasses. That’s gotta come from somewhere. Watch the float of her tummy when you jam your fingers harder; the quiver in her arms when you part her legs more. Now you’re certain.

Because see, it’s how it’s all so frightening: Eunbi’s Eunbi, your best friend and someone you’ve fallen in love with, and it’s the fact that you shouldn’t be crossing the line. You shouldn’t be fingering her with a madness of thousands when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be touching and leading her on when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be—

But oh, you are. 

You’re doing it with the courage of someone who knows damn well what they’re doing is wrong, and with no regrets. 

“In me.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, veiled under a breathy tone. “Now.”

You pull your fingers out of her and lick them. You don’t know if she’s tangy or sweet or bitter, but you do know she’s fucking delicious. “Whatever you say,” is your reply, because you’re always spoiling her.

Eunbi separates her thighs from one another. Your protected cockhead bumps against her clit when you approach. She flinches, but scurries herself near. She can’t stop staring at you, your cock, your stomach. Everywhere. It makes you possess a kind of narcissistic theory that perhaps she’s just as obsessed with you as you are with her.

You’ve never hoped this hard for a conspiracy to become true.

"Please." Eunbi's breath shortens, and she closes her eyes. She’s suddenly quiet, letting go of her harsh neediness. "Please rub your cock on me. On my clit. Without the condom."

Look at her throbbing nub and catch your breath. Barely. You run your fingers below the sensitive pearl. Then, on it. Under it, too, with little weight in order for the heat to circle around. "I don't know if we should, little raindrop."

"You can put it back on after, i-if you want." Her begging is borderline desperate. No wonder she isn’t sassing you. "I’m on the pill. Should have told you, I’m sorry. But I just want to know what it feels like. Please?"

“Are you sure?” 

She nods. Not that you need it to know what she wants.

You unroll the condom. Her mouth waters, even more when you do as she says. She’s right to be curious—it feels so fucking good that you’re afraid you have to put it on before you cum all over her. She whimpers quietly, the heat gathering in her clit and her legs suddenly tensing.

“Gah—” Eunbi sobs and catches the side of her fist in her mouth. “Oh god, please.”

“Seriously, you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Shut up,” she gasps. “Just put it in me.”

Sure you will, but you can’t resist flicking your cock between her lips. Your tip teases her entrance and slaps her clit. Eunbi lets out a lengthy groan. It transforms into a girlish cry, and you kiss it all away. What you don’t know is the moment you push yourself inside, no amount of petting would get her to quiet down.

So you do.

“You are so—” Eunbi’s legs stretch out. They require an anchor, and you’re glad to act as one. You place your hands firmly on her thighs and start to push yourself inside the delicious tightness. Every time you try to push past the limits, her pussy only closes more around you. She’s all wet and aroused yet she remains so goddamned tight.

She’s slippery but firm in holding your cock inside that warm, wet hole. She has to stop tensing her stomach so that she won’t deprive you of her. It’s hard to push, but one powerful thrust drives you all the way in, making it worth it after everything. She spreads her thighs more which gives you the chance to feel them, and you’re right for grabbing the opportunity. Grabbing her thighs, to be specific.

Each thrust helps spread her out. You’re pushing her apart and forcing her limits to be taken down. Her pussy sleeves your shaft so well, so tight yet so perfect. You slam harder. Take in the beautiful imagery of Eunbi’s small cunt taking more than it could. Its hold is so enclosed that you’re required to guide her legs up to welcome your dick deeper.

“I’m seriously so angry at you,” she hisses out. She bears every drill with a pleasured face and a fist that chokes the sheets to material death. “How did you not dick me down… all those years ago, huh? What a fucking tease, fuck—”

Make up for it by choosing a rocky pace. She won’t relax, and it’s straining you. You’re so deep inside her yet you can tell there’s more to excavate—her tensed body just won’t let up. It’s like every time you roll your hips, her velvety walls close more around you.

“Well, I didn’t know you were so tight,” you say, kissing her collarbone. Tiny nibbles here and there before you give it a lick. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Oh, you’re sorry? Then fuck me harder.”

You’re terrible at apologies, but you’re sure she’ll forgive you this time. Your core releases a mighty strength in shoving between her open legs. Even that sexy Calvin Klein bra can’t stop her godly tits from bouncing. Her glasses are lopsided while her vision goes loopy behind them.

Her cheeks inflate in labor as her lower body rises to greet you. She’s so adorable; it pinches your heart and leads your mouth down so you can kiss her shoulder and clavicle. See, you’re a good multitasker after all; you can destroy the heat in her center while worshiping her body. It’s good practice. Question is: would there be more times to exercise it?

“That’s it, yes,” Eunbi breathes out. Her hums of affirmation stutter even without her lips opening. “You know what I’ve always imagined? It’s this, it’s always this. When I’m supposed to be studying, I just think of how good you’d pound me. How you’d make me scream. Do what you want to me, okay? Hnnn, so big.”

Plenty of similarities between you and your best friend: your quickness to speak before taking the time to contemplate it, the clothes you accidentally mix and match, your ages. But what you didn’t know is when you sit down at your laptop plagued by thoughts of her, she’s somewhere in her own place being overwhelmed by ones of you. The heat somehow multiplies. Fills the room like a verse.

Therefore, you must hold her in place, give her a false reassurance that you’re going to take her slow. Do so, but then your thrusts become unmeasured and rapid. One hand on the side of that flawless waist, you lead the other to her bra. Harshly pull it down and let her boobs spill out of it. You start to squeeze them hard. Her chest is so bountiful that even the width of your hand can’t map it fully. So you squeeze, forcing it to fit in your fingers, and start to pinch. Her nipple is sore with arousal.

“Oh—oh—oh, shit.” She’s sobbing. But unlike the other times you’ve seen her cry, this one is out of pure bliss. “Just like that. Such a good dick, such a good boy, thank you.”

Your ears heat up. “You’re a pretty good girl, too, Eunbi.” 

“You’re terrible at this.”

She mewls helplessly when you suddenly ramp up the pace. You’re doing her like you’re determined to make her pregnant. It’s the last thing you want to happen, but the grinds make it look otherwise. Along the expedition of your cock, it rubs her needy cunt and makes her drench your cock with more wetness. Enjoy the tightness, enjoy the squeeze of her hole. She’s so warm and wet that you don’t think you could live having only done this once with her. There’s gotta be more, right?

“What about now?” you ask, unable to resist smirking at how she’s now completely broken apart. Then, mirror her words from some days back that drove and still drive you crazy, as ridiculous as they are: “Cat got your tongue back there?”

She chokes up and is rendered even more lost for breath when you start to lose control of your own moans. They harmonize in an erotic chorus with hers and soon you’re muffling them with another torrid liplock.

“You’re a bully,” she says, the words mashing with your teeth and lips. “A heartbreaking, flirty, mean bully.”

Your noses nuzzle against each other. “You like me that way.”

“I’m not commenting… on, t-that.”

“Good. Because you know what you need to do? Cum for me. You’re shaking, Eunbi. Bet you wanna cry and get there so bad.”

“Y-yes!” Eunbi curses with that adorable lisp. She starts to stammer at the thumb floating and frisking on her clit, and she gives you this watery-eyed needy look that tells you, along with her stiff nubs and desperate gasping, she’s close.

You start to swipe at her clit and fit yourself lower in her. Eunbi gasps. She sits up though her forearms barely could handle the weight of what you’re doing, and stares down at your handiwork. She feels hot all over. You’re not helping calm her down. But you are aiding her orgasm, (which, by the way, is so near she can taste it.)

“What are you doing, you’re making me lose it—gonna—”

No need for her to continue for you to understand when she’s creaming all over you. Your rapid rubs on her clit don’t cease and neither do your thrusts. Eunbi’s yelling so hard that you’re afraid that even the well-built four walls of your hotel room won’t contain her noises. However, at the same time, you want them to hear her. That girl you always have your arm around on? Yep, she’s yours. That girl who always steals your socks and shirts? Just the same.

Eunbi’s mouth pinches up before sighing loudly, followed by a series of other gaspy breaths. You could hear a venerating one the moment the tightness becomes too much for you to handle and thus milks you of cum. You fill her so much that it drips off her lips. Your gentle thrusts guide the mixture of her cum and yours back inside her.

“That good enough for you?” you ask, pulling out.

Gently close her mouth and wipe the saliva that dribbles down it. When you lead it back to her mouth, she sucks on your aiding thumb. You take the liberty of running your finger along the soft pillows of her lips.

Add: “You’re incredibly demanding when you’re being fucked.”

Anyone could have guessed that it would be that way if they saw how she’s sitting there giving you teary puppy eyes.

“Of course. You know why?” She gives you a tired yet satisfied look, a triumphant one, too. “I know you would give me more if I asked.”

Fix her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. “You give yourself too much credit.”

“Okay. Fine.” 

Eunbi stands up. She steals your attention from her heaving, heavy breasts when she gets on her knees. She squirms her thighs together, letting your creampie leave visible evidence. She massages your thighs, and it makes you even more turned on. 

“Tell me,” she says, another challenge, “that you won’t give me your cum. Tell me I’m such a bad girl that I don’t deserve all of it on my face. Hell, tell me you won’t even dare give me a nice, hot load down my throat as a reward for taking you well.”

You’re speechless. How do you react to this? She’s on her knees, riling you up and about to get to sucking you off. It’s another dream come true. And you hate how she’s right to death. She always is.

“Tell me all of that,” she concludes, “and I’d know you’re a fucking liar.”

Your tongue can’t form a fragment. Not even a stutter is born in your throat. Eunbi stares up at you, her hands neatly folded on her lap. She’s waiting, and you want to tell her it’s fruitless. You can’t tell her anything because it would prove her point. Plus, she’s gorgeous, so what now?

She clicks her tongue. Hums out a contained, satisfied laugh. “Thought so.”

Here’s how it starts: she licks at your tip repeatedly, keeping in mind how sensitive it is after having just cum inside her. Sparks of heat knot there. Then she leads it between her lips, and you’re on your toes again. She just slides those full, pink lips over you so perfectly. From the base to the head she goes with barely a complaining mouth. To you, it’s everything already. But to her—oh no, don’t get it twisted: this is just the beginning of it. A teaser to what will happen.

Her tongue laps side to side while she takes you in her mouth. You let out a stilted breath.

“Damn, you really, really like that, huh?” She pauses momentarily to lick your balls, then travels her tongue to the sides of your rod. With one lick, there’s another ball of heat tightening in you. And another; you’re moaning. 

“Y-yeah.”

“I see.” (She doesn’t; she’s closed her eyes while nursing your sore cock. Okay, now she does.) “What’s something you really wanted to do to me?”

You exhale. It’s the only laugh you can manage to create. “Ah. Where do I even begin?” 

Eunbi brushes your cockhead over her pouted lips. Your toes curl. “Tell me? Please?” she says.

Talking to Eunbi is easy. You can tell her anything and she’d be there, listening patiently and adding a joke sometimes. But when you’re asked to narrate all the things you’ve wanted to do to her, it’s a difficult task.

How do you say you’ve wanted to bend her over a desk while you finish between her legs?

How do you say you’ve strained for the opportunity to ask her out, with the first date being consummated by steamy, romantic sex by the moon?

How do you say you’ve wished for everything, from romantically cheesy to filthily rough, when it comes to her?

“I—I’ve thought about cumming in your throat,” you admit. That’s the first step. You run your fingers through her hair. Take care not to mess the braids. “Making you swallow all of it.”

Eunbi looks smug. “Sure, I can do that,” she chirps. “I mean, I’m me, right?”

“You’re a brat.”

“So make me shut up. Stuff this fat cock down my throat. Make me gag with your load. You always wanted to, right?”

Eunbi’s a challenging girl. She pushes you to go the extra mile, makes you do things you never thought you could. Tonight is no different.

You don’t care to keep the aesthetics of her hairdo anymore. You bunch her hair up in one tight ponytail then shove yourself inside. No gentleness in your body, you feed her wet and waiting mouth.

What bests the other in terms of tightness: her pussy or her throat? You don’t know. Can’t choose properly either. Observe anyway: this orifice provides the perfect wetness and a tongue that services you with glides and licks. Then you have that tight hole when you push yourself deep. You can feel her breaths being blocked by your girth.

Start to thrust away. In the beginning, she still has it in her to suck. You can feel the strength of it doing away at your length. But now, she can barely breathe to even do it. You’re just pushing her face into your stomach and her nose to your navel. You’re using her, which you’ve sworn you never would do. But she’s asking for it. Can’t you break your oath just once? Or at least, whenever she asks for it?

“Can I say how pretty you look like this?” 

The blush on her cheeks adds to the aura of it all. Her eyes are glowing with tears as they blink at you, and she’s started to salivate all over you. She can’t take it all, yet she’s so determined to that you want to stop and praise her. As you fuck her face sloppily, the thought that she’s beautiful still hasn’t left your head. Even when you’re ruining her, you’re still starstruck.

You’re a little flustered yourself. She’s so gorgeous that it sometimes makes you want to go call every visual storm in a rainforest ugly. She’s the prettiest little raindrop, and you stand by that.

“You’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll take all that I’ve got for you?”

She nods so innocently you wouldn’t think that she was having her face used.

She’s promised you to swallow all of your cum, and Kwon Eunbi? She never breaks promises.

Twist the ponytail you’ve bunched together to push her head firm to your stomach. She chokes, her throat constricting. Just what you wanted. You limit the movement of your hips so that you could shove that pretty face into you and make her put that mouth to good use. She’s good at that; even with her gags that somehow sound more heavenly than concerning, she takes and takes and takes your length. 

Pounding away, you bask in the squeeze of her throat, her hold on your thighs, her eyes tearing up. Her glasses are lopsided, and this time you don’t fix them. You caress her cheek then tilt her chin up. Her mouth’s an easy place to access in this position. The imprint of your cock bobs in her thin neck.

“Oh!” she gasps for air once you retreat. 

She sucks sloppily on you when you rub yourself on the inside of her cheek to lead you to a climax. After you’re certain it’s right around the corner, you start to jerk off in front of her face. As much as you’d love to completely release her, you want to see Eunbi fill her mouth with your semen.

Eunbi’s a good girl, so you found out. She doesn’t need instructions for her to cleverly part her lips and wait for it. Her heavy breaths fan your penis.

“Almost there, little raindrop,” you say, “just be good and wait.”

She sticks her tongue out and you aim for it. Eunbi closes in and fills the top of her tongue with your thick release. It pools in her mouth so satisfyingly that you almost wish you could keep cumming forever—not for the pleasure of it but to see her keep that desperate face on.

“Swallow.”

Eunbi shows off the plentiful evidence of your orgasm puddling in her mouth, then does so. After she gulps, she pants. Laughs a little, too. She has a way of finding humor in the most absurd situations. For example: your professor’s voice cracking in the middle of a rant. Your dad calling her “a very well-mannered young lady.” Having her face fucked.

“Do you know you’re, ah, shaking?” she asks, fixing her exposed bosom back in her bra. 

(You are.)

(But, to be fair, she’s made a mess on the carpeted hotel room floor. That’s kinda worse. The saliva can’t be differentiated from her girl cum. But at least yours can.)

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say anyway.

“Anytime.”

Amazing how things could grow awkward after you just abused her throat. You’re like two strangers trying to make conversation, and you’re everything but that, aren’t you? 

“How ‘bout this: d’you know that you glow after being fucked?”

“Shouldn’t you do it again?” She climbs onto the bed you’ve collapsed on. She places your hand on her thigh. “Keep me pretty?”

There’s nothing that could make her look unflattering. The messy hair is wild but she’s still a princess. But if that’s what she wants… well, she’s the last person you’d want to say no to.

“You’re insatiable.” Nevertheless, you let her bring your hand to her used core. You love how she stiffens when you start to rub circles around her clit.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t, too.” Eunbi presses her mound close to the heel of your hand. For a moment, she’s frozen. Then, her lips are next to your ear, telling you of a tale older than her lust. “I want you to do everything you want with me, everything.”

You’ve lost count of all the things you want to do to her. From things as sweet as tucking her in after a bad day to the filthiest like defiling that ass since that day she wore cycling shorts alone, your mind just runs with ideas. You can’t choose.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” she whines out. Her sighs grow sporadic. “So give it all to me.”

“Like I said: incredibly demanding.”

“You asshole.” She chokes this out as you start to roughly prod her nub. “You fucking… gatekeeper of dick.”

“Well, it’s my cock. I think I get to decide what happens with it.”

“You’re selfish.” Her voice gets higher. Her winces grow often, and Eunbi’s starting to babble out these little words of biteless barks. “You’re so, so cruel. You don’t know what I’d do, I will—I will—”

Before it happens, you place your hand on the back of her neck. She doesn’t even get to glare at you because it all happens so fast. You don’t know how you did it. Not just this, but everything else: how you managed to befriend her, how you managed to lay her. 

How you managed to push her not too gently to the wall, her chest pressing its solidness. How you managed to perfectly time it so that her head is tilted to the side so you could still catch a glimpse of that face. How you managed to pull up her bra and free those tits.

How you managed to say: “Do you know what I would do to you?”

Because there’s a million things you could do to Kwon Eunbi—the girl you’ve got pinned beneath you who’s absolutely tense with want. Your little kisses melt the freeze of her shoulders; you can hear her soft moans again.

Her lashes flutter over the undersides of her eyes. “Please,” she squeaks out, “do tell.”

“I’d rather show.”

Eunbi hums strainedly. You pierce through her again, It’s the second time and her velvety pussy still barely budges at your contradictingly welcome visit. Press your stomach into her back till you’re buried deep inside her. As a result, she’s shoved harder into the wall. Then you retrieve yourself handlessly from her, then put yourself in again.

She pants heavily, matching those of yours. She’s shaking, the only leverage to stay upright is your body on hers. Your rhythm is not too different from earlier and Eunbi still finds herself seeing it as something so new. She still spasms and quakes around you. Anything you give to her, she takes gladly. Each thrust pushes out a feeble cry from her throat and from within.

Her arms stretch to support her stance to the painted wall. You adore them, like you do to every other part of her. But these—these beautiful, strong arms whose minimal bulges hint of well-trained muscles—they do a number on you. You run your hands all along them, not making it easier for her. Everywhere you touch delivers a quiver running through her body. 

Although you touch first from the sides, her chest already feels big. You caress her curves before placing your hands right on her breasts. They’re your guilty pleasure, the kind that makes you pray for forgiveness because you don’t even know if you’re worthy of stealing glances at them. Maybe you are, because you’re getting to hold them. It’s a divine sign, if you do say so yourself.

Clutch them. Use them to plunge to places left unnavigated in her cunt. She’s dripping all over you, and it somehow plays the role of lubricant. It lets you thrust easily and keep her wet enough for more.

Any touch you trace on her beautiful body makes her quake. You brush your fingertips lightly over her clit, and the squeeze of her hole strengthens. You massage her fantastic hips and waist and you’re rewarded with a feral cry. Kissing her does no good in helping her calm down because, if anything, she gets more worked up.

“Oh, look at that, Eunbi.” You continue thrusting in her, pushing her limits far from the bounds, and she’s got her hands on her face, tears on her palms. “You’re so desperate. You squeeze so tight around me.”

Standing is something she’ll soon be incapable of doing for her legs are beaten down by your movements. “Not exactly my fault,” she says. “You know who’s to blame? You. You and that smug face and smug everything. You—” 

How is it possible that you  can make her garble but lose her words as well? Eunbi’s excessive whining comes to a halt as you plummet said cock deeper. Silent screams escape her open mouth and she’s clinging to the surface in front of her like she’d slip if she didn’t. There’s a possibility that that’s true—when you let go of her hip, she almost falls.

“You—” If you didn’t know Eunbi, you’d think her voice had contempt in it.

“What about me? Can you tell me?” You know that’ll annoy her.

It does, for she says: “W-wow, big ego.” She whimpers quietly at the soft kisses you place on her neck. The circumstances don’t allow her insult to hit properly. It just swells your pride.

“I know another thing from me and mine that's big.”

Eunbi growls. “Then put it to good—fucking—use.”

She has a point. Why are you fucking her rough when you could be even more so? Your touch climbs from her waist, tiny, to her boobs that can be described as every adjective in the thesaurus except for that. Afterwards, you carry out a brutal pace which drives her so into the wall that you’re not sure how she hasn’t made a dent in it yet. Her only protection from its hardness is your hands on her bust. 

Nothing can protect her from your hardness, however. It’s almost cruel how pink that milky white skin is, culprit of the defilement being your core that slams and slams into it. But you know she likes it this way. So why stop? Of course, there’s no reason to.

“God, please– you’re—” Her expression changes. Pleasure becomes bliss as bliss becomes paradise. “Oh no, I think I’m close.”

No quote from philosophers and learned individuals could inspire you like that simple statement. Yes, she’s close to cumming. And it’s because of you, she just confirmed it. So you tweak her hard nipples and tilt your moves up. You must have hit a certain spot because a simple “oh” turns to a scream. Several of them actually, each increasing the smacks of your hips on her butt and your lips’ ravages on that delicate, vulnerable swan’s neck.

“Hngh, I can’t! I can’t, I can’t, harder, please!” she yells, falling back to the wall and shaking. 

Your moves become frequent and rough. Your hands join in with the roughness; they begin to harshly pinch and grab her boobs until she unravels. 

Eunbi suppresses her scream into a whiny cry and falls into you, unable to keep her balance anymore. The flood rages in her core and overflows. Your cum slides out of her pussy as she tightens and loosens. She frantically pushes her ass back into you to keep the climax on a high, coupled with sharp shrieks of affirmation.

“Keep fucking me,” she rasps, “keep ruining me.”

Her voice ranges between low and sexy to high and needy. Both sides, however, are draining you. It’s the way the sweat sticks to her gasping face and how her legs are practically limp. She’s completely under your control, and you… like it? Is that how it’s supposed to work?

“Yes, yes—don’t stop.” Her nails scratch the paint. “Don’t, wait, not inside me. Okay? You can’t.”

You manage to successfully quiet your groan of disappointment. You pull out reluctantly. Tell yourself you already ejaculated in her moments ago, so it’s only fair for it to be once. However, your cock’s still rock hard. What do you do about it? You’ve already done more than you should with her. It was all supposed to be just one kiss. How did you get here?

She turns around and places her hands on your shoulders. Her palms are sweaty in spite of the air-conditioner breezing in the room. The exhaustion on her face from sex is there, and so is this little serious look. 

“I want you to cum,” she says, “in my ass.”

Thoughts. Too many of those, none pure. Thoughts of Eunbi that didn’t stay as fantasies because look at them bleeding into reality. Silence, too—you’re not saying they speak louder than words, but of course you can tell she’s serious with those watery bunny eyes.

“What?”

And of course you gotta act like a prude. What the hell? You? A prude? That’s a fucking lie. You’ve pleasured yourself countless times to the thought of her and that body, so why are you backtracking? As Eunbi would say, right after you made fun of lazy students while never studying much yourself, “Hypocrite.”

“What?” Eunbi drags your hands down that supple ass and makes you squeeze its full cheeks. “I want you to get your money’s worth from that expensive lube and pound me. And don’t you even think of stopping.”

You glance at the plastic-wrapped bottle on the bedside table, then back at her. It just doesn’t make sense. You—you and your awkwardness and spontaneous bursts of overconfidence—getting to cross the line? Everyone has probably doubted their worth one way or another, in stories written the same as yours, but is she serious? Does she really, really plan on letting you do it?

You look down at your bare feet. She sighs loudly, obviously and slightly irritated at your hesitation. Only an idiot would pass up that opportunity. But maybe you want to be an idiot—because fucking her would mean wanting her. You’ve already done both. You’ve made her cum twice and always wanted to do so, always desired her. To you, it just makes you worse than the rest of the men who vied and strived for her.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Eunbi,” you tell her quietly. Let them rage at your words as if your life were a movie and they were a judgmental audience, but it’s true. You can’t violate more unwritten rules. 

She lifts her head, her face parallel to your own. “What if I want you to?”

-

You blackmailed everyone into reading your story, you’ll say it straight up. This isn’t a love story or tragedy, or whatever. This is a tale about you being too generous. You’re always giving Eunbi what she wants. Every key point’s been triggered by her wishes—from her bailing answers out of you right up to this passionate Christmas Eve. You’re the genie who keeps giving her extra. Oh, you’re a pretty girl, you see, you’d say, blue hand stroking her hair, so of course you can ask for more. It’s all on me, beautiful. All on me.

You keep granting. And granting. And granting. 

“Spread those legs.”

Because it’s all written on paper, in the law of nature: she’ll be the one who calls you names and drags you around. But here? Nothing remotely close to that. She’s the girl who sits on the counter of the kitchen table, and opens her legs. Why? Because you told her to. You’ve already fucked all the sass out of that sharp-tongued mouth. There’s little left.

In this wealth-stealing coup of a hotel room, she’s the one who does what you want. She’d slacken her mouth to have you give her a throatpie. She’d ride you like she would a pillow if you asked her. But in a way, behind the scenes, it’s her screenwriting it all. She’s got it predicted from front to base—you’ll fuck her here. And there. You’ll do what she wants and do what you want. Make it meet in the middle.

Because, you think as you slick her asshole and your cock with the lubricant, that’s what friends do.

The edges of Eunbi’s palms are on the counter. You can see them struggle to keep her body upright. You can’t really say you blame the girl when the two of you have done too many things to fit into one night. Anal is another you’re trying to squeeze into a tight schedule.

But that’s what she wants. And, (heads up—skip if you don’t like spoilers): you just so happen to have a habit of being too easily swayed by pretty women.

“Open more.”

“There’s enough already,” she whines, words pitched and tiny. 

“I know, Eunbi. Baby.” You’re clinging on that high of seeing the color rose her cheeks. In every way, red (can’t be pink when it’s that dark) looks good on her. 

Eunbi’s breath skips a pattern. Her ass retreats at your touch yet goes back every time for you to hold. “You’re too good at this,” she says, speaking as if the words were a foreign language. Which is to say: cute. It’s like when she speaks English; it comes out sounding like fresh, pretty talk.

“Glad you’ve come to terms with that.”

“Wow.” Can’t tell if she said that at your cock pressing to her anal hole or at your quickness to speak. “Okay.”

“I mean, I’m serious. I only called you baby. How does that make me good?”

Eunbi coos when you touch the side of her face. Hold its jawline over the line your palm calls its own. Glimmering sweat and exhaustion and lust, she still has ways to make you go crazy. Your hand comforting her shudders nearly makes her forget you just want her to admit that you’re cut from the rest.

Both of you know what’s true anyway. 

“I just…” Eunbi kisses the space between your index and thumb. “I just fall in love too fast.”

“How fast are we talking?”

“I won’t tell you, it’s been crystal clear since the time I met you. But for this?” She taps your hip impatiently. “As fast as you can.”

Her voice deepens, a stretch from her cheerful pitch. Where did that come from? She smirks at the change in your face, but she can’t hide the desperation in hers. 

Her hole and your cock are shiny with the lubrication. Turns out the lube was a good buy; getting the tip inside her proves to be easy. However, it can’t help your job in hilting the entirety inside her. Thighs that glisten with wetness and lube wrap around you. Her midriff tenses, and so does her hole. So do her hands on your arms.

There’s already her cum and yours wetting her ass, as well as the lube you bought that was crazy expensive. So why is she still so tight? Her squeals thin and her face makes clear the labor. You’re spreading her apart in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

She’s straining, too. Eunbi’s using every method in the book to allow your width to enter more: breathing deeply, relaxing her body, spreading her legs. But they don’t seem to work for her when her ass is only focused on closing around the little you’ve put inside her.

“Why do you have to be so big?” she whines. She pushes her cheeks to your stomach, inching you south and into her. “Why does it have to feel so good? Don’t just stand there. Fuck me. Split me open, I need it.”

Her wish is your command. That’s three wishes she’s making there and you’ll grant all of them. In a hard moment of pure will, you pull yourself out and slam yourself harshly into her tight body. Your attempt is successful; your whole girth is snugly hugged by her round butt. The enclosed walls of her anal ring are so overwhelming that you’re close to blowing your load already.

If you’re a genie, Eunbi’s the taker of wishes. She takes and takes and takes, even with your cock prodding past the hurting limits of her little asshole, and she does it oh so well. She’s probably seeing ghosts or the stars they’ve become with the way she’s not even looking at you anymore. No, her body is slanted up to allow you to give what you can. And by what you can, you mean your all.

Eunbi sobs and hugs you close. For comfort? Assurance? Speed? You’ll give her all three. That’s six wishes there, but with her, there’s no limit. You hold her as you find a perfect pace, one that makes her thighs squish on the ledge of the table and has her mouth gaping while you’re making another orifice of hers do the same.

When did pain feel this good? Eunbi doesn’t know. But she loves and accepts it. She’s reciprocating your thrusts with her own ones. It feels too good, so good that the sounds coming out of her are difficult to comprehend. She’s moaning, yet crying, too. Crying yet gasping in delight. Gasping in delight yet panting as if it were too much.

There’s one thing you’re certain of, though: she’s enjoying it. Wetness drools from her cunt and onto your shaft. It’s only a tiny bit of help, but it already aids in fucking her ass open sloppily. Her breaths are warm gushes of wind on your skin, and soon in the air as she throws her head back. Have to place a hand behind her neck to prevent her from bumping onto the all-too-near cupboard.

“So good, so big, can feel you t-throbbing,” she mumbles. Her lips purse before releasing a sharp moan. You’ve just placed your mouth on one of her breasts. “Know you wanted to do this. Saw you, hnn, staring at my ass.”

“Who can blame me?” You lightly slap her backside. “This thing is the best.”

“You got me so...” Eunbi’s gasp becomes a little lost ghost when you start to suck on her brown nipple. “I wore them, those ridiculous shorts, just for you. Wanted you to make me feel good, make me hurt, oh, I want it so bad—”

Her words pierce and break. Their propriety becomes worse yet the willpower they induce becomes stronger. Rapidity becomes a pastime when you’re pumping her. Of course, that’s already a given when the girl’s absolutely incapable of keeping quiet. Anything you do to her she reacts to. She’s still the same girl in the sheets as she is when she’s out and about, and it makes this sinful act—anally ruining her—seem like something so endearing.

Your thumb starts to rub her clit again. You’ve done this plenty of times in this hotel room right after the heat started, yet it still gauges the same reaction from her. She can’t stay still. She wants to stay in one place to receive you better but there’s the pleasurable pain in her ass, your mouth on her bosom, your hand feeling her up. She can’t take it, and you can’t either. She’s a combination of wetness and tightness and loudness and shrillness—you’re both too much for the other.

A lit match to a flamed lighter.

“Oh, god, no.” Eunbi’s teeth dig into your shoulder before retracting. Signs of her sobs linger and roll down her perfect face that wields an expression you admit to have fantasized often on her. “You’re gonna make me cum again. You're gonna make me cum again, I can’t handle it. Please—fffu—”

You stuff your fingers inside her. Match the pace with how you’re fucking her into the kitchen wall. She clenches around you and doesn’t let go. The wet squelching sounds compels you to be harsher with her. Fuck her like it doesn’t mean anything, just like she wants you to.

“Mmm!” Eunbi shrieks at the harsh intrusions she thought would be over. 

“Not over yet.” You kiss her. “Still gotta cream this perfect ass.”

The promise of that makes her blush. Red and sweaty, she exercises those toned arms by using them in fucking herself on your cock. The pleasure is addicting, and she’s still keeping you to that oath to cum inside her a second time. 

She’s so wet that it’s almost unbelievable. Your fingers curl, spread, jam themselves in her, and each time they pull out they’re soaked to the knuckles. Her clit twitches and you get your touch on there again. A little leak of cum wrinkles your hand from it.

“You really want it, huh?” Hiss at how she bounces that jiggling rear onto you. “Just a little more, baby. You’re gonna have to do much better than that.”

Since when did Eunbi do what you say? Since when did she do it with this much enthusiasm? Despite your shaft wrecking her insides and rearranging her guts, along with the orgasm she’s had, she perseveres. She rolls her body, a snake’s dance, and takes you in further. You admire how much you’ve spread her. Hold her backside to guide her. 

You pity the housekeeper who’d have to clean up evidence of your sin. There’s her wetness on the kitchen table, the smell of carnal need in the air, sheets torn by the little power Eunbi’s fingernails have. But there’s no regrets, you think, for this one:

An explosion. The kind that doesn’t kill but brings her to life. Its origin is the base of your cock and birth inside her tight little ass. Hold her close. Slam inside her as if you were mad at her, while she lets out gasped repetitions of “oh, oh, oh.” Now you pull out your digits and resort to furiously rubbing her nub, effectively making her even tighter.

“That’s it, fuck, such a good girl,” you groan. Grip her ass so tightly that it draws a yelp out of her. After it’s all done, you pull out. 

“You,” she drawls when you pull out. She spreads her legs and stares at the semen dripping out of her holes. At the mess you’ve made on the floor, the bed, the table, everything. “You…”

She doesn’t continue what she’s saying, but you’re pretty sure you got the gist of it. It was you who fucked her. It was you who made her climax so many times in one night. It was you, her best friend, who did her in.

“Yeah,” you say, laughing. 

Somehow, the whole experience is making you guilty. You feel like the richest man in the world, the luckiest, too. So why do you feel you did something wrong? 

Eunbi narrows her eyes. She knows you too well. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

You don’t.

“Now kiss me.” Her words fan your chin, a haunting love spell. “Again.”

You do.

-

Christmas comes, and by then you've flown home. You’re at Sakura’s house to celebrate. Green and red are all over the place: red cupcakes on a baking tray, old books leaning against each other, the rug beneath you and her friends. There’s a giant statue of Santa Claus, overweight and jolly, at the corner next to the Christmas tree. What used to be under the plant were gifts Eunbi specifically said not to touch until 12 a.m midnight. No sleeping in now that you’re well aware that the man himself isn’t real.

Sakura’s undoing the ribbon on her gift, but her eyes are on you and Eunbi. “There’s something really weird going on with you two,” she says. 

The girls nod and hum choruses of agreement: yes, he and the bunny leader are acting odd lately. No, they don’t know why. Is it because of the vacation? Seasonal depression (but with Christmas lights!)? They’re gonna find out for sure.

You and Eunbi look at each other. Your faces hold an unreadable expression, until you take an interest in one evergreen branch and her in the collar of her ugly Christmas sweater.

“Nah,” you say.

“Nothing much,” she echoes, drinking her hot chocolate.

Yena groans, tired of your pretentiousness. “You fucked, didn’t you?” 

A liquid spray of sugar lands on the rug, courtesy of Eunbi. The girls begin cackling, slapping their hands on their thighs and on each other. You look away to manage your laughter. Unfortunately, it’s as loud as Eunbi’s scheming little members.

“That means yes!” Yujin shouts gleefully. Her dimples are printed on her cheeks.  “You owe me ten thou, Yena unnie!”

Christmas spirit truly is in the air. They’re jumping up and down, laughing and cheering, while you two are mortified. You’re the Grinches of the holidays, but even that can’t sour their happiness. 

“It worked!”

“I can’t believe it worked!”

“They’re so obvious about it, too!”

“No wonder Eunbi unnie was limping when they came home!”

The whole thing was a setup. It’s all dawning in on you. Why else would eleven girls pool ridiculous amounts of money for a two-person trip? You’ve given them the best Christmas present of their lives unknowingly. 

But with how much Eunbi loves them, she’s okay with that. 

You are, too.

-

“Hey.”

You lift yourself up from the comfort of the pillows and sheets. Eunbi’s standing at your bedpost. She still has on the sweater, courtesy of your mother, and her ears are still pink. That’s one of the cutest things about her: when she gets shy or humiliated, it’s pretty obvious.

How do you go about this? It’s been awkward and silent ever since you had sex. It’s so unlike your dynamics, and it’s scaring you. You don’t want to lose her. Is that the same on her end?

At the end of the day, though, she remains your best friend. You’ll always reserve a place for her with you.

“Hi.” You pat your bedclothes, and she sits.

She looks away as she pushes a paper shopping bag in your arms. “Merry Christmas.”

You wonder how you didn’t see it peeking from her tiny back. The bag isn’t too heavy, but it obviously is something large with how much you can feel whatever is inside it. Quickly stapled and taped, it’s a last-minute present for sure. Did she forget you? Of course, your heart squeezes with the idea of it.

“Way to time your—”

“Don’t be stubborn and just open it. Please?”

Do so. 

It’s a bag. Not just any bag—it’s a brand new original of the backpack she lost you all those months ago. She’s got it down to the same color (gray), design (two pockets, with black zippers and one for a bottle) and size (medium). The only thing that sets it apart from your first one is the unavailability of shreds and tatters on the bottom side.

Stare at it, dumbfounded. How did she track it down? It’s sure to be expensive, seeing as it isn’t thrifted and is wrapped in the branded plastic of an overseas branch. “Eunbi,” you say.

“It was shipped later than expected.” She shrugs, trying to play it off. Still, you can hear her laughing shyly. “Hope you like it.”

“I told you to save yourself the trouble.”

You lift the bag up and stare at it. The transparent plastic allows you to marvel at its beauty. The faint scent of newness fills your nostrils. 

But the real beauty is the one who sits on your bed late on Christmas night, with her hands folded neatly on her lap like a Catholic schoolgirl. A few locks of her hair are braided with red ribbons to go with the season of giving. Her brows are as dark as her glasses, her cheeks as red as her ugly sweater.

“I like it when you trouble me.”

As always, her statements hold more meaning than they should. And, like you could through her eyewear, you can see right through them. Knowing what she tried to say causes you to inch closer to her. The sides of your thighs press against each other.

“Makes me want to trouble you more,” you reply. 

She lifts her head. Already the light cockiness she so often brings with her pours back into her face, and you couldn’t be more relieved to see it again. “So do it.”

Things have a way of coming back to you. Your bag, the thrill of meeting her again, Eunbi. Not everything will return, but then it’s probably just a sign that things aren’t gonna be bad forever. There will be days you’ll get to have a vacation with her again, the promise of December’s Christmasses, being with her and her friends you’ve grown to love. There will be days for new beginnings, like this one. This is a fresh start with her. There will also always be days you’ll do whatever she wants, which somehow align with what you want too.

Refer to this:

You kiss her, your little trouvaille.

[cokou]

What OP Men post about you on Reddit

OP 男性があなたについて Reddit に投稿するもの。

𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒄

sum. Your boyfriend posted about you on reddit. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. NSFW ON KIDDS PART! Fluff overall! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. Im sorry for so late uploads, i got sick once again😭😭😭 // Do not translate or transfer any of my works, this is my only account (exp. AO3) will not be cross posted anywhere else. // Masterlist

r/NSFW Eustass.Kidd

I (25 M) fucked my girlfriend (24 F) so hard that i had to get her into the hospital to get a medical treatment on her cervix.

The doctors told us that everything was wounded up inside her and it looked like she got abused from her lacked of walking, we had to get police involved in our house to investigate what had happened and found the dildo i used on her and it was examined on their lab for any contaminated illness.

My girlfriend refuses to see me from how bad her state had gotten and the police interogated me to make that everything was okay at home. My best friend had gotten involved from how bad my girlfriend couldn't walk and had to assure that I wasn't abusing anyone to the police, it took 3 days for them to fully give out on the case.

My girlfriend had been discharged from the hospital 2 days ago and she still refuses to talk to me, i got her flowers for apology and her favorite food as an apology. She told me that she could take all of me in bed and now everything just went downhill since i got out of control in her.

Now everyone of my friends teases me about what happened and they laughed me off every time they see me, Reddit what should i do?

Comments;

Her problem dude, she said she could take it!

You're at fault for taking her word at all. ➣ Eustass.Kidd replied: fuck off single mf.

—

r/girlfriends Msxr.Kill

My girlfriend (24 F) and I (26 M) have been dating for almost 5 years now, tomorrow will be our 5th anniversary and I'm planning to propose to her, but the problem is I don't know how. My brain can't take so much ideas so much and my friends aren't helping me at all.

My girlfriend is the most precious person ever, and i believe she deserves the best in the world. My ideas can't convince me enough that they're good for her, and what if she doesn't like it and rejects me? I don't want that. I asked her bestfriend on what places she especially loves, and I was told to take her on an aquarium proposal.

I don't know what to do and my girlfriend is making me all nervous around her as well, i need help ASAP.

Comments;

Eustass.Kidd: Just tell her to marry you wtf ➣Msxr.Kill replied: You're not helping at all Kidd.

Heat_er: You suck at planning lol. ➣Msxr.Kill replied: Heat I don't wanna hear that from you, you don't even have anyone to love.

—

r/AITA Dr._Trafalgar

Am i the asshole for kicking out my girlfriend from my office?

I, (26 M) kicked my girlfriend (24 F) out of my office because she knocked off all the papers off my shelves and dragged me out forcefully. Now she refuses to talk to me and it's been 2 days. My friends told me that i was the asshole and was wrong for kicking her out.

But the thing was those papers were almost 592 pages and i only ended up finding 578 of them, now my girl moved to her friends house and absolutely doesn't answer my calls or text messages.

Her friends texted me that i was the asshole for not spending time with her and paid attention all to myself only not her needs, the papers were worth so much that i could feed her and let us both live together financially, and now i was forced to redo all 592 pages in A WEEK.

so am i the asshole?

Comments;

Your.name: Yes yta🙄 ➣Dr._Trafalgar replied: get your ass home.

—

r/girlfriends Chef_Sanjii

My girl is the best in the whole wide world, she's do beautiful, so pretty, so perfect, and every thing she does hypnotizes me. Her beautiful nature makes me inlove with her more every second, her intelligence for everything makes her so special, she is not like any other women ever.

In fact, she is the best in the whole whole world. Not only does her pretty face shine in the darkness, but the way her body sways when she walks or does something is so majestic. I'm so lucky to have such a girlfriend like this, and i know that she will always love forever.

The way she interacts with even the smallest things are cute, in fact all of her is cute. The way her hands hold something and it shows that her body is perfect in every inch. She's none like others, no one can ever EVER compare to my girl, one day i will marry her and see her on the aisle and i wouldnt be able to hold my tears as she walks in a wedding dress.

Her facial features resembles a goddess, she trurly is flawless. No matter what anyone says, she'll be the most MOST perfect woman in the whole entire world. I love love her so much, she's the best that ever happened to me. Her love melts me warm and her words make me putty on her hands.

It's safe to say that she too, loves me, and that our relationship definitely is mutual. Love her so much.

Post was liked by Msxr.Kill & 7,251 others.

—

r/wifey Kuz._an

My wife's cooking is terrible but I don't wanna tell her that and destroy her feelings.

My wife and I had been married for almost 9 years now, she cooks for me daily ever since we have moved in together. Her cooking used to be good, but for some reason it tastes like burnt ketchup over burnt cheese. It looks appealing to look, but the tastes seems to be missed.

Her seasonings are full of bell pepper and black pepper, it terribly sucks. I love my wife to the fullest, but when it comes to her cooking, It feels like I'm on a prison cell. I'm sorry My Love, it's the truth.

Comments;

Unknown: Being honest is his forte. Unknown: COMMENT DELETED Unknown: Atleast your wife tries. Unknown: COMMENT DELETED

©Cokou 2024, all works belongs to me.

[heavenlyraindrops]

Academic Rivals to Lovers prompts

Constantly fighting each other for the top spot on leaderboards

entering the same academic competitions

heated arguments during class debates full of tension

Fighting over the same book that they need in the library

fighting over the same secluded spot to relax/ study in

studying in the library reading until super late, they’re the only people left, seated deliberately far away from each other as they lose track of time. And then they get locked in cause the librarian/ caretaker locked up the place for the night forgetting to check if there was anyone left inside.

when the bickering and fighting in classes get so bad that the teacher yells at them and makes them clean out the classroom together after class as punishment

secretly admiring each other for their intelligence/ grades

forced to tutor someone together by the teacher

A is lacking a subject B is good at, teacher makes B tutor A (or vice versa)

glaring at each other or bumping into each other on purpose in the hallways

Ends up joining the same club, too passionate about it to leave

alternatively, they’re both on the debate team and get in heated arguments during practice

forced to take the same route back home after school

stuck on a group project together and end up carrying the team

alternatively, fighting for leadership/ control within the group

alternatively (again), paired together (instead of a group) and fighting with each other over details and nitpicking each other’s work

forced to sit next to each other in class/ be lab partners for the rest of the term

forced to correct/ grade/ review or look at each other’s work

taking a class test next to each other, A is struggling with a question, B surprisingly helps them

[carlsdarling]

Heated arguments

Carl and Y/N have an argument, then some make-up sex, and it gets really emotional... More of a plot, and also sex and fluff. Everyone is 18 or over. (This was requested, but the request somehow vanished from my inbox, don't know.)

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex

You were just fed up. Carl's overprotective attitude, the way he constantly tried to control you and forbid you to do things, and you glared at him angrily when he scolded you for going on a supply run with Maggie and Glenn for once and then leaving them to search a pharmacy and getting surrounded by walkers. You'd wanted to search the pharmacy for a few more personal items, including condoms.

"You could have died," Carl told you, his face pale with anger, his jaw tense. "You almost died!"

"No, I wouldn't have died," you contradicted defiantly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you kidding me?" Carl's voice pitched. "Maggie told me that there were at least a dozen walkers in the pharmacy when she and Glenn came in, and that you were stuck on top of a cabinet! If Maggie and Glenn hadn't vanquished the walkers, they would have tipped the cabinet over and eaten you alive."

"No, they wouldn't have," you replied against your better judgment. "The walkers would have given up."

Carl stared at you, stunned, his eye narrowed. "Are you really that stupid, Y/N, or are you just faking it?" he insulted you, ruffling his hair. "You know, I may not want to admit that my girlfriend has a birdbrain, but obviously she does," he stated brutally. "No one with a shred of intelligence would put themselves in a predicament like that! And then you get upset that I'm supposedly controlling you? Yes, maybe I do, but the reason is that you're stupid and reckless and can't take care of yourself!" Angrily, he clenched his right fist and punched a locker.

You flinched at his words and his outburst of anger, and you began to seethe inside. "Oh yeah, but of course Carl Grimes The Almighty is perfect! Who puts themselves in danger all the time, on purpose? You do! How many times have I told you not to go into dark stores alone to loot unimportant stuff?"

Only recently you had scolded Carl for going into an abandoned department store just to get an old CD player for you. Beaming like a child, he had presented the item to you and had been as proud as all the times before when he had taken extra dangerous actions just to be able to give you presents - perfume, jewelry, make-up, books, anything he knew you would like. No matter how many times you told him to stop, he wouldn't listen to you.

"At least I can look after myself," Carl replied angrily. "You can't. I forbid you to go on any tours without me!"

You put your hands up indignantly. "You don't have any right to forbid whatsoever, Carl! Fuck you!" you shouted at him before turning around abruptly and running off in the direction of your house.

"Fine!" Carl called after you. "Then do what you want!" Enraged, he marched off in the opposite direction, his hands in his pockets. It was true that he regularly did dangerous things himself - but only to please you and impress you. No, actually that was only half the truth. Carl's missing eye made him feel inferior to the other new lads in Alexandria, and he lived in constant fear that you might leave him for one of them. Carl couldn't bear the thought of losing you, so he desperately tried to impress and spoil you to prove to you that he was the best option for you. Even if it meant risking his life.

You slammed the door behind you in anger and even started cleaning the house in your frustration. Who did Carl think he was?

Not even an hour passed before there was a knock at the door. Standing on the threshold - Carl. You looked at him in silence. "Can I come in?" he asked shyly. Wordlessly, you let him in. "I... can we get along again?" He looked at you pleadingly and his hands were shaking, he was obviously nervous.

"Carl, you called me a birdbrain, I..."

"I didn't mean it that way," he murmured, hugging you and burying his face against your shoulder. "Let me make it up to you?"

Your body responded to Carl as it always did, and you moaned softly as he began to kiss your neck. You were like wax in his hands; you always had been, and you didn't protest as he directed you to the couch in the living room, swept the cushions down and pressed you onto the padding. "Carl, this is inappropriate, we're still in an argument," you whispered, gently trying to push him away.

"I was thinking of some make-up sex," Carl whispered back, and you succumbed to the temptation - even if it didn't solve your problems. Carl unbuttoned your blouse, unhooked your bra and soon had your jeans and panties pulled down too, leaving you naked in front of him. You couldn't wait to see him naked too and tugged impatiently at his belt. Carl stood up to hastily remove his clothes, and before he was about to lie back down next to you, you grabbed his slim hips, grasping his proudly erected dick and giving the tip some kitten licks, then slowly slid his veiny shaft into your mouth and sucked on it.

Carl's knees got wobbly, he inhaled sharply and began to whimper, then he put his hand on your head, tousled your hair and controlled the movements of your mouth. "Oh yes, please," he whispered breathless with arousal. You cupped his balls with one hand and rubbed them while you continued to slowly suck Carl off. Some precum leaked out of his cock and you swallowed it before suddenly withdrawing from him, eliciting a sound of disappointment from Carl. His dick glistened with your saliva as he lay on top of you without further foreplay, gently forcing your legs apart and thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were more than ready for him and moaned out, your hot, soaking wet walls clenching around his cock. Carl's heart was beating right next to yours as he fucked you with skilled movements. You buried your face in his neck curve, kissing and nibbling his pale skin, while Carl's long hair tickled your face and you inhaled his scent, which intoxicated you as always - the typical, unique Carl scent that made your hormones go crazy.

You lifted your hips. Carl's cock slid in and out with a steady rhythm, and he breathed heavily, again and again he let out those small, adorable moans that turned you on even more. You stroked Carl's back, completely overwhelmed by your feelings for him, it was just you and Carl and your lovemaking, and your whimpering grew louder.

"You cumming?" Carl looked at you, little drops of sweat standing between his eyebrows.

"Carl, oh yes, Carl," you moaned, half senseless with lust. Carl was delighted as always that he was the reason you felt so good, and he would make sure you cum before he did. He withdrew from you almost completely, then slowly penetrated you again, again and again, until you were on the verge of madness. "Oh my God, Carl, you're so good." The orgasm came over you so hard it felt like your head was going to explode , and Carl noticed a new gush of slippery hot moisture welcoming his cock. He quickened his pace, his moans became louder and louder, his thrusts harder and more irregular, then he tensed up, all his muscles tightened, and he had his release right inside your pussy.

Carl stayed on top of you for a while, both of you sticky with sweat and body fluids, and you pressed against him. You two didn't speak until Carl finally pulled his dick out and lay down right beside you. "Are we... good with each other again?" he asked shyly.

You frowned. "The fact remains that you called me stupid, Carl," you said icily.

Carl winced with guilt. "I didn't really mean it. I'm sorry," he whispered glumly, and when you didn't respond, he reached for his jeans, which were lying on the floor next to the sofa, and fished out a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a glittering jaguar. He attempted to hand you the necklace. "Here, I found this when I was scavenging, and I thought..." He seemed anxious.

Anger welled up in you, and you slapped Carl's hand away; the necklace whirled through the air and landed on the ground. "Tell me, don't you get it?" you snapped at him. "I don't want you to keep getting unimportant things for me! You put yourself in unnecessary danger every time! For bullshit like a fucking necklace! And don't tell me you found the necklace by accident!"

Carl blushed and lowered his gaze. "You're right, the jewelry store was full of walkers. It... it's just... well, it's just that..."

You looked at him inquiringly. "It's - what, Carl?" you asked in a softer tone.

Carl struggled with himself, then it all burst out of him. "It's just that there are these new guys in the community, and I can see them staring at you - and at me, with my ruined face. I... what else can I do but go the extra mile to make sure you stay with me? To make you like me? I don't want to lose you, Y/N." Carl's lower lip quivered slightly.

Carl's words touched you and made you sad. He was so insecure about your affection for him that he felt he had to shower you with gifts and attention - even if it meant putting his life on the line. It took you a while before you could answer. Carl didn't look at you, he stared at the ceiling, a single tear trickling from his left eye. It flowed down the side of his cheek and dripped onto the sofa cushion, leaving a dark stain.

"Carl," you said, shocked. "Do you really think I feel so little for you? That I'd leave you for another guy if you didn't make an extra effort to please me all the time? No matter if you risk your life in the process?" You couldn't believe it.

Carl was crying now, and it was the first time you'd ever seen him cry, and it distressed you even more. "I... before those boys came, I was the only one here your age, and... and I was scared that you were only with me, because I am the only option." He sounded bitter. "But now that Ron and Benjamin and Spencer and the other lads are here, well... you have a choice, and why on earth would you pick me?" He sounded completely despondent.

You were completely gobsmacked, and you hugged Carl tightly. "You fucking idiot, you," you said tenderly, brushing his dark hair out of his face and kissing him; his tears tasted salty. "I didn't get together with you because you were the only option, but because I fell in love with you, eye or no eye. And I would never exchange you for another guy. And I don't want you to put yourself at risk to impress me ever again, because I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Carl, I love you more than anything. I love you for who you are"

Carl looked at you, his eye puffy and red. "Really?" he whispered, smiling at you. It took a load off his mind. You felt him finally let go of his worries and his body relaxed.

You nodded. "Please don't ever do that again," you urged him, pointing to the necklace. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said quietly and stood up for a moment to pick up the necklace from the floor. "But I can still give it to you, can't I?" He grinned mischievously. "It's already here."

You rolled your eyes. "All right," you admitted defeat. Carl put the necklace on you and cuddled up to you again. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered happily, wrapping his arms around you.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee

[buckets-and-trees]

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

NEXT PART: CRACKING LOCKS

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[skywalkerslvt]

Work call—Anakin Skywalker

❥Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader

❥Summary: Anakin is feeling neglected and horny because reader has been busy, so he dry humps her shoe while she’s on a work call.

❥CW: 18+, smut, dry humping, voyeurism (?), sub!ani, orgasm denial sorta, pet names

❥a/n: Very short first post! I'm not a professional writer at all so I'm very nervous but excited to share this! NOT PROOFREAD so keep that in mind while reading. Hope you like it!! <3 pics from pinterest

Anakin shut the door to your shared room with a sigh, the weight of a long week bearing down on him like the oppressive heat of a Tatooine sun. It seemed like every mission, every training session, had conspired to test his limits.

To top it all off, Anakin was feeling desperate and pent up, aching for your touch. You had been so wrapped up in your work lately that you barely had any time for him. It had been at least a week and a half since you touched him, and his hand could never make him cum like you could.

The sound of your voice coming from the living room shook him out of his lust-fueled thoughts. Curious, he made his way toward the room, where he saw you on the couch, holopad in hand, on an important work call with your boss.

“...Yes, I'll ensure that our intelligence is up-to-date and accurate for the upcoming mission,” Anakin caught bits and pieces of your conversation as he walked to your shared bedroom, leaving the door ajar as he changed into his sweatpants.

He made his way back over to you, leaning over the back of the couch to nuzzle into your neck. As you let out a content sigh at his affection, an idea sparked in his mind.

He made his way around the couch, dropping to his knees in front of you. Your eyes met his, an apprehensive look on your face. Anakin just smiled sweetly, trailing his hands lightly up your legs while his quickly hardening cock twitched in his pants.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you whispered at him, gently brushing him away, though the warmth in your eyes betrayed your true desire to touch him.

As Anakin opened his mouth with a retort, the flickering blue light of the holopad interrupted.

“Did you say something?” your boss inquired, his holographic image displaying a concerned expression, the lines of his face sharp and defined against the backdrop of the digital interface.

Startled by his inquiry, your fingers slipped on the smooth surface of your holopad, causing you to jump slightly. "Oh! Um, everything's fine, sir," you replied, your voice a touch higher than usual as you tried to regain your composure. "Just... just reviewing some holographic data here, you know how it is, sir. All under control." You flashed a nervous smile, hoping your flustered demeanor would pass as mere enthusiasm.

Anakin started to run his hands up your thighs again when he felt you shift. He let out a surprised gasp at the sudden pressure he felt on his cock, rutting his hips forward slightly. You had your leg stuck between his thighs, foot angled up so the toe of your shoe was on his cock. Anakin looked up at you, but you were seemingly uninterested in him, focusing only on your work.

Anakin shifted his hips experimentally, grinding his pathetically hard cock against your shoe. When he noticed your lips twitch upwards slightly, clearly enjoying the view of Anakin humping your shoe like a dog in heat, he continued his ministrations.

As his hips began to move faster, a small wet patch formed on the front of his pants, his sticky precum making his cock slide against your foot easier. You began to move your foot, matching the fast thrusting of his hips to get him off faster, causing Anakin to let out a high-pitched moan.

“What was that?” questioned your boss, concern evident in his voice. Your eyes shot back to the hologram, and your movements stuttered.

“I-I’m sorry. My puppy was misbehaving,” you said in a rush, pushing your foot painfully against Anakin’s cock as a warning. Anakin let out a strangled whimper but pushed his hips into your foot.

“Your puppy? When did you get a dog?” your boss inquired.

“A few months ago. He’s been a bit needy lately,” you said smugly, beginning to rub against him again.

As your boss continued talking, you and Anakin exchanged a quick glance, hearts racing with the thrill of almost being caught. With a forced smile, you continued your conversation, doing your best to maintain your composure as Anakin continued working himself on your foot.

Anakin thrust upwards, meeting the movements of your foot. The grip he had on your leg became tighter as he worked himself towards his orgasm. His breath came in short gasps, his chest heaving with each thrust. His body tensed against your leg, and you felt him spill into his pants, his cock twitching against your foot through his pants. You moved your foot away from his overstimulated cock as he panted against your leg.

:readmore:

“Oh no…I’m afraid I’ll have to leave this meeting a bit early. My dog made a mess. Looks like he’s gonna need some better training,” you cut off your boss, quickly exchanging your goodbyes and turning off your holopad.

Anakin, still panting, moved to get up, but a firm hand pushed him back to his knees.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, puppy.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Vampire hero x flirty villain but it’s HEAT SEASON *disappears*

“Shit, you’re a mess.” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and tilted their head, clearly amused.

“Yeah, listen…” The hero took in a deep breath. It was worse when they spent time with the villain, it always got worse too. Usually, they would hook up with a stranger but that simply didn’t satisfy them anymore.

The hero didn’t know what was wrong with them, they’d been “alive” for long enough now, they had dealt with this several times and had never had any problems. However, that had changed. And the hero hated change.

“You’re not sick, are you?” The villain took a step towards them. Slowly, they came closer and closer.

“No…no, I’m fine, I…hey, let’s just fight, okay?”

“You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“Honey, you’re looking at everything I have to offer except for my pretty face.” The villain was in front of them now and the hero tried to keep their eyes on the villain’s. “I’ve done a little bit of research on vampires. Either you’re starving or…”

The hero grabbed their hand.

“Don’t say it.”

The villain’s smirk widened.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the villain said. Their fingers traced the hero’s jawline. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, darling. It’s only natural, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…” the hero began. They couldn’t control their thoughts, couldn’t control the daydreams about what they’d do with the villain.

They used to think this was a good thing, a pleasurable thing. But it had turned into a curse, had turned into a bottomless pit.

Deep down, the hero feared they had fallen for the villain. They feared they couldn’t be satisfied without them.

“Honey…” the villain said. They were everything the hero wanted in a partner. Intelligent, protective, flirty. They’d known each other for a while now. “You can’t fight in a state like this. I’ll end up on top of you and we’d reach the same outcome.”

The hero squeezed their eyes shut, trying to ignore their criminal libido. They hadn’t even thought about their actions. It was as if their body had carried them through the streets and to the villain’s apartment.

“I can’t ask that of you, it’s not right.” The hero grabbed the villain’s shoulder in search for something to stabilise them. They could feel their pulse banging in their ears.

“But I was the one suggesting it.” The villain caught the shell of the hero’s ear with their teeth softly. They bit down but released them just as quickly when the hero let out a quiet moan. “And you came to me…”

The hero was quiet. They touched the villain’s neck and caressed it, losing themselves to the feeling of someone actually caring about them.

“I can’t always control myself,” the hero whispered. “The biting or sometimes scratching, I can’t—”

“Hmmm,” the villain hummed and the hero was surprised to see a satisfied smile glued to their face. “I’m into that. So, don’t hold back, got it?”

“Are you sure you—?”

“If you’re really desperate we can do it on my desk, right here,” the villain suggested. They pressed the hero’s hips against the table and the hero could only attempt to whisper the villain’s name when they pressed their knee between the hero’s thighs. “What do you think?”

The hero didn’t know if they wanted to bite or devour the villain. Probably both.

“Y-yes, here is totally fine.”

“What a good vampire you are, hm?” the villain whispered against their ear. Their hand crawled up the hero’s thigh, slowly, agonisingly. “Three taps if it’s too much for you. You choose a safe word.”

The hero nodded.

“What do you want in return? Money? Information?”

“In return,” the villain said, their fingers playing with the hero’s underwear, “I want you to beg for it.”

Thus their affair began.

[nixiefics]

Posses

Pairing: Robb Stark X Silent!Sister Reader

Warnings: Smut, posessive Robb, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), rough sex

Robb Stark winces as you carefully manipulate his leg, guiding his hip back into place with practiced hands. The sharp intake of breath that escapes him when the bone finally clicks into its rightful position tells you just how much pain he’s been enduring. You’ve been a Silent Sister in training for only a short time, but already you’ve seen more suffering than you ever imagined possible. Yet, this man, the Young Wolf, is different. His pain seems to ripple through you as if it were your own.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice strained but genuine. His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget the vow of silence you took upon entering your order. You nod in acknowledgment, your fingers still lingering on his hip, feeling the heat of his body through the thin linen of his undergarment.

Days pass, and you tend to Robb’s injuries with unwavering diligence. His recovery is slow, but each day he grows stronger. You watch as he interacts with his men, see the respect and loyalty they have for him. He’s not just their King; he’s their friend, their brother. It’s a bond forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the fairness and justice he shows them.

Grey Wind, his direwolf, is never far from his side. The massive wolf seems to sense your importance to Robb, often watching you with intelligent, piercing eyes. When you approach, Grey Wind’s posture is relaxed, but the unspoken warning is clear: you are under his protection as well.

But it’s not just his men and his direwolf who are drawn to him. You feel an undeniable pull towards Robb Stark. His kindness, his honour, his unwavering dedication to his family and his cause – all of it captivates you. You’ve seen men broken by war, their spirits shattered as surely as their bodies, but Robb remains whole. More than whole, he seems to grow stronger with each passing day, his determination like a beacon in the dark.

One evening, as you’re tending to another soldier’s wounds, you feel his eyes on you. Robb watches from across the camp, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. Jealousy? The thought lingers as you stitch up the gash on the soldier’s arm, your hands steady despite the intensity of Robb’s gaze. Grey Wind is by his side, growling softly, mirroring Robb’s protective feelings.

Later, as you change the dressing on Robb’s hip, he grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “You spend too much time with the others,” he says, his voice low and edged with frustration. “I need you with me.”

You look up, startled by the intensity in his eyes. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens. “I don’t want you tending to them,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you by my side. Always.”

You nod, your heart pounding. His possessiveness is startling, but also oddly reassuring. It means he cares, that he values you more than you realized. From that moment on, you are always at his side, tending to his needs, ensuring his recovery. Grey Wind often lies nearby, his presence a constant reminder of Robb’s vigilance even when he cannot be with you.

The other men notice, their eyes following you with curiosity and a hint of envy. Robb’s attention and possessiveness are clear to all, and it changes the dynamic in the camp. No longer just a healer, you are now the woman who has captured the heart of the Young Wolf.

One day, you’re tending to a minor injury on a young soldier when Robb storms into the tent. His face is a mask of barely controlled anger. “Leave us,” he commands the soldier, who scrambles to his feet and exits hastily.

Robb strides over to you, his eyes blazing. “I told you, I don’t want you with them,” he growls, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. “You’re mine.”

You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the intensity of his emotions crashing over you like a wave. His jealousy is raw, visceral, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never seen him like this, so consumed by his need for you. Grey Wind stands at his side, his eyes fixed on you, a silent enforcer of Robb’s wishes.

“I can’t stand seeing you with them,” he admits, his voice a harsh whisper. “It tears me apart. You’re the only one who understands me, who makes me feel whole. I need you, only you.”

You reach up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. You nod, your silent promise to be by his side always. His grip on you softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Grey Wind nudges your leg gently, as if to seal the promise.

In the weeks that follow, Robb’s possessiveness only grows. He keeps you close, his eyes always on you, ensuring that no one else can claim your attention. It’s a fierce, consuming need that drives him, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you. Grey Wind is never far, his protective presence a constant reminder of the bond you share with Robb.

One night, as you sit by the fire, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “No one else’s. Remember that.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and something darker, more primal. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who would fight the world to keep you by his side. And as you look into his eyes, you know that you would do the same for him.

One afternoon, you are out gathering herbs when a group of soldiers approaches you. They’re friendly, asking for your help with minor ailments. Before you can respond, Grey Wind appears from the trees, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling from his throat. The soldiers step back, fear evident in their eyes.

You pat his head gently in warning, but the direwolf’s eyes remain fixed on the men until they retreat. When you return to camp, Robb is waiting, his eyes dark with concern and jealousy.

“Were they bothering you?” he asks, his voice tight.

You shake your head, but Robb pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I don’t want you going out alone anymore,” he says. “Grey Wind will accompany you, or I will.”

You nod, understanding the depth of his worry. His possessiveness is more than just jealousy; it’s a need to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that is anything but. You feel his love in every fierce look, every protective gesture, every time Grey Wind’s eyes follow you like a shadow.

As Robb’s recovery progresses, your bond deepens. He confides in you, shares his fears, his hopes, his dreams. You listen, your silence a balm to his troubled soul. And in those quiet moments, you realize that you’ve found something rare and precious in the midst of war.

Robb’s men see the change in their lord, the lightness in his step, the hope in his eyes. They see the way he looks at you, the way Grey Wind shadows your every move, and they understand. The Young Wolf has found his heart, and it beats for you.

One night, as you sit by the fire, Robb’s arms around you and Grey Wind at your feet, he whispers, “You’re mine, and I am yours. Always.”

You smile, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you will face it together. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who captured your heart with his honour, his kindness, and his unwavering love. And in his eyes, you see the same love reflected back at you, a bond that no war, no enemy, can ever break.

"You should rest, My King," you say softly. "Let us retire for the evening."

Your words leave him stunned for a moment. You have taken a vow of silence, yet here you are, speaking to him. The surprise in his eyes quickly melts into something deeper, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Robb nods, allowing you to help him up, your hands steadying him as he leans on you for support. Grey Wind shadows your every step, his amber eyes watching protectively.

As you guide Robb towards his tent, the camp around you starts to quiet down. The fires burn low, casting flickering shadows that dance in the night. You can feel the weight of Robb’s gaze on you, the unspoken questions simmering just beneath the surface.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You help Robb ease down onto his furs, his eyes never leaving yours. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Why now?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. “Why break your vow of silence?”

You take a deep breath, kneeling beside him. “Because I need you to understand,” you begin, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “My silence was a shield, a way to distance myself from the pain and suffering I witnessed. But with you, it’s different. I can’t remain silent any longer. Not when my heart speaks so loudly.”

Robb’s eyes soften, his hand squeezing yours gently. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying that I want to leave the Silent Sisters,” you declare, your resolve hardening. “But I will only do so if you share my commitment, if you promise that our bond is as strong as I believe it to be.”

Robb’s eyes widen, his surprise evident. He pulls you closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You would give up your vows for me?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yes. But only if you promise to be with me, to share this life with me. I cannot leave my order for uncertainty. I need your commitment, Robb.”

Robb’s expression transforms into one of determination. “I promise,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “You have my word. I will stand by you, always. You are not just my healer, but my heart. I need you by my side.”

A sense of relief washes over you, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Grey Wind huffs and trots to settle just outside the entrance to the tent, a silent sentinel watching over you both. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and belonging.

Robb cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’ve given me more than just my health,” he whispers. “You’ve given me hope, a future I didn’t dare dream of. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

Tears of relief and joy well in your eyes as you nod. “And I promise to stand by you, to support you in every way I can,” you vow, your voice filled with emotion.

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and certainty. You feel the heat of his breath, the nearness of his lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The world around you fades away until there is only Robb—his eyes, his touch, his unwavering gaze that holds you captive.

Slowly, he tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch. The sensation is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within you. His hands cup your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his emotions.

Then, without warning, the kiss deepens. His lips press against yours with a fervour that takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s pouring all his love, all his passion, into this single moment, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you pull him closer.

The kiss is searing, consuming. It feels like the world is burning around you, but all you can focus on is the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the way his body presses against yours with a desperate need. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

You're vaguely aware of his fingers at the laces of your dress, tugging impatiently at them. Soon, it seems, he loses all patience and you gasp as he violently rips at the seams of your dress, pushing it over your shoulders and hips with a growl. "On the bed."

You crawl to the middle of the bed of furs, your heart pounding with anticipation as Robb stands before you with a hungry gaze. His possessive nature has always been clear, but now it's different - now, it's thrilling and exciting.

He sheds his own layers first, causing you swallow thickly as his chest is exposed; thick thighs built for fighting but that make you think they might be good for other pleasures as well. And then he is completely bare and you feel your core clench at the sight of his cock. Thicker than it was long, with veins running all along it; the thought of running your tongue over those veins makes your mouth water.

"Gods, you're glorious." you whisper, resisting the urge to chew at your nails.

Robb's calloused hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. His touch is confident and passionate, and you can't help but feel desired under his gaze. His lips find yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervour that leaves you breathless.

As he breaks the kiss, his mouth moves to your neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues his assault on your senses. His hands slip under your shift, caressing your breasts with calloused hands. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch, wanting more.

Robb takes the hint, his fingers deftly removing your shift and freeing your body to his gaze. His mouth finds your nipples, and he sucks and nips at them, his stubble adding an extra layer of sensation. You gasp, your head falling back as he worships your body.

His hands trail down your body, fingers find your clit, and he begins to rub slow circles, making you moan and writhe beneath him. His other hand joins the first as well, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You are more than ready for him.

His head dips between your legs, and his tongue finds your clit. He licks and sucks, his fingers still inside you, curled to hit that perfect spot. You moan louder, your hips bucking as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you're about to cum, he stops. You look at him, confused, but he just smirks at you. Robb pulls himself to his knees, positioning himself between your legs. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit, making you moan loudly again. He teases you like this for a moment before slowly sliding inside you.

He fills you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Robb's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You can feel yourself getting close again, and you urge him on. "Harder, Robb, harder," you gasp. He complies, his cock slamming into you, making the bed shake.

You feel yourself on the brink, and then you're cumming, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Robb keeps thrusting, drawing out your pleasure until he finally follows you over the edge, filling you up with his cum.

He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and ragged. You wrap your arms around him, feeling closer to him than ever before. Robb's possessiveness has always been a part of him, but now, it's something else - it's a sign of his love and devotion to you.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you know that this is just the beginning of your journey together. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

[lushaletta]

the objective and persuasive / theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

summary: a tale of forbidden romance through the eyes of a lovesick theodore nott

a/n: what is this?!?! ivy actually WRITING??? unheard of! anyway.. i still do not have my ipad so my tom riddle miniseries will be on hold for a bit :( i still have more i wanna say for it! in the meantime, you may have some horrible writing in the form of my theodore nott debut! lorenzo zurzolo fine ASFFF okay bye enjoy

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Theodore Nott is very intelligent. Maybe he’s a slacker. Maybe he puts off homework until it’s being collected during class. Maybe he has a bad habit of poor time management. But what Theodore has never been is stupid.

So why is he still here, hopelessly barking up a fruitless tree?

“Please, I just want to be with you,” he’s slurring, drunk on too much whiskey and a side of love.

You cup his face in your hands, wondering how in Merlin’s name you have Slytherin’s smartest boy with his knees on your feet, fingers clinging onto yours. It’s truly senseless; for he knows the circumstance. He knows what will happen if this is taken further. He knows it cannot be.

And yet, his hands drop to your sides, running up and down as they ride up your dress. “It’s impossible, Theo,” you say, matter-of-factly. You’ve always been quite the objective.

You swear his eyes gloss over. “Bella— oh, God, I can’t. Why don’t we make this fucking real? Be my girlfriend already.”

A sigh escapes your plush lips, the smeared makeup on it looking much nicer to Theo knowing it’s he who ruined it.

“Don’t be difficult. For my sake.”

He throws his head down, grip tightening on your hips, “What about my sake? It hurts. It hurts so bad. I just need you.”

“You need sleep.”

Theodore will regret this all in the morning. He will come to his senses and remember all the reasons a relationship with you would be futile. But for now, he’s fallen at your feet, begging like only a fool would.

And it’s hard. So hard to keep your composure. To not pull him up and into your arms and avow him forever.

Your gaze darts away quickly. You’ve had your fair share of alcohol as well and your judgement is beginning to cloud. His face wouldn’t help anything.

“I am yours. I promise. If the issue is that you doubt my loyalty, you don’t have to. I’m devoted,” he drawls, searching your eyes for any sign of weakness. He finds none.

“Theodore, please, get up,” you urge, pulling on his fingers and willing him to stand— to make it all a little less painful.

He’s firm. “Not until we try and make this work. Not until you promise.”

To crumble sounds appealing. You’d rather be the pile of mush on one’s feet than the villain to resist. Your resolve is shattering, piece by piece, with every word that leaves his mouth.

“Theo, we’ve been over this.”

He tightens his grip on your hips. “I don’t fucking care what my father has to say about it! I’ll fucking kill him! I’ll do anything for you to consider me.”

Again, you pull him up, hoping he’ll stand. At first he’s resistant, and then he sees the look you’re giving him.

He’s finally upright, now towering over you and still you don’t feel any smaller. He’d give you control if you only parted your lips to say so.

You clash against him, pulling him in for a kiss he didn’t expect. He half-thought you’d turn him away but with your haphazard attempts at silencing him, he should’ve known. He’s always been quite the persuasive.

Theodore grabs your face, swishing his thumb over your cheek with adoration to rival Romeo’s with Juliet. He’s holding you as if you’re going to disappear.

You scoff at the thought, like you’d ever disappear on him. You’re in knee-deep, letting his right hand travel your back, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your stomach.

“I love you, Theo.”

And while it’s not a promise to try, the man takes what he can get.