#it makes me wonder how long each establishment like

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ SANDY BEACHES AND SINFUL BLISS.

characters: itoshi sae (bllk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! explicit, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi-public, implied masturbation, anal/double pen. (use of a toy), backshots, blindfolds, dirty talk, petnames (amor, baby, babe, love), established rs, sae takes a pic of u (lmk if there's more ..) wc ~ 2.2k

a/n: a generalized version of another secret santa entry !! i’m glad you liked my gift @lumiambrose <3

Spain's beaches are always a sight to behold, no matter the time of day.

The sun has long disappeared into the horizon, the sky now pitch black with only the night lights from the festivities a few metres away illuminating the area. The balcony you’re currently lounging on is two-storey high, the sound of joyful chatters and laughter filling your ears as a cool draught of air softly whips over the tresses of your hair.

Leaning against the railing as your eyes remain locked on the waves gently lapping up the shore, you tuck a loose strand behind your ear and reminisce about the times you’d spent in other wonderful places such as this, most of the time courtesy of your boyfriend.

Sae, the ever-so-nonchalant man that he is, rarely says it outright, but you know he loves having you around, loves having you close and within his reach, loves knowing you’re there waiting for him after each grueling day. Why else would he always have two tickets ready whenever he has an away game if not to bring you along on his trip? Why else would he book an entire beach house instead of staying at the hotel like the rest of his teammates?

Sure, the hours when he’s away for practice would feel a little lonely at times, but that’s the more reason for you to anticipate his return, for the reward he’d been saving for you at the end of the day will only grow sweeter.

Life with Sae can be gradual and relaxed, yet thrilling in the way that he would try to explore anything and everything with you, if only you’d so much as ask for it.

Life with him makes you feel… full. In more ways than one.

The sound of the door unlocking catches your attention, and the soft pitter patter of footsteps that follow only sends a rush of excitement through you. Soon enough, a pair of rough hands settle on your hips, a strong chest leaning against the span of your back.

“Have you been good, amor?” Your boyfriend whispers in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin almost in a seductive way. No ‘hi, hello, how’s your day?’ and whatnot. He gets straight to the point, as always.

That’s your man alright.

The corner of your lips curls upwards. “Hello to you too, handsome. What can I help you with today?” You cheekily ask.

The redhead scoffs, though in a lighthearted way. “You could help me with many things, love. How about we start with answering my question first, hm?” He says, causing you to playfully pout at his response, “Well, what do you think?”

Sae’s hands start to slowly move up and down on the side of your waist, warmth seeping from his touch through your clothes. A meek gesture, giving and nearly domestic in a way if not for the promise of his next words.

“If I tell you what I think, you wouldn’t be able to properly stand in the next few minutes, amor.” He murmurs, hands drifting lower beneath the shirt you’re wearing before his fingers firmly spreads your asscheeks.

A gasp is pulled out of your mouth, the buttplug you’d been keeping inside you accidentally dragging against your ribbed walls from his ministrations.

Oops, he already figured it out, hasn’t he?

You were supposed to stay good. Keep the plug nice and warm inside your hole, no touching nor masturbation whatsoever until he gets back. But how could you not?

When Sae kept sending you those godforsaken thirst traps from his gym and practice sessions? The way his sinewy muscles stretched oh so deliciously against the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt, the way his thick veiny thighs were bulging after the rigorous workout, and the freaking post-session shower?

You should’ve been considered a saint for the only thing you did was get yourself off one time the whole day with your fingers.

“Can’t blame a girl for having such wild fantasies,” you huff, feeling his fingers dipping into the heat between your thighs. With the lack of underwear on your side, Sae lowly hums when he makes contact with your slick, sounding both pleased at himself and dissatisfied with your answer.

“Well, would you look at that… you’re still dripping wet. This all from the pics I sent you?” Your eyebrows pinch together, trying to come up with a sarcastic remark as you eye the people who are walking by in the distance.

“I –“

“Fingers or tongue?” Sae cuts you off, catching you off guard. “W-wait – here?” You ask as you finally turn to look at him. His auburn hair softly blows with the night wind much like your own, and Sae tentatively reaches up to bring the thick locks over to one of your shoulders. His lidded teal eyes gauge yours with a perfectly raised eyebrow as if in challenge.

You’re not one to say no to any of his advances, of course. After all, you’re just as freaky insatiable as he is, if not more.

Seeing an answer enough from the relaxed expression on your face, Sae decides for you. “My fingers it is then.”

Almost immediately, he plunges two digits into your sopping cunt, causing you to let out a surprised squeal. Gripping hard on the railing, your body starts squirming as he straight away sets a quick pace.

“Oh shit, Sae–“ Your breath trembles with each thrust of his thick fingers, more of your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

He doesn’t let up his speed. If anything, it only seems like he’s going faster with how much louder the gushing sound of your pussy can be heard. Your back bows slightly over the railing from how hard he’s going, though you don’t stay there long before you swivel your head back again, hand fisting at the collar of his crisp white shirt to roughly pull him down into a kiss.

Your little growl mixes with his grunt as your lips and teeth clash in a fiery dance. Your legs are on the verge of trembling, and you’re so so close to coming on his magical fingers.

Your boyfriend has always enjoyed seeing you unravel before him, enjoyed seeing you come undone so quickly even when he’s not using his dick to fuck you silly. You’re so pliant, so malleable under his touch, and yet you still got that fire in you to somehow fight him back.

You’re an insufferable brat, but you’re his insufferable brat. One whose pussy that he loves making a mess of.

At this point you don’t even care about the mass of passerby who could probably see you even from that far away. They can watch for all you care. In this moment, only you and Sae and the earth-shattering orgasms he’s gracing you with exist in this world.

(Though you’re a bit glad the house he rented isn’t smacked right on the centre of the beach where lots of people will see if that was ever the case.)

“Come on, baby. Give me one before I have to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he mumbles. “Or do you need someone below to see how slutty you look right now, hm?” His other hand moves to the buttplug, slowly pushing it deeper inside your ass.

If it wasn’t in your stomach already, then it certainly is now.

You don’t bother giving him an answer because soon enough, you’re coming all over his hand with a whiny moan, your slick running down his wrist like rich honey.

Sae pulls his fingers out with a few last taps on your sticky clit, casually sucking and licking your cum off the digits before planting a kiss on the side of your head. “Good girl.”

True to his words, your legs feel like jelly from how hard he was going as you lean all your weight back against his body for support. Taking note of this, Sae spins you around before lifting you into his arms, walking you both to the bedroom just adjacent to the balcony.

All the while he’s carrying you inside, you mouth at the exposed skin of his neck, occasionally sucking and biting until the fair canvas turns raw and red from your teeth. He can reprimand (or punish) you later for giving him such visible hickeys where other people might notice. For now, you decide it’s best to indulge yourself first.

Sae sets you down onto the bed before he reaches down to pull his shirt over his head, helping you get your clothes off as well right after. “Turn around, amor. Let me see,” he instructs.

You know exactly what he means, and with a teasing smile thrown his way, you maneuver yourself to settle on your elbows and knees.

Your inner thighs are still coated with a light sheen of your arousal, wet and shiny under the dim light of the room. Using both his thumbs to soil the wetness further on your skin so near to your core, he takes in the way your cunt clenches around nothing as the plug sits cutely in your other hole. Without waiting any second longer, Sae unbuckles his belt to push his pants and boxers off, pumping himself a few times before guiding the tip against your tight entrance.

Your immense slick makes it so much easier for him to slide home, so warm and wet and tight around his cock. He lets out a low groan as your walls envelope him as easily as a sleeve, your pleased moan singing in his ears like a dirty melody.

Very much filled to the brim, both of your holes are so stretched out until there are tears clinging to your lashes.

“Fuck, stay right there, baby.” He bites down on his lips, hips stilling after bottoming out before reaching over to the nightstand, the movement causing his blunt head to involuntarily nudge against your cervix. Sae curses just as you keen at the contact, his hand grabbing the tie he’d left haphazardly after leaving the press event yesterday.

Breath hitching at the sight of the fabric in his hand, you let out a breathless chuckle as your cheek presses on the bed. “You wanna tie me up, babe?” You drawl teasingly, already half-drunk from the feeling of his cock filling you up.

A hint of a smirk appears on the midfielder’s lips. “In a way,” he replies. You’re about to ask what he means by that when he leans towards you, pulling the tie over your eyes instead, hiding away the green hues he adores so much. “Oh,”

The grin on his face grows wider now that your sense of sight has been stripped away as he neatly knots the tie behind your head. “Yeah, oh.”

“Now hold on tight, would you?” That’s all the warning you get before he begins pistoning his hips against yours in a fervor, eliciting a choked moan out of your parted lips.

“O-oh, god - fuck!” The pleasure is intensified, zaps of electricity creeping up the back of your spine and piling over tenfold as the lack of vision only makes everything feels more sensitive and raw, amplified. “That’s it. Take my cock, amor.” His cock continues to drill into you, your cries and whimpers of his name and his deep grunts bouncing off the walls of the room.

Ass jiggling in that short skirt of yours and drenched pussy lips stretching around his girth every time he plunges in, Sae has never seen such a staggeringly addicting sight in all his life.

He makes good use of the buttplug by shallowly moving it in and out, the dual stimulation making you bury your face into the comforter as you muffle your scream.

He can feel you clamping down on him, squeezing him so tightly that he swears he could see stars behind his lids. With both of you now close to reaching that peak, his pace only increases albeit becoming a little sloppier.

A few bruising thrusts later and you’re sent over the edge, your climax coursing over you like a tidal wave. Your pleasured cries become the final push that Sae needed before he quickly pulls out, roughly stroking himself using your cum until his own shoots out in thick ropes of white onto the globes of your ass.

He groans, a low throaty sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest as he stares at the mess he left on your skin. Grabbing his phone that had dropped onto the bed sometime prior, he takes a quick snap before reaching over to slip the blindfold off.

Your eyes blink at the sudden brightness, thighs shaking and body spent as your top half remains laid on the bed. “Sae…? Did you just take a picture?” You ask out of curiosity from the brief sound you’d heard.

He gently pulls out the plug, rubbing at the sore skin when you let out a little yelp before he wipes his cum off your ass, smearing them right on your pussy instead. He then gives you a non-committal hum, “Yes. Now lay down properly. I’m not finished.”

Much to both of your delight, he’s not even close to being done with you. Hasn’t scratched the surface of what he had planned for you, even. Not now, not anytime soon.

Oh, you’re in for a long night ahead.

character development but it's just rye writing (lots of and more detailed) smut

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[marimayscarlett]

Hi I’m back back, back again! With more questions!

The fandom calls Paul and Richard guitars husbands right? But to help a relationship status to married you have to gradually progress through the stages of like: pining, mutual pining, dating, boyfriends and then finally married.

I was wondering what pictures or gifs/videos represent those stages for our dearest guitarists?

If I forgot one feel free to add one or remove one if it doesn’t have any fitting content! 😌 🖤

Hello dear, and thank you for your ask! 😊

I have to admit, though, I found this ask a bit tricky to answer at first. I kept going back and forth, trying to establish a clear timeline for Paul and Richard’s, let’s call it loosely, “relationship.” In some ways, that’s possible. At the start of the band’s history, we have a popular example of looks exchanged that could definitely be interpreted as “pining” or “longing”:

(GIFs by @ukulelette)

Later on, there were repeated moments on stage where they looked for closeness or looked out for each other:

Nowadays, there are wonderful moments on stage filled with cheekiness, emotions, joy, and surely also some kind of love between two people who’ve worked together for 30 years, experienced so many life situations together, endured a lot in the band's life and in general..:

(first gif by @sechsherzen)

And yet... the story between Paul and Richard always seems incredibly dynamic to me. They started out as young musicians who discovered a lot of common ground in their musical visions (I think I recall Richard saying something along the lines of ���he completes me”). At the same time, they were also musical rivals in some ways, given they played the same instrument. Two people with strong opinions and firm points of views in things, who sometimes wouldn’t accept any other viewpoint but their own. They are so similar, yet have their struggles, especially to see that they're so similar it seems.

But they always manage to come back together, no matter how difficult working together might be - even going as far as seeking help for their communication (Olsen Involtini apparently played a big role in ensuring that harmony was quickly restored, as mentioned here). They maybe do it simply because they see the bigger picture. They see that enduring personal differences is worth it for the good of the band. They share the same drive to make things happen and, over the years, have learned to listen to one another and give each other space to express themselves.

If we indulge in the “Paulchard” fantasy, we can find moments of connection (body contact or just looking out for each other) at various points in the band’s history. It’s difficult for me to identify a clear chronology here - whether it’s the 90s, the challenging Mutter era, or the MiG tour...:

Of course, their warmth towards each other has exponentially increased in recent years! Longing, hugs, kisses, comforting each other, or just being there for one another.... And sometimes really taking their time with each other during these interactions, like in Frankfurt for the plane watching 🥹.

It feels like they can express these things more freely now, in their more mature years, after all their shared experiences - or at least it appears that way. And for that, I’m very happy.

(first gif by @mrsfitzgerald)

So, yes. Paulchard interactions are varied, dynamic, and ever-changing, just as most likely a relationship between people is. 🤍

And for people who like to see the Paulchard wedding with their own two eyes, there's always lovely edits 😄

(some more picture sources: x x)

[glambots]

(@ tags in christmas ask) honestly imagining we're fazbear employees i sure bet we're poor there's no way those guys pay more than they're legally required to (and probably find any tiny reason to pay us less each week)

The pay is bad, the hours are worse.

[moonheecore]

Oops, Juno? — sjy (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), fluff, slight angst, college AU, established relationship

Warnings: Soft Dom! Jake, protected & unprotected sex, baby daddy Jake, condom tempering (not by Jake), toxic mother trope, abortion mentioned, frat parties, multiple orgasm, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, slight lactation kink, cream pie, squirting, body worship, body changes during pregnancy mentioned, slight degradation but mostly praising, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else. 

Summary: Getting accidentally pregnant was the last thing you ever imagined. You were still in school, with so many plans for the future ahead of you. Yet, you felt certain that keeping the baby was the decision you wanted to make. What would your aloof mother think? and, perhaps most importantly, you wonder if Jake would feel the same way?

a/n: obviously, this fic was inspired by Sabrina’s song but my friend recently showed me this cute movie called Look Both Ways, which I took heavy inspiration from as well. So enjoy baby daddy Jake! Please reblog and leave comments— not just likes!

Main masterlist

Word count: 16k

The bass of the music from downstairs were only a faint echo in your mind, the party a mere distraction compare to what you and your boyfriend were about to do in the frat house's microscopic bathroom.

Everything in your spatial consciousness was spinning in the best way possible. You were in that sweet spot of being drunk from the shots of tequila, yet sober enough to feel the highs of Jake’s lips pressing messily against yours.

He had your back arched against the sink, his body pressed so close to yours that you couldn’t help but melt under his overpowering presence. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his sinful tongue slipped past your parted lips, the deep kiss becoming desperate and full of lust.

The warmth of his mouth and the taste of him, mixed with the bitter spirits, sent your heart racing. His large hands soon glided along the underside of your thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt to grope the soft flesh of your ass. You tug at the soft strands of his hair tangled between your fingers, leaving his freshly permed curls disheveled.

"Fuck, miss you so much." He moaned, plump lips not even taking a second's break from sucking on your saliva coated lips. "How the hell did I survive without having my dick in you for so long.”

You giggled at his cuteness, pulling back slightly to give him a peck on the nose. “It’s only been one week, Jake, not forever.”

“Feels like forever,” He whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. You let out a soft sigh as he started kissing your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy nibbles and licks that were sure to turn into prominent hickeys by the next day.

"But you know what I look forward to?" he sighed, mouthing at your delicate pulse as you crumbled with every lingering suck he left on your skin. You let out a soft hum, signaling you were listening, but were caught off guard when he suddenly hooked his arms under your knees and lifted you to sit on the slightly damp sink.

The new position allowed your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands threading around his neck as your fingers tangled in the soft hair at his nape. He was perfectly slotted between your thighs, giving him the freedom to shamelessly roll his hips into your core. Your eyes fluttered closed, and soft, whiny moans escaped you as you felt his hard on rubbing against your dripping center.

Jake looked at you, eyes hooded with lust, pupils blown out wide, and that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Feeling just how tight your little pussy will be around my cock.”

Just the sound of his sultry accent was enough to make you moan with desire, your lips crashing back into his in a clumsy, heated embrace. The two of you exchanged thick globs of saliva, noses brushing as you breathed each other’s air like it was oxygen. Your skirt rode up as he flipped it to reach the hem of your lace panties, tugging at the fabric haphazardly until they slid down to your knees, exposing your dripping core. Meanwhile, you hurriedly worked to unbuckle his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles.

“Jake,” You gasped, pulling away to catch your breath, your lips bruised and swollen. “Just fuck me right now— I can’t wait any longer.”

“No prep?" Jake rested his forehead against yours, a slight hint of worry flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?" As much as he wanted to feel your walls engulf him with as little space as possible, the thought of hurting you gnawed at him, despite how horny and drunk he was.

“Jakey, please, need you to fuck me hard until I’m loose.”

You gave him that needy look— the one with that wild, almost unhinged glint in your eyes that he knew all too well. It was the same look that reminded him why he wanted to fuck you forever, burying himself inside you and staying there until the world fell apart. The heat of your words drew a deep, guttural growl from him, a sound filled with raw need, frustration, and the kind of bliss only you could give him.

"Condom, inside my chest pocket, now."

You didn’t hesitate as you reached for a condom from his jacket. Jake’s husky voice casting a spell that sent heat straight to your core, thickening the air with anticipation and arousal. The sharp sound of the plastic tearing open sent a thrill through your body, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Jake was just as eager, stroking his hard, leaking cock in preparation as you carefully rolled the condom down his length.

"Fuck, you're dripping, baby" Jake gripped your hips firmly, his other hand guiding the base of his cock as he teasingly circled the tip against your gaping hole. A gush of arousal soaked your folds, running down your inner thighs, and Jake had to bite his lip at how beautifully drenched you looked. "So fucking wet for me."

You let out a sharp gasp as he pressed his swollen head past your entrance, followed by a loud moan when he buried his entire cock inside you in one swift motion, not giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to steady yourself. Your walls burned from the tight stretch, stinging with the fullness of his girth. Yet, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, the mix of pain and pleasure surging through your veins.

Jake began to pace himself once he bottomed out fully inside you, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider to give himself more room to thrust in and out with ease.

“Pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, wincing at the vice-like grip your gummy walls had on him. Jake was losing his mind at how your dripping cunt fought to keep him inside, gripping him so hard he could barely move. Yet, the friction created as he forced himself out and slammed back in felt deliciously sublime, prompting him to increase the speed of his hips as he chased every bit of pleasure like a madman.

“Gonna make you remember the shape of my cock, right, baby?” he asked, letting out a soft measured laugh at your fucked-out expression.

The space between your eyebrows scrunched up each time his fat tip hit the deepest parts of your insides, and the back of your head repeatedly thudded against the mirror with the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t help but let out a strangled sound as his cock filled you completely with overwhelming pleasure. The drag of his delicious veins against your tender walls made your tongue slip out, caught in a haze of ecstasy that intensified the throbbing pressure in your stomach.

“Shit, you’re so cute when you can’t think straight, doll,” He cooed, sinking precisely into your sensitive cervix for what felt like the millionth time that night, just to hear how wet you were. The loud squelching of your juices echoed through the bathroom, and you were certain Jake was reveling in the wet, messy heat of it all.

"So fucking sexy like this." His fingernails dug into the plush of your thighs, holding you still as he pounded into you. Jake pressed a kiss by your ear, groaning, his voice a husky whisper as his thumb sneaked between your bodies to rub your aching clit. "Makes me wanna ruin you 'til you can't close your legs like a slut."

His reckless touch on your swollen pearl sent jolts of pleasure through you, your body trembling as the impending release built up inside you. Your stomach tightened, a surge of ecstasy rising so intensely it felt like you were on the verge of exploding, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel him in your lungs—

"J-Jake!" His name spilled from your lips, trembling and edged with agony from the overwhelming pleasure. "I'm so close, fuck, I—I’m gonna cum."

"I know, baby," Jake gritted out, teeth clenched as your walls squeezed and throbbed around him erratically. He knew you were close, especially with the way your hands tugged at his damp hair and your head shook vigorously as he continued to tease your clit with expert precision.

"Come for me, that’s it, beautiful—"

You felt the familiar blinding lights taking over your vision as you came undone on his cock within seconds. Jake didn’t stop bucking his hips while your body slumped heavily against the sink before finally stilling with one last hard thrust. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips uttered curses aloud as it became increasingly wet, sloppy, and messy between your legs. There was so little room between your bodies that his balls were practically suction-cupping themselves to your ass, filling the condom with his creamy release.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily into the small space between you. Your mouths hovered just an inch apart, breathing hard from the intensity, while the air around you thickened, heavy with the humid scent of sex and sweat.

As the fog in your mind started to clear and your heartbeat slowed enough for you to catch your breath, Jake pulled his cock out of you, rolling off the used condom and tying it before tossing it aside. But your gaze lingered on him— his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lingering arousal, and his wet cock still hard against his abdomen.

"Fucking hell," Jake cursed, desperation thick in his voice as he cupped your jaw, his eyes pleading for your attention. His other hand brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. "I need to fuck you again, baby, please. I'm so fucking horny for you." There was pain hinted at the edge of his tongue, his pleading gaze ignited something primal within you. You were both exhausted, yet the sheer need in his eyes made it impossible to resist.

Ignoring the tremor in your legs, you let Jake manhandle you, spinning you around and bending you over the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection, your hair and makeup in disarray, while Jake hastily put on another condom. It was the first time he had ever asked for a second round, and the sheer need in your body triggered a craving to feel his cock stretching you again, yearning to experience every inch of him filling you up once more.

He bunched your skirt up, rocking his head against your entrance before pushing his entire cock inside you with little resistance. You relaxed your walls to welcome him wholeheartedly, and both of you let out satisfying moans in unison. Jake didn’t miss a beat, immediately thrusting at an ungodly pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough for you to feel the sting of his hold. You felt a slight pinch of pain from his roughness, yet it only added to the pleasure that began to build, to the point where you started to lose track of where you began and he ended.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jake swore he was fucking in love with the way you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, watching your jiggling ass bounce with every collision of flesh against his abdomen. “Could fuck this pretty pussy every second, and I still wouldn’t get enough of it.”

You choked back your tears and saliva as Jake tangled his fingers in your hair, roughly pulling you back and forcing your spine to arch. The new angle allowed him to strike your cervix relentlessly, making you scream in pleasure, loud enough that the entire party probably knew you were having sex at this point. You glanced at his reflection, his head thrown back as he moaned and hissed every time you squeezed your walls around his sensitive length deliciously.

The pressure in your stomach teetered on the edge, your clit throbbing madly as Jake split you open relentlessly, leaving you feeling like a ragdoll, surrendering to his every desire. The stimulation was so intense that you could taste your second release on the tip of your tongue. But this one was different from the first— far more intense. It struck you that you were on the brink of squirting from sheer overstimulation.

"C-Can't take it anymore—" you gasp, desperately clawing at the smooth surface of the sink for leverage. "Need you to fill me up and make me full.”

That was all it took for your boyfriend to feel outmatched, pushing him over the edge and making him fully commit to ravishing you to your core. Like a switch flipping, Jake shifted, bending one of your legs onto the counter as he planted his foot firmly on the tiled floor, mounting your lower half and stretching your pussy mercilessly. The force had your chest pressed flat against the surface as you gasped for air.

“Gotta fill you up, little slut,” he taunted right in your ear, but his voice faltered as he neared his own high, using his words to push both of you closer to the edge. “I’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you, baby, you won’t even be able to squeeze all of me out.”

Jake smirk haughtily as all you could do was to reach back and pull his thighs closer as he fucked you like his personal flashlight.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Love it when a part of me's swimming inside you.” At this moment, Jake was practically spouting dirty thoughts off the top of his head, biting his lip to suppress an almost whiny moan, holding on to his high just a little longer to let you drown in yours first.

Your response was reduced to fucked-out babbling, making Jake almost chuckle at how ethereal you looked breaking apart because of his cock. In the back of your foggy mind, you wished the barrier of the latex condom would disappear, imagining how raw and textured he’d feel stroking every inch of your walls.

Just the thought of that sent you spiraling over the edge, the once heated sensation bursting like millions of butterflies in your stomach as waves of pleasure constricted your throat. Jake looked down to see your sweet juices pouring between your legs, drenching his thighs and the floor below as you hit your second orgasm in complete bliss.

Burying his face in your hair, Jake’s frame lurched greedily, releasing himself right after you. He choked out groans after groans, emptying ropes of hot cum into the condom. It didn’t take long for him to finish, relishing the solace of the afterglow, yet he stayed wrapped around you from behind, shielding you before you could collapse in exhaustion.

"Good job, sweetheart. Just like that, I've got you, baby girl."

Jake could say the filthiest and meanness things during sex, but moments like this made you appreciate the beautiful juxtaposition of it all— a perfect balance of wild and soft.

"You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of my pretty girl. Always so good for me."

He kissed the side your forehead, showering you with honey-coated compliments as you rested your head in your hands in complete surrender, softly sobbing at how wrecked you felt after such intense pleasure. Everything felt perfect and warm as he let you catch your breath and calm your nerves, his hands gently squeezing your thighs for comfort. Before long, the party's music filtered back into the room, and the muffled sounds of others laughing drunkenly passed through the hallway behind the closed door, signaling that you both were beginning to regain your bearings and clean up the mess you’ve made.

“What are you smiling at?” you shot him a side-eye from the mirror as you fixed your mascara, catching Jake leaning against the sink, arms crossed, watching you with complete bliss and biting his lip to hold back a grin. You both knew it would be tough to rejoin your friends without looking like you’d just had mind-blowing sex. Then again, your social circle was all too familiar with you and Jake disappearing suddenly—it was no secret what the two of you had been up to.

“Jake, seriously, you’re starting to creep me out,” you added, eyeing him suspiciously as his grin widened.

"Hmm, I don't know," Jake mused, sighing contentedly as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, resting the bridge of his nose on your shoulder to bask in your scent. The soft light illuminated his face, making his eyes glimmer like you were the center of his world. "I think I need to make you squirt more often, because that was so fucking hot."

You let out a scoff. “Yeah, maybe its because you won’t stop running your mouth about your freaky breeding kink on me,” You teased, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“C'mere, baby, let me put a baby in you.” Jake leaned in with a mock pout, pulling you closer into his side. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he lowered his voice to an exaggerated sultry whisper.

"Eww, Jake, stop it!" You shoved his face, feigning annoyance but laughing at how ridiculous he was.

The genuine laughter you shared made the moment feel pure and carefree, a blissful innocence that you cherished with Jake. It was almost naive, as if you were both untouched by the weight of the world. Looking back, those playful words were more than just a joke— they were a subtle hint of the storm brewing, the harsh reality that fate had quietly set in motion.

You felt like your whole world was turning upside down, and it wasn’t just figuratively— it was literal. The familiar burn of nausea crept up your throat, your stomach twisting as the astringent taste started to rise up to your esophagus, making everything spin.

Two red lines stared back at you, the cause of it all. The first test brought denial, the second was to make sure, and the third was acceptance— gripped by absolute shock as the reality set in.

You were definitely pregnant.

This had to be a bad dream, right? So why weren’t you waking up from this nightmare that was becoming your reality? You sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, tears blurring your vision as your blood ran cold, leaving you physically trembling. Just as you were on the verge of spiraling, teetering on the edge of losing it, you summoned the last bit of strength you had left and reached for your phone to call your best friend.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Lena stammered at the other line of the call, obviously shocked by the sudden news. “I mean, it could be a faulty test, right? It happens all the time. Maybe you just took it too early, or—” She trailed off, grasping for any reason to make sense of situation.

“I took three tests, Lena. All of them were positive. I've been throwing up all day,” You cut her off, managing to say the words with surprising calmness. “…and I didn’t get my period last month.”

That last sentence dropped like a bombshell in the conversation, heavy and palpable. You found yourself staring at the tiles on the floor, feeling your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

"My mom's gonna kill me," You confessed, sniffling as tears pooled down your cheeks.

"Then she'll have to walk over my dead body to get to you,"

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your eyes as your best friend's fierce protectiveness washed over you like a safety net.

Since sophomore year, she had been your unwavering rock, and sharing a room had forged an unbreakable bond between you two. You had witnessed each other’s tears, shared countless laughter-filled nights, and navigated through the chaos of sleepless mornings. In that moment, you realized how deep your connection truly ran, and how you would always stand by each other— no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"You're at your mom's for the weekend, right?" Lena asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did she say anything?"

You shook your head, wiping away the streaks of tears. "No, she's out with her friends. I told her I had a stomach bug, so she just left me alone." The lie tasted bitter, but you couldn't bring yourself to face the truth with her yet.

You'd never had a great relationship with your mother.

Since childhood, her overbearing nature always overshadowed any sense of nurture. To outsiders, she might have seemed strict, but to you, she was much more than that. Your relationship felt like a façade— one-sided and suffocating. She controlled every detail of your life: the school you attended, the friends you made, the choices you had— all under the guise of it being for your own good.

It was isolating, exhausting, but how could you have known any different?

That was the only kind of 'love' you'd ever experienced from her.

As a woman, you understood her fear— that she didn’t want you to end up like her, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. But as a daughter, you felt lost, torn between resentment and attachment. Despite everything, a part of you still craved her approval, even after all these years, no matter how insecure she made you feel.

The memories came crashing down all at once, drowning your mind with an intensity that you couldn’t ignore. Layer by layer, the real emotion beneath it all surfaced, raw and exposed, stripping away every defense you’d built.

"Lena," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile plea that echoed through the cold, empty bathroom of your mother’s house.

"I'm so fucking scared."

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, realizing you might have overburdened Lena with such heavy responsibility. Then came the small sniffles, and your heart ached for her. Lena had always been the strong one between the two of you— the sensible one who didn’t let emotions or opinions sway her. But when it came to you, she never hesitated to show her vulnerability.

"Y/N, I'm here for you," Lena's voice was steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "If the odds are against you every step of the way, just know I'll always be there. You're stronger than you think, whether you believe it or not. We'll get through this, okay? Believe it."

The fear slowly dissipated from your body. It was still there, lingering in the background, but the relief of having an anchor, someone to hold you steady, eased some of the weight. It didn’t mean everything would be fine, but at least you weren’t facing it alone.

“Are you planning to tell Jake about the pregnancy?"

You leaned back, feeling the weight of yet another hurdle coming your way.

Oddly enough, you weren’t as stressed about telling Jake as you thought you would be. You knew, without a doubt, the baby was his. It had always been him, from the very beginning until now. No matter the circumstances, you both always used protection, and it made the situation feel unfair, frustrating even, that this was happening despite being so careful.

"I'll have to tell him, won't I?" You bit the inside of your cheek, fingers raking through your hair as the weight of the decision settled in. From the other end, you heard Lena hum softly, offering silent support. "It makes me feel guilty, keeping it from him," you continued, your voice softer now. "He deserves to know too."

"If that's your decision, Y/N, then I'm all for it," Lena's voice was like a lifeline, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a small sense of relief.

"We’ll talk more when you're back. For now, rest up and eat something, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly. "Thank you, Lena. I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

As the call ended, silence filled the bathroom, the weight of everything crashing back down. You stood up slowly, shoving the pregnancy test into your pocket before heading to the sink. The cold water felt like a shock to your system as you splashed it on your face, trying to freshen up, trying to calm the storm inside. Your mom would be home any minute, and you needed to pull yourself together before you faced her.

But as you glanced at the mirror, you froze. Taking a step back, you caught your full reflection. Your hand instinctively drifted to your stomach, resting there, your eyes fixated on that part of your body as if it held something fragile, something precious.

Without hesitation, you had already made up your mind.

The decision was clear, solidified in your heart. Now, it was only a matter of telling the people around you— facing them head-on, no matter the reactions, no matter the consequences thrown at you. You knew what you wanted, and nothing could change that. The hardest part was yet to come, but you were ready. Or at least, you had to be, for the sake of the baby.

You and Lena stood on the front porch of the frat house, the thumping bass of the music vibrating through the ground, colorful lights flashing from the windows. A group of guys passed by, carrying crates of booze, laughing and shoving each other as they rushed inside. This was just another typical Friday night, the same parties you'd been to countless times before.

But this time, it was different.

What once felt thrilling now felt heavy. It had only been three days since you found out you were pregnant, and now it was finally time to tell Jake the truth. Breaking the news during a party wasn’t ideal, but with exam season looming just a few weeks away, he had been buried in his studies and packed schedules. Before you left to visit your mother, you had promised him you would meet him at the party his frat brothers were hosting. You wanted to tell him sooner rather than later, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you.

“Ready?” Lena asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, even though your mind was far from prepared. Still, your body moved forward, stepping into the house with a single intention in mind.

As always, the frat party was a chaotic mess— a dumpster fire than anything resembling fun.

People spilled out into the backyard, filling every corner with shouts of excitement and laughter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled beer, and a faint haze of smoke. You maneuvered through clusters of people, dodging arms flailing from overenthusiastic dancers, while a group of guys at the far end chanted loudly, egging on someone attempting to chug down a towering concoction that was far too much for any person to handle.

Lena had already left to meet your other flat mates, Ningning, who were somewhere in the mayhem as well. She had insisted on staying with you, but you reassured her that you needed to do this on your own. She gave you an encouraging smile, though it was strained with concern, mouthing “good luck” before vanishing into the crowd.

You scanned the room quickly, eyes darting in hopes of catching a glimpse of your boyfriend in the crowd, but he was nowhere in sight. Giving up, you headed towards the dim hallway leading to the back rooms, where you spotted Sunghoon and Jay leaning casually against the wall, deep in conversation with red cups in hand. Their eyes lit up when they saw you approaching.

You shoot them a small smile. “Hey guys, have you seen Jake in this mess?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest to feign offense. “I’m gonna ignore how rude that sounded, 'cause you’re looking at the mastermind of it all,” he joked, causing you to laugh when you saw Sunghoon rolling his eyes at his friend.

“He went to grab more drinks for the beer pong game later,” Sunghoon chimed in, loud enough over the music, nodding toward the kitchen. “You might find him there.”

You thanked them and made your way toward the kitchen, grateful for the chance to escape the chaos of the main party. The noise dulled slightly as you reached the quieter part of the house, the kitchen door slightly ajar. Fewer people lingered here, just a couple of others milling around, chatting quietly. It was a breather from the overwhelming energy outside— an oasis of calm amidst the havoc.

You spotted your boyfriend's figure from afar, wearing the familiar denim jacket he always lent you over one of his hoodies— the same ones you were sure you'd 'stolen' and given back a dozen times. He was crouched down by the huge fridge, hauling out what you assumed to be chilled alcohol for the game later. You carefully approached him from behind.

“I swear to God, if you're here to yap at me for being slow—”

“I thought you liked it when I yap and you listen,” You mused, snickering as he let out a surprised “What the fuck!” and almost hit his head on the top of the fridge.

He stood up with a playful grin once he recognizes your voice, the corners of his smile stretching so wide that his cheekbones popped out. His eyes glinted under the dim kitchen light before he swooped you off your feet, wrapping you in a tight hug.

You never knew how much you needed his embrace until you felt it.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh laundry and the warmth of summer sunlight. His hands held your almost fragile frame gently— one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other ran softly through your hair. The tenderness, laced with a sense of quiet possessiveness, made you melt instantly. His laughter rang like music in your ears, almost pulling you out of the moment, reminding you that soon you’d have to tell him you were pregnant. The thought made you cling to him tighter before he could pull away and break the hug.

"Sorry, I thought you were Jay just now," he apologies with a chuckle, closing the fridge door.

You pulled back, “Jay? Wow, I knew I was second place, but didn’t think I’d lose out to him.”

“Please, don’t.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s been at my ass all day, and I don’t want him ruining our time tonight, yeah?” Leaning down, he pressed a loving peck to your lips, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You hummed softly in response, a smile creeping onto your face, but inside, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you. You were about to drop a bombshell that could change everything, and the thought made your heart race. “I get it. Just focus on having fun tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of your secret.

Jake took a deep breath, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “I actually have some good news to tell you,” he said, glancing at you with a wide grin that made your heart flutter.

Your curiosity piqued, and you leaned in closer. “What is it?”

He couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I got a call from the aerospace company that I applied to as my first choice for my internship, and…” He paused, glancing up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he bit his lower lip.

“I got in.”

Your heart drop to the floor, a mix of apprehension profuse the joy swirling within you.

Fuck, you were so incredibly happy for him. You had witnessed him at his hardest, and you understood just how much this fruit of his labor meant to Jake. As a literature student who could barely remember where the calculator app was on your phone, you felt worlds apart from his major. Yet, you knew how tirelessly he had worked, calling you late at night to share his worries and pour out his hopes and dreams. This was the only reputable company that could offer him a decent wage in exchange for experience and rapport in the future.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him.

You stared at him, unsure how to react appropriately with your current mindset, your heart aching with a sunken, bitter feeling. The light in his eyes shone like beacons as he waited for your response, expecting you to share in his joy and rapture over the achievement, totally oblivious to your internal struggles. But as you opened your mouth and then closed it again, words eluded you, and heavy breaths made the air feel suffocating.

You have to tell him, you have to tell him now.

“Hey, love, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything okay?” Jake sensed something was wrong immediately, reaching out to squeeze your shoulders as he studied your expression. Concern furrowed his brow, and his voice softened.

You have to, you have to tell him, the nagging voice in the back of your mind insisted, drowning out Jake's worried tone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing the weight of the secret you were holding.

“J-Jake,” You breathed out, forcing yourself to calm down as you swallowed hard the tears down. He looked back at you, his gaze so delicate and tender that it eased some of the tension in your body. This was it. You were finally going to tell him.

“Jake, I’m—”

Your phone rang, interrupting the moment and pulling you back to a nervous wreck. The incoming call distracted you just enough to pause, and you fished your phone out of your pocket, hoping to silence it quickly. But when you saw the caller ID, your heart sank. It was your mother— the last person you wanted to hear from right now.

You glanced up at Jake, who was still watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and you hesitated. Should you answer it? Your mother always had a knack for timing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face whatever she might say. But your gut told you to answer before an even bigger storm might brew. Taking a deep breath, you swiped to answer, turning slightly away from Jake to create some privacy.

“Hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your hand gripping the phone a little too tight.

There was a brief pause on the other end, then your mother’s familiar voice broke through, laced with tension. “Come home this instant,” she said, her voice tight, barely masking a simmering anger.

You felt Jake’s eyes still on you, his concern deepening as you tried to keep calm. Your heart started to race.

“Mom, can it wait? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“No, it can’t,” she cut you off sharply, her voice dropping to a low that was too calm for the norm that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“I found the pregnancy test box, Y/N. You come home right now.”

The line went dead. The call had ended— but you felt like your heart had stopped, too.

Everything around you faded, and the weight of her words hit like a punch in the gut. It felt as though the skies were collapsing, the floor beneath you quaking, and a massive tsunami was about to engulf you, drag you under until you were drowning in its depths. Your mind screamed, but it was muffled, like you were submerged underwater, gasping for air. The panic consumed you, threatening to pull you under until Jake’s hands grabbed you, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N?” His voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to your feet. He held you tightly, eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?"

The concern etched into his face only made it harder to breathe, and you realized that everything— the secret, your mother's words, and now his worry— was closing in around you.

“I-I have to g-go,” you stammered, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them. Jake’s confused expression only mirrored the chaos inside you, his brow furrowing in concern as he watched you struggle. The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to you, slipping from your lips without your permission.

“I-I’m sorry, Jake, I—” you said quickly, your words rushing together as the urge to flee surged inside you. “My mom— she needs me. I-I have to go. I-I’ll explain later, I promise, I swear I will, but I just can’t do it right now."

There was a heavy silence between you, thick and suffocating. In your panic, it felt like an invisible chasm had opened between the two of you, a space you couldn’t cross. Jake just stared at you, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand the storm raging inside. You could see it clearly: he wanted to reach out, to help, to ask what was wrong.

But he knew. He knew that pushing you right now would only make it worse. If he asked you what was wrong, it would shut you down completely, triggering an even deeper spiral of panic. It would be like setting off a chain reaction, a cascade that neither of you could control. So, in that brief, agonizing moment, Jake made the choice— the most rational one he could. He stepped back emotionally, even if he wanted to do the opposite, because he trusted you enough to do it.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, though you could see the tension in the way he closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, they were full of quiet understanding. "Okay, alright," he repeated, nodding slowly.

“Do you need me to drive you there?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your shaky breath. “It’s okay,” you murmured, “Lena can drive me there.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening slightly, though the uncertainty still lingered. In that moment, you realized you’d let something slip— Lena knew something he didn’t. You could see it register in his eyes, that small detail, and though he didn’t ask, it seemed to give him a bit of solace.

“Okay, then I’ll see you later?” Jake’s voice was gentle, no malice, no pressure— just pure reassurance. You nodded quickly, already turning to find Lena, but something pulled you back. Before you knew it, you were taking a few steps back to him.

Without warning, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. It was sudden, impulsive, but necessary. Jake responded immediately, his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips, pulling you closer as if you were meant to fit together like this. The familiar spark ignited in your stomach— the same fireworks that always went off when you kissed him like this. But you knew this wasn’t the time to get lost in it, not when the weight of everything was still hanging between you. As much as you craved the comfort of this moment, you couldn’t let it deceive you into thinking everything was okay, not yet.

You broke the kiss, your heart heavy. Without looking back at Jake, afraid of the emotion in his eyes that might unravel you, you turned away and walked toward the uncertainty awaiting you.

You told Lena to wait in the car as you made your way toward the front door of your childhood home.

The house had aged intricately over the years, like an old photograph fading with time. The paint had faded, the pipes were rusted, and there were dents and scratches on the concrete frame despite the darkness of the night. You could almost see your younger self playing in the soil of the front yard, learning to ride your bicycle along the pavement, and spending whole days looking out the front door window, watching your neighbors across the street— the mother and daughter holding hands, heading off to the movies or the park.

You couldn’t remember the last time you held your mother’s hand.

The living room was eerily calm, the chill in the air contrasting with the faint glow from the dining room where the kitchen was. Under the chandelier's soft light, your mother sat at the end of the table, a mug of tea beside three pregnancy test boxes she’d found in the bathroom trash. The sight made your chest tighten. You didn’t dare step fully into the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. Crossing your arms, you tried to keep your trembling fingers at bay, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you.

“What was the result?” She asked, her voice aloof and measured. Your mother didn’t look up at you at first, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze fixed on the table.

“Mom, I can explain—”

“What was the result, Y/N?” She looked up at you, and the sight took you aback. She looked exactly the same as she did when you were younger— emotionless and disappointed. Every day brought the same look, and to be truthful, you were getting sick of it.

You let out a deep exhale, the ticking of the clock on the wall booming in the silence like a bomb.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was nothing— just the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You knew she already knew the answer to the question, but saying it out loud, was what made her explode.

“Why would you do this? Why would you ruin our lives?” Her voice broke through the stillness, sharp and furious. You closed your eyes when she finally screamed at you, when she finally snapped. A part of you almost welcomed the outburst— it was better than the cold, emotionless calm. At least now she was showing something, even if it was anger you never wanted to face.

“I gave you everything— an education, food, clothes, a home. What more could you possibly need?” she spat, listing out each thing like a burden she’d carried for years, each word cutting deeper than the last like you were some kind of chore that needs to be completed.

"Why did you let this happen to yourself?"

"Mom, please, it was an accident, okay? Do you really think I wanted to get pregnant right now?" Your voice grew louder, more adamant, as frustration surged through you. The insinuation that you had done this on purpose felt like a slap to the face, and you couldn't hold back the intensity any longer.

"Does he know, hmm?" Her voice dripped with mockery, almost ending in a cruel laugh as she rolled her eyes dramatically, like she already had it all figured out. "Do the guy or guys you’ve been fucking, know about this?" She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze piercing through you like she was daring you to respond.

Anger started to bubble up inside you.

You had constantly reminded her that you had a boyfriend, afraid of how she might initially react, but slowly easing her into the idea of Jake since you started dating. But she always seemed uninterested. Every time you suggested a small lunch or dinner to get to know him, she was "too busy" or had some excuse. It reached a point where mentioning his name would earn you that same blank expression— like she had no idea who he was. You had to remind her again and again, as if his mere existence wasn’t even worth remembering in her life.

"No, I haven’t told Jake— my boyfriend, about the pregnancy yet," You explained, sucking your teeth as you tried to keep your voice calm and civil despite your current temper.

"But I was going to, until you decided to call me."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" she shot back, her voice rising with incredulity as she stood up from the chair, her frustration spilling over. "My fault that you didn’t tell your boyfriend? You think he didn’t have a hand in this? That he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he got you into bed?"

"Mom, that's disgusting! Why would you even say that?" You yelled, feeling heat rise to your head at her accusation against Jake, as if he had lured you. This was it— her strategy every time you argued, twisting the conversation to make you feel guilty, manipulating your words against you to gaslight you further.

"Jake would never—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding up her hand to silence you. You hated that you instinctively obeyed, that your body seemed to give her the authority.

"You're having an abortion," she declared, as if her decision were final. "You're going to transfer to a community college close to home, and you're going to leave the dorm. No more of your friends' influence."

You shake your head with defiant, standing your ground.

“You can't control my life anymore, Mom," Your face and body felt defeated, not because you were giving in, but because you were so emotionally exhausted that you could barely summon the energy to fight back.

"And I'm not having an abortion because that's not for you to fucking decide."

Your mother scoffed, marching toward you with her eyes wide, filled with disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom what you had just said.

“Is this some kind of revenge against me?” she demanded, her voice rising with each syllable. “I knew you weren’t happy with me, but I never expected you to pull a stunt like this! Wake up, Y/N! Be fucking mature for once! This is reality— own up to your mistake!” She punctuated her words with a sharp gesture, her finger jabbing the air between you right up to your face.

She stared directly into your eyes, her jaw clenched in anger, and you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“You're just like your fucking father,” she whispered, the insult leaving a bitter burn in her mouth.

You watched as her face began to process the weight of her words, finally opening the Pandora's box of emotions. Years of pent-up frustration, anger, and hatred had found their origin, and you could finally understand why she acted the way she did. The way her expression twisted whenever one of her friends mentioned how much you resembled your father, the absence of any pictures or traces of him in the house—it all made sense now. You weren’t even sure if he had ever paid child support or if he simply allowed your mother to have sole custody when you were born.

But none of it mattered anymore; at this point, you just didn’t care to know.

"That's it, isn't it? That's the reason my life ended up like this." You pressed, your voice thick with repugnance, like a time capsule unsealed, exposing the buried resentment lodged deep in your heart. A sneer nearly crossed your lips as you watched your mother’s whole body and face seemed to recoil.

"And you have the audacity to pin me as some revenge-driven monster? Well, take a good look in the mirror, Mom." You spat the last words venomously, your eyes narrowing and fists clenching at your sides as she flinched.

"Well now you don't have to worry anymore, because I don't ever want to see you again." You said, stepping back without hesitation as your hand tightening around the doorframe.

There were so many things you wanted to tell her, so many broken and damaged pieces she left behind on the path for you to rebuild. But now, you didn’t think it was worth it anymore. It was time to let go of those pieces, to let them shatter on the ground, and finally forge something of your own.

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale as the words slowly sank in. For some reason, from this new angle in the light, the wrinkles on her face seemed deeper, the strands of white in her hair more prominent— visible signs of how much time had passed, how long you had suffered beneath her, though you hadn’t truly noticed until now.

You caught a glimpse of a doodle near the kitchen entrance as you turned away, the charcoal lines of a pencil embedded in the wallpaper. You remembered it clearly— marking your own height as a child because there was no one around to help you. That sense of independence, forged so young, was the reason you were so driven to break free, to shatter the chains the moment you were able.

"I hope you have a happy life mom."

Your final, genuine wish echoed through the lonely kitchen as you walked away from your mother for the last time, swearing never to look back again.

You looked up from your phone when you heard soft knocks on your bedroom door. You were lying comfortably on your bed, but you sat up to see who was coming in. You knew Lena and Ningning mentioning they were going out to buy groceries later, which left only one other person who knew where the emergency key was kept hidden at the entrance.

"Knock, knock," Jake's voice called out playfully as he popped his head through the slightly open door. "I brought you cookies." You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight as he tiptoed in with a puppy-like grin, carefully closing the door behind him. In his hand, he held a brown bag with the logo of your favorite bakery from across the street, sitting at the edge of your mattress.

"You didn’t have to." You cooed, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

He shrugged as you scooted over, making room for him to settle beside you. "I know, but I wanted to. Besides, cookies always make you feel better."

The smell of warm cinnamon and sweet chocolate invaded your senses, and though you would have devoured the cookies like any other day, the lingering effects of your morning sickness made everything taste and smell a little off. So, you hesitated, placing the bag aside for now.

You and Jake leaned back against the headboard of your bed, your shoulders pressed together in the small space. Without thinking, you rested your head on his board shoulder, seeking comfort in his presence. Jake shifted, adjusting his posture to let you settle in more comfortably, letting out a satisfied smile when he felt you snuggled closer before placing his head on top of yours.

"Hey, Jake," You said softly, using the tips of your toes to poke his shin playfully. He hummed in response, turning his head slightly to acknowledge you.

"Have you ever thought about the future?"

He gently rested one of his feet on top of yours, playfully pinning it down, as you try to wiggle out from under the weight but failing. "Yeah, Sometimes when I can't sleep." he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "My mind just kinda zones out, and then it’s like an endless loop of ‘what ifs’ and all that stuff."

You hummed in response as if you could relate to his situation all the time, your voice soft as you asked, "Do you sometimes think about our future together?" Your gaze drifted down to where your playful ministrations had left your limbs tangled together in the sheets, pillows thrown off somewhere on the floor.

"Yes," he admitted faster than you expected, his voice quiet but sure, as his hair lightly tickled your ear. He let out a small laugh at the end, "Maybe just a little too much."

You moved away, standing up straight as the muscles in your neck throbbed from the prolonged awkward position. But mostly, it was to gauge Jake's expression after your random questions that he seemed so willing to answer.

Your silence gave Jake a chance to really observe you. The dark circles under your tired eyes were more pronounced, your eyes slightly red, and your hair tied in a cute, messy bun. He had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand behind your ear, instead opting to give you some space and time to think.

"I've been sick for a few days now, throwing up a lot in the mornings and don't really have the appetite to eat anything," You explained, hugging a pillow tightly to your chest. Jake moved closer to listened to you intently. "At first, I thought it might be the stupid gas station sushi we ate, but then I realized... I didn’t get my period last month. So, I took some tests just to be sure..."

Jake furrowed his brows, confusion flickering across his face. "Y/N, what do you mean…" His voice trailed off, his mind racing to put the pieces of information you told him into perspective, like fragments of a puzzle slowly finding their place in a bigger picture. Then, something clicked. Before he could fully process it, the words slipped out.

"You're pregnant."

The disbelief was evident in his voice as he stared at you eyes as wide as saucers. You nodded, confirming what he could barely believe.

"I don’t understand…" He began, rubbing his temples in deep contemplation. "I just don’t understand how this happened. We always used protection, right?" He looked back at you, then his gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to your abdomen. "Then… how did we…?"

"I don't know." You admitted, looking as lost as he did. "The last time we did it was at the bathroom at Jay's party. Did the condoms you used yours?" You asked, as Jake prone over your questions.

"Yeah, I usually keep one in my wallet or pocket, but the second..." His face suddenly fell, panic setting in as realization dawn on him, like getting hit with ice cold water over the head. He blinked rapidly, his voice wavering. "Someone was handing some out at the start of the party, and I took one without thinking. You don’t think they would have—"

"Tampered with it?" You finished, disbelief sharp in your voice. "Fuck, Jake, I think whoever gave it to you did."

At the time, he hadn’t even considered, hadn’t paid attention to the possibility that someone could do something so messed up. Now, the realization hit him hard. He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale, looking almost sick, like he might throw up at any moment.

"I can’t believe this. I didn’t even think to even fucking check. I just… trusted it." His shoulders slumped, letting out a grunted sigh of guilt. You caught the shimmer in his eyes, his anger and confusion crashing together like deadly waves.

"All of this is my fault," He murmured, his voice breaking, fully grasping the predicament he'd put you in. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's all my fucking fault."

You reached out immediately, cradling his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks in comfort. Instinctively, he placed his hands over yours desperately, grounding himself in your touch.

"Don’t blame yourself, Jake," You said softly, your gaze steady on his. "If there’s anyone to blame, it’s those people who did this, okay? What they did was fucked up."

He took a deep breath, trying to absorb your words, but a new concern flickered in his eyes. "Does your mom know?"

Jake wasn’t foreign to the details of your childhood, though he wouldn’t say it was easy for you to confide in him about your complicated bond with your mother when you first started dating, so he only knows bits and pieces. You’d described it simply, brushing over the pain, which was probably why he’d even thought to ask about your mother's reaction now.

"She knows," You confessed tensely. "Remember when she called me last time at the party? She found the box for my pregnancy test." The memories flowed back in slow motion, and Jake took your hand, intertwining it with his larger one to give you a reassuring squeeze of encouragement.

"She told me to get an abortion, to leave everything I have build here and come back home," You swallowed hard, but the tears didn’t stop flowing out your eyes. "But I told her she can't control my life anymore, that I’m keeping the baby and before I knew it, she was out of my life for good this time."

Jake pulled you gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and guiding your head to rest against his chest. One hand caressed your back while the other held the back of your head, and you surrendered to the release, letting the tears flow freely into his embrace. He murmured soft reassurances, pressing his lips affectionately to the crown of your head. Rocking you gently, he created a safe space for you to let it all out. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, finding comfort in his warmth like never before.

"I’ll support whatever you choose, Y/N. It should always be your choice what you do with your body, and I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother," he reassured you softly. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but in that moment, you felt yourself falling even more deeply in love with him as you shared one heartbeat.

He took a steadying breath, whispering to you saccharinely. "If you choose to keep the baby, our baby, then I’ll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. Whatever it takes, I’m here."

You knew it would be a struggle for both of you— neither of you had the bandwidth to fully handle what lay on the other side of this journey. But seeing him here, trying his best to pull through for both of you, gave you the smallest glimmer of hope. And you knew you’d always do the same for him. This moment may have been small, but it was enough to make you believe, even if just for a second, that you’d both get through it.

Time seems to flow like a river, and everything in your life has gradually started to find its place, evolving naturally around your sudden change in plans for the future.

The first people you and Jake told about the pregnancy were his parents. It felt inevitable— both of you always wanted them to be a meaningful part of your child’s life from the very beginning. And knowing Jake, you doubted he’d be able to keep it a secret for long; he was too close with his family, and sooner or later, he was bound to let it slip. Telling them felt like the right first step.

"Do you think your parents are gonna take the news alright?" You ask him from the passenger seat as Jake settles into the driver’s.

His parents were always different from your own— present in his life, involved in every moment, big or small. You had spent countless Christmases and Thanksgivings with them over the years, and they welcomed and treated you like their own, to the point where Jake and his older brother would sometimes joke about how much their parents liked you better than them, often telling you how much they always wanted a daughter of their own to adore.

Since then, you had come to understand exactly where Jake got his warmth and kindness. His parents were the kind of people who loved wholeheartedly. Yet despite this, you couldn’t shake the fear and worries that they might see your pregnancy as too soon, that they might wonder if you were taking their youngest son’s future from him before it had even fully begun.

"They'll be...understanding, that's for sure," Jake replied, though you caught a hint of skepticism in his own words.

"But I don't want you to worry too much. Besides, I don't think my parents would be too opposed to becoming grandparents either if it’s you." He reached out to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it lovingly.

That's how you both found yourselves driving back to his hometown one weekend, sitting together on the couch in his family’s living room across from each other as you shared the news. You had braced for their reaction as expected— a mix of happiness, confusion, and, above all, a deep-seated worry for the two of you and the baby.

Their faces showed their desire to be supportive, though you couldn’t fault them for the anxiety that crept into their expressions. Despite their concern, they were ready to help as much as possible, which you appreciated deeply. But you and Jake had already agreed: you’d take full responsibility, not wanting to lean too heavily on their kindness.

After that, you and Jake decided to share the news with your close-knit friends, knowing that having the right support system could make all the difference. Besides, it felt uncomfortable keeping something so important from the people you trusted— those who had been by your side for so long.

There was an initial look of shock on their faces— Ningning had her hands covering her mouth, Sunghoon's signature eyebrow was raised so high it practically touched his hairline, and Jay’s jaw seemed to drop to the floor. The only one who didn’t blink twice was Lena, who sat on the couch with a smug smile, amused by the other's reaction to your pregnancy.

“Surprise...?” You squeaked, though they remained frozen in their spots.

It seemed almost unreal that this was happening. Sure, they knew Jake was the most likely among them to be married or even become a father first, but you were the more liable one compared to Jake’s clumsy nature, which overall balance out the relationship. The two of you were also the only ones in a committed relationship amongst your friends.

Anyone could guess that you and Jake were eventually going to end up like together together, but they hadn’t expected it to happen so abruptly.

“How far along are you?” Ningning was the first to speak, immediately pulling you into an enthusiastic hug.

“Almost 2 months,” You replied, gently cradling your lower abdomen to show her. You glanced at Jake, who was smiling beside you. “We’ve got our first gynecology appointment next week to get an ultrasound.”

You didn’t miss the way her eyes filled with tears and her lips pouted as she stared lovingly at you and Jake together. Seeing her so excited and sentimental made you feel almost emotional yourself. She pulled you into another tight hug, and you gladly returned it.

“Dude, you’re gonna be a fucking baby daddy,” Jay said, approaching Jake with his usual fervor and pulling him into a rough hug, in typical Jay fashion.

After congratulating you, Sunghoon smacked Jay on the chest with a serious scowl. “Oh my god, Jay, don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Lena joined the group, draping an arm over your and Jake’s shoulders with a proud smile. “So now that everyone knows you’re pregnant, let’s just agree that I’m going to be the baby’s best godparent.”

You and Jake laughed at the chorus of denial coming from the others, obviously objecting to who truly had the worth to hold that title. The situation was almost comedic, and you could always count on your friends to lighten the mood by arguing among themselves about something so minuscule regarding the baby. At the sight of that, you found a comforting relief in your chest just watching them, knowing that your baby was going to have so many reliable adults (sorta) to look after and pamper them until the end of the world.

Next week arrived, and the gynecology appointment came swiftly. You and Jake patiently waiting at the receptionist waiting room for your name to be called. There was a unspoken nervousness that course through the both of you, but you held each other's hand in silent encouragement as the staff gave you some documents to signed over in the mean time.

“—and who is the person accompanying you, Ms?” the nurse asked without thinking over the counter, causing you to pause and glance at Jake awkwardly.

You weren't sure what to tell her. It made sense to say that Jake was your boyfriend; surely she would understand, right? But maybe the self-consciousness was creeping in, making you fearful of being judged as incompetent or insecure in your situation for choosing to have a baby despite not having the security of marriage. You had seen the debates about it all on the internet, and it was only human to feel a bit self-conscious about people's views.

Jake shot you one of his warm smiles when he noticed your hesitation— the kind that always made you feel safe. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he replied nonchalantly, never breaking eye contact with you.

"I'm the baby's father, ma'am."

Jake’s words gave you the strength you needed throughout the process— from meeting the doctor, to her placing the ultrasound device on your abdomen, to watching the faint outline of your baby on the monitor. Unfortunately, the baby’s heartbeat couldn’t be heard in the early phase of the 1st trimester in your case, which was probably for the best, since you and Jake would have likely ugly cried even harder if you’d heard it together.

Things started to fall into place one by one— Jake began his internship without a hitch, and you continued with your classes as usual. Despite Jake’s concerns, you promised him you wouldn’t push yourself too hard, though it took plenty of reassurance to ease his puppy-like worry. You’d told yourself that if you could make it to an 8am lecture on Greek monologue after partying until 3am on the same day, you could handle at least that much of hardship of pregnancy.

The biggest change was Jake’s decision to rent an apartment now that he was earning a steady income. He thought it was a good idea for you both to have a shared space to take care of the baby, knowing it would be challenging to do so while living separately. You were happy to keep things minimalistic, just grateful for Jake’s sacrifices, though he always assured you he was more than okay with it— jokingly saying that he can now finally have you all to himself to spoil.

And he did. Jake took care of you more than you could care for yourself. He was patient with you during your sudden mood changes, cleaned the place on days when you were physically incapable of doing so, and still managed to satisfy your odd cravings in the middle of the night when he came home from work. Even then, he was willing to massage your legs when the swelling caused you pain to walk.

It almost felt like you were taking him for granted, and there were moments when you wondered if he might become exhausted by the constant stress. You wouldn’t blame him if conversations of regret started to dwell in his mind. Yet every day, without fail, he would lay down beside you on the bed at the end of the day while facing each other. His hand would trail to caress your protruding stomach as he whispered sweet words, as if he were already communicating with your unborn child, thanking you for your efforts of giving him the chance to be a father.

With his help, the feelings of insignificance and uselessness began to fade in the background, and you slowly accepted that pregnancy was not an easy journey. Both of you were holding each other by a thread, sharing the hope of welcoming your child by the end of this dark tunnel.

Almost four months passed by more quickly than you expected. The physical and emotional changes you and Jake faced each day made time feel both swift and excruciatingly slow— if that was even possible. However, the silver lining was that your body was getting used to the growing baby. You were finally able to move around freely instead of feeling stuck between your bed and the sofa. Your appetite had returned to normal, allowing you to eat without much difficulty.

At your recent appointment with the gynecologist, the baby had reached the stage where the gender could be clearly identified. Your friends, eager to make it a lasting memory, insisted on throwing a baby shower and gender reveal party to mark the occasion. Jake and Lena went out to pick up the specially ordered cake from a bakery, while Sunghoon and Ningning teamed up to decorate the living room (despite some playful bickering about where things should go). You and Jay took charge of the food and drinks for the guests— well, mostly Jay, since he insisted you sit down and rest while he handled everything.

Jay nagged you more than usual as he rummaged through your fridge, clearly concerned about how empty it was. In the meantime, he prepped a bunch of healthy snacks for you, making you laugh at his grumbling but underlying affection, almost as if he were the one who was pregnant instead of you.

The party began once everyone arrived, including some of your close friends like classmates Sunoo and Minjeong, along with Riki and Jungwon—juniors Jake had met through his dance club— and, of course, Jake's parents.

Your apartment, once a quiet space for just you and Jake, now felt like a lively festival, filled with so many loved ones. The excitement in the room warmed your heart as you sat at the table with the gender reveal cake in front of you. Everyone of them wore colors representing the gender they believed the baby would be— though some were definitely more adamant about their guesses.

"Hey, love," Jake greeted, leaning down to give your forehead a gentle kiss before taking the seat beside you. "How’s our little corn doing?"

You found it adorable that Jake had taken to giving the baby different nicknames based on their size each week. Ever since he stumbled upon a website showing how big the baby was at each stage, he’d started affectionately referring to them as different fruits and vegetables, each one a silly little surprise for you to look forward to.

"Doing good, though their mom would really appreciate it if they’d stop kicking her uterus so much.” you replied, resting a hand on your bump.

"Ohhh, we’ve got a little football player on the way," Jake said with a goofy grin, clearly eager to teach his child how to kick a ball just like his father had taught him.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his endless excitement. It made your maternal instinct flutter, imagining Jake crouching down to his knees, patiently guiding a mini version of yourselves in the park as you watch them from your seat at the picnic blanket.

You and Jake already knew that no matter what the child was, you’d love them. It didn’t matter to either of you, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s why you opted to wear white for the gender reveal, without any expectations.

"Come on, guys," Sunghoon called, gesturing for you both to focus on the party. His digital camera was already set up to record in the center of the room. "Cut the cake!"

Everyone was on the edge of their seats watching as you and Jake held the knife handle together, slowly slicing through the cream-covered cake. With a shared giggle, you let the slice fall onto the plate, finally revealing the baby pink sponge cake inside. The room erupted in cheers, and party poppers went off with a loud bang, showering everyone in sparkling confetti that rained down in celebration.

You saw Jake’s mother crying tears of joy as Jake's father hugged her with a beaming smile. Your friends couldn't stop clapping and cheering, thrilled about the little princess they’d soon welcome to adore. The energy in the room was electric as Jake pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering “our baby girl” over and over into your ear. You clung to him, echoing his words between choked sobs as you cried together on his shoulder.

You were so happy and so grateful for this moment, yet you couldn't shake the petrifying feeling in your heart. It was a strange inkling that created a small hollow space within you, making it difficult to focus throughout the party, despite your efforts to maintain a smiling facade and convince yourself that everything was alright. You might be able to trick yourself and everyone else, but you knew you could never fool your boyfriend.

"Something's on your mind, isn't it?" Jake asked gently as you both got ready for bed after the party. You looked into his eyes after sitting on the edge of the bed and changing into your nightgown, sighing in defeat as you realized you couldn't say no to him.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" You asked genuinely, a hint of perturbation coloring the cadence of your words.

Jake moved to sit beside you, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face as he leaned in closer, his warmth radiating against you. You couldn’t get enough of the way he looked at you, as if you held his entire universe in your hands. He was intimately familiar with the map of your features, just as he understood your proclivity to overthink, knowing precisely the right words to soothe you. Others might see you as a brooder, but he understood your concern as a reflection of how deeply you cared— about him, about the baby.

"Anything that involves you will always be right," He said. It was a soft whisper in the twilight moonlight, where everything felt quiet and serene, drawing your attention to his expression.

You couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, accentuating the unique quirk of his pouty lips that you adored kissing. It reminded you of the first time you met, when he put in so much effort to impress you with his playful antics and awkward yet charming jokes. You both ended up laughing throughout the entire date, a feeling that blossomed into something deeper.

The way he kissed you now brought back the same feeling you’d had back then, making you feel like you might explode. He traced your jawline gently before grabbing it hastily, angling your lips up to meet his whilst your free hand itched to grab his shoulders. You almost bumped noses as Jake leaned in to deepen the kiss, making it hard to breathe with the intensity of it all.

“She'll love you.” You managed to gasp with the opportunity you had, though he didn’t let you go for long. Smiling against your lips as he realized you meant your baby girl, he slipped a hand down to cup your bump, his smile widening as he felt a tiny kick against his palm.

"She’ll love us," Jake murmured, pulling back just an inch, his gaze flickering to your lips with lust before capturing them again, this time with a ravishness that left you winded. His tongue ventured into your mouth with a hunger like it was the first time, exploring like it was uncharted territory, yet his lips moved against yours with a softness that melted you. Unable to resist, you reached up and tugged gently at his hair, opening your mouth wider to show him you wanted this as much as he did.

"Move up here for me, love." His hands brushed gently along your sides, encircling your waist as he guided you toward the middle of the bed, helping you settle against the headboard in a comfortable position.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" Jake asked with a hint of worry, his palms stroking your inner thighs as your nightgown ride up slightly to expose your skin while you shifted along the mattress.

"I'm okay, Jake," You reassured him, brushing his bangs aside to get a clearer look at him. His slow, mallow pace made you feel a little impatient, a spark of intense desire starting to burn. "I want you to keep going," You begged, voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s mouth slid against yours at your command, sending a warm thrill through you as he coaxed your bottom lip, nibbling on it like something sweet. Jake took this moment to peel your nightgown from your body over your head, making sure you didn’t have to lift a finger as he helped you undress, leaving you in just your panties for him to stop and gaze at.

It took every fiber of your willpower not to shy away and hide from Jake. You were hyper-aware of the physical changes your body had undergone, noticing them unconsciously every morning in the shower. Beyond the growing weight of your belly, you’d observed your areolas darkening, your breasts and curves becoming fuller, and the stretch marks becoming more prominent.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was normal, that it was natural for your body to look and feel this way because pregnancy is complicated. Dwelling on these changes would only hurt you internally, especially when you were certain Jake didn’t think twice about any of them. You knew he loved you unconditionally, for who you were, not just your body.

It was evident in the way Jake’s hooded eyes trailed over your naked skin, studying with fascination every inch with a look of awe. There was something both primal and possessive in his gaze as he swallowed with a heavy breath, instinctively licking his lips. It was as if, just by being there, you were ripping his insanity piece by piece. Heat rose to the tips of your ears, your heart racing as his intense admiration pulled you deeper into the moment, slotting himself between your legs.

"You're beautiful," His hands groped the flesh of your thighs before roaming upward past your stomach to squeeze your breasts. The brush of your hardened nipples against his palm rendered you speechless, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"I look like a planet," You softly joked, finding it rather hard to believe.

Jake looked up at you with a smirk, dipping his head to lick a stripe along the valley of your breast. “Then, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—"

You nearly knocked your head against the headboard when Jake took one of your perked nipples between his swollen lips, letting out a breathless whine as he pulled on the pebble with his teeth.

“—I’ve never wanted to fuck a planet so badly in my life after seeing you.” His groan rumbled against your chest.

You would have point out everything remotely wrong with his statement if only he wasn’t working wonders on your breast. His mouth move to suckle on the hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it messily while his other hand kneaded the other breast, fingers twisting and flicking at the sensitive nub. He alternated between ministrations, giving each peak the same well-deserved attention that makes your back arch at the pleasure.

Your hands searched for something to hold on, slipping under his shirt to trace the defined contours of his back muscles. Just the sensation of your nails clawing desperately over his skin made him shiver.

Jake knew how tenderly aching every part of your body was due to the pregnancy. You were so responsive, so sensitive— completely under the mercy of his touch, letting out loud moans of his name that turned him on. He was obsessed with the way you threw your head back, your skin shuddering with goosebumps, and the way your hips twitched when he rubbed two fingers over your clothed sex, feeling just how wet you were as it soaked through sticking to his fingers.

“Can you feel how wet you are, baby? Your pretty little cunt is drooling for me.” Jake taunted, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers as he moved away from your breasts, placing final, gentle kisses on each puckering nipple to ease their soreness.

"Yes," you shuddered, feeling him press down sharply against your core, making your legs tremble. “Please do something, J-Jake, I’m going crazy."

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you." Jake cooed, pulling his shirt over his head to expose his lean physique.

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants before he sank on his stomach between your legs. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties and peeled the damp fabric from your pussy eagerly, tugging it until it was completely off your legs.

You blushed, noticing the way his face hovered at eye level so close to your bare pussy. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your aching core.

"So swollen and pretty," He purred, watching your moist folds glistening with arousal as you clenched over nothing at his words. His thumb pressed gently on your skin, spreading the delicate flesh to reveal your puffy clit while his other hand held you firmly under your thigh.

A stream of curses spilled from your lips as Jake flattened his tongue against your wet folds, lapping at your slit with fervor to work you open. His plump lips were soft, yet his tongue had a roughness that drove you wild, the contrasting sensations leaving you breathless as he devoured you.

Jake let out low groans of pleasure, spurred on by your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails grazing his scalp as you urged him closer to your bucking hips. He felt your thighs pressing in on either side of his face, only driving him to inhale deeply as the tips of his nose nudge against your clit with every lick and suckle, savoring your scent and juices as it grew sweeter.

“You taste so good, baby, could munch on you forever," He mumbled, moving his skillful tongue to roll over your throbbing clit, flicking the bundle of nerves playfully as he relished in the way you were grinding against his mouth.

The lewd sounds you made were a hymn that only fueled Jake’s desire, making him groan as he hump his clothed erection against the mattress, his tip twitching with precum because you tasted too good to be true. Jake was a devotee when it came to you. Your body was a holy temple, and your beautiful cunt was a deity he was willing to kneel before in worship, especially if heaven tasted like it did between your legs.

"J-Jakey, oh my God," You sobbed out, squeezing you eyes shut. "Feels so, so good—Hmnh—"

You nearly choked on your own words when Jake probed his middle finger to your entrance, his saliva mixed with your slick arousal allowed him to insert his finger smoothly into your velvet walls. You instinctively clenched around his digit at the intrusion, savoring the way he curled it just right, grazing that sensitive spot that made your abdomen pulse erratically.

He didn’t move the finger, as if slipping it in was simply to give your tightening walls something to clutch around, to loosen you and make you feel occupied. You couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, panting heavily as the knot in your stomach tightened. If just one finger was making you feel this intense, you couldn’t imagine the burning sensation his thick cock would bring instead.

Jake sensed the shift in your demeanor when he glanced up, watching you fondled your tender breast with one hand, while the other cradled the underside of your protruding belly as your body writhed. You were close to release, and this spurred him on, his mouth lapping over your delicate pearl with a rapid, more intense rhythm than before, and soon the bedsheets were damp with your creamy juices running down his chin.

"I'm gonna cum, oh God, Jake! I'm gonna—"

Your mouth opened wide, caught up in your orgasm, unable to utter a single sound as your face contorted, nearly blacking out as waves of release crashed over you. Jake’s tongue wriggled against your engorged clit with precision, feeling your walls clenched his finger in a vice-like grip, each movement making the pleasure of your climax worth while.

"Such an obedient pussy.” He mouth out along the expanses of your spent slit, sliding between your cheeks and along the groves of your folds until he languidly kissed your clit. “You came on my tongue so fucking good, baby."

It took a moment for you to recover. It had been months since you’d had any sort of copulation like this, and the expenditure of your release left you shivering under the cold sweat on your skin, the tremors gradually subsiding.

Still, you mustered enough energy to prop yourself on your elbow, watching as Jake sat up and plunge his wet middle finger into his mouth, savoring every drop of your excess essence like liquid gold. Disheveled and his cheeks flushed pink, licking his cum-stained cupid's bow.

Jake leaned forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You’re doing so well for me," He whispered, his hands rubbing your stomach affectionately, as if to check on the baby's state. "Are you okay? Want to keep going?"

You nodded blankly, your finger trailing down to pull on the drawstrings, making him chuckle as he helped tug them loose. Jake hurriedly pulled down his sweatpants with your aid, tossing them onto the bedroom floor. His length spring stiffly against his abs, the tip a deep shade that matched your flushed cheeks as you realized just how eager you’d looked reaching for his pants.

"Sorry." You apologized. "Just...need you inside me right now."

"You're so cute when your cock hungry," Jake shakes his head, giving you those bedroom eyes before pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips. "Lie down for me, love, and let me make that aching pussy feel good."

Jake helps you settle your head on the pillow, guiding you to lie down on your side, as lying on your back was no longer an option. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he wraps his body snugly against your back, pulling you close to his chest. You wish you could face him, craving the intimacy of it while he fucks you, but with your belly in the way, spooning from behind was the best position.

One of his hands went beneath you, supporting the underside of your stomach to hold you in place. You could hear him spit on his palm, his other hand pumping and lubricating his cock in preparation, making your toes curl in anticipation. His hot breath fanned against your nape, his lips sliding across your skin with feather-like kisses.

“You stay just like that.” Jake remarked, and you whimper out loud when you felt his cockhead circling your entrance, probing at the hole experimentally with the slightest pressure. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He began easing himself into your tightness slowly, hearing you wince as his length stretched against the resistance of your wall.

"Relax for me, baby. Let me in— yeah, just like that. Good girl."

His thumb circled soothingly on your hip encouragingly as you gradually dilated, allowing his tip to press on the deepest part of your swelling walls. Biting your lower lip, you curled inward, cheeks smushed against the soft pillow, on the verge of exploding as Jake buried himself fully, stilling to give you time to adjust to his size.

It was impossible to believe you'd had his cock so many times before, familiar with just how large and hard he could occupied inside you. But now, with your body rearranged to accommodate a living being in your womb, you felt as though you were bursting at the seams, struggling to take all of him.

It didn’t help that this was the first time you felt each other so raw, without any latex barrier to dull the heat as he seeped into your sensitive walls, every vein pressing against your plush insides. Jake was grunting heavily too, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you pulsing tightly around his cock, like a snug sleeve almost too small to take him, fully realizing just how swollen you were due to the baby.

"Y/N," He soothes breathlessly close to your ear. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," You managed to reply meekly, albeit the initial painful sensation was starting to fade but soon turns pleasurable. You could feel your walls adapting to Jake's cock, and a pleasant pressure began to build rapidly. You found yourself craving friction, bucking your hips back slightly to signal him. "You can move, Jake."

The pace of his thrusts was steady at first. He was testing the waters on how far he could take while gauging your reaction. He was attentive to your body language, and when your moans started to increase in volume and your ass bounced back to meet his thrusts halfway, Jake gripped your hips more aggressively. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was almost out before pounding back until his pelvis was flushed against the curve of your spine. He did it over and over again, making you go insane, feeling each other’s sweat sticking your back to his front.

"T-Too deep, Jake. Fuck, it's too fucking deep," You slurred, your voice heavy as if lost in the clouds, the lewd sound of skin slapping echoing in the room as he hit your sweet spot mercilessly from behind.

"Yeah, baby? You like how I fuck your tight pussy?" Jake laughed lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear.

He wished he could see your expression as he grabbed your leg and lifted it, hooking it over his thigh. The angle allowed him to kiss that spot so perfectly engraved in you that the pleasure was almost blinding, making it feel as though he was splitting you apart.

"Feel that? Can you feel how deep I am?"

You were too speechless to answer, so hyperfocus on reaching your high when you felt your baby’s kicking against your belly. You couldn’t help but place a hand over Jake’s, his hand that never left its spot to support the weight of your lower stomach. You didn’t know what came over you to let those incoming words slip. Maybe deep down, you knew how much Jake's paternal instinct would enjoy hearing them.

"G-Gonna make you a dad, Jake." You gasped out when his hold on your leg tightens, your brazen words made his body tense up. "Fuck, gonna make you the father of our babies."

Like a flip of a coin, you were haunted with the beat of the bed squeaking in tandem with Jake's thrust. It was ruthless, it was feral and with each punch of his tip against that sweet spot ripples unbearable pleasure, leaving you a mess of screams.

"That’s right, love. You’re gonna take all my seed like your body was meant to, right? Let me fill your womb until you're nice and full." Jake's voice deepened, a savagery in his demeanor to absolutely batter and bruise your birth canal that you'd have no choice but to accept his cock and his sperm.

You let out a pathetic yes, captive by the way Jake was so turned on by the prospect of him putting another baby in you that your body was slowly surrendering yourself to his gospels. Jake could feel his self control loosening, one hand reaching to grasp your bouncing tits from behind to roughly pinch a tender peak.

"Can’t wait to see you nurse our babies like a good mama.” He was biting the shell of your ear as you squirmed, feeling his thumb’s nail running roughly over your nipple. “Letting them latch on your pretty little nipples until you're leaking with milk.”

His words affected you in ways that felt almost ludicrous, your tender buds and heavy bosoms tingling with anticipation at the mere thought of that sucking motion once your baby is born. Familiar white spots dotted your vision as your release drew closer, the knot in your core tightening so deeply that there wasn’t a semblance of control left in your mind.

Jake was slipping under your touch as well, feeling your gaping hole pulling him in like a sealed vacuum. He couldn’t help but imagine his cock imprinted on the pink linings of your cunt, teetering at the brink of delirium but focused solely on seeing you come undone before giving in to his own desire.

"Gonna make you my wife, baby." Jake's assaults slows down but he used that as a leverage to rail you deep and precise, his movements were deliberate that he knew just the right amount of power to beckon your orgasm forward. "You’ll let me use your pussy forever, until all you can do is get pregnant and have my kids, yeah?"

Incoherent screams of agreement spilled from your lips, and you felt an atomic-like stir scattering from head to toe as your threshold was crossed. Jake said words that encouraged your release— I love you, baby, want you to cum for me. Your climax was blinding, yet at the same time, it revealed the answer to the universe: all you could think about was Jake, Jake, Jake and how much you love him back.

The said man anchored your body close as you convulsed uncontrollably, letting your orgasm wash over you, growing limp with overstimulation. Jake continued to thrust his aching cock once, twice more, his swollen tip twitching against the entrance of your cervix before he let out a long, begrudging moan of triumph into your shoulder, ropes of his creamy cum coated your walls, marking you profoundly with his seed.

Jake always daydream about this moment; all those fantasies led to this as he felt his thick load dripping down the crack of your pussy, spilling down to your inner thighs as you couldn't hold any more of him.

There were no words shared between you two for a minute, ragged breathing and the humidity of sex occupied the space. The aftermath of your highs were intoxicating you in the best way possible, leaving no room for arguments that he had fucked you to another dimension. You wished to bask in this atmosphere a little longer, to soak in each other's presence and recover your bearings. But Jake, ever attentive, lifted himself up, no matter how exhausted he was, and rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to your pulse.

One hand reached out to push away the wispy strands of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead as you craned back to look at his smiling face and gooey haze, reaching out to hold his jaw as well.

You snorted tiredly. "You have that creepy smile on you again."

"You said yes," He leaned closer to whisper against your lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lands a quick peck to your lips.

You frowned, tilting your head in confusion. "To what?

"My proposal."

@moonheecore All rights reserved. Do not translate or post my works anywhere without permission.

[gghostwriter]

Hey, how you doing? So I was wondering if you could write a one-shot where Y/N visits Spencer in prison and just like how when JJ visited him, Spencer doesn’t like the way the inmates are looking at Y/N, and when he gets back to his cell or when he is in the prison yard, he hears inmates talking about Y/N and gets protective. Saying stuff like “don’t talk about her like that, you don’t get to talk about her” or something similar.

I am unsure if there is a fanfic like this so just in case, I am asking ☺️

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Protective!Spencer Word Count: 0.8k A/N: apologies that this took a while. I was feeling very hyper-critical and unsatisfied with anything I wrote so this collected dust in my drafts a bit—still do feel it if I’m being honest but I felt the motivation to revisit my rough draft and make some changes before posting. I hope you like it! Main masterlist

His. // Spencer Reid

Spencer hasn’t felt himself ever since his capture. If he was being honest, his descend to rock bottom started even before then but that wasn’t the point. No, the point was the accumulation of his lack of sleep in his single cell—only an hour at most, the constant alertness from keeping his identity as a fed hidden—his fashioned shiv always an inch away from reach, and the group shared meals—never knowing what other contaminants it has, all made him feel one step away from snapping. He was teetering on the edge of lashing out and like the unsubs that he used to profile in black and white typing, he only needed one stressor before all hell broke loose.

And that stressor was you. 

Visitation hours were always bittersweet. It soothed his soul to see your expressive eyes and beautiful face but dread always came after, knowing the minutes were counting down before you and him had to separate. He had always hated the idea of separation, hated not seeing you wholly and safe.

During the past cases, the bodies of each victim somehow always reminded him of you and here, locked in the confines with other criminals, made his hyper-vigilance of protecting you increase by a hundred. 

“Love, you don’t have to come visit me,” he suggested as the jeers from the other inmates about your looks echoed on the walls. Each whistle and vulgar mention of how your looks get their gears revving was a chip in his knightly armor and although he could see you trying to pay it no attention, it soothe no pain that he was the reason why you were exposed to all this sexualization.

“It’s fine, Spence. I can handle it as long as I get to see you,” you defended. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” the corners of his mouth lifting to a small smile. Four simple words that didn’t fully express the ache echoing in his chest. He could read in several languages but none of them could fully explain the loss that reverberates in him when it’s time to part ways.

You picked on the loose threading of his cardigan adorning your body. “I’ve been visiting your mom. She asks about you a lot. How you’re doing, how you’re being treated and uh—” your lips quivered from emotion “—she misses you too.” 

“Thank you for seeing her. Can you tell her I’m doing fine? I don’t want her to worry too much about me,” he uttered a lie. He wasn’t doing great and you could see that but having been together for so long, you understood the reasoning behind the fib without needing any explanation.

I’d like to get a piece of that, huh. Another crude sentence about you reached his ears causing him to snap his neck to the side and clench his jaw. With all of his vast intellect, Spencer never did understand the psychology behind men catcalling as a form of flirtation and expecting the recipient to react positively. But then again, men who perpetuate this behavior were more of animals in his eyes. Plebeian in thought and unappealing in form.

Maybe there was something in the stale air of prison that made him his hackles rise or maybe it was just his biological imperative to protect what was his. Either reason, he felt himself snap the next day during yard hour when a duo of inmates sat beside him to slobber about your beauty and body.

“Hey Twig, was that your girl the other day? That pretty young thing?” The one with the neck tattoo taunted. “Tell me, does she taste as sweet as she looks?” 

His bald headed partner sneered. “Man, I don’t think he can get her off, probably doesn’t even know how she sounds like in bed. With how skinny he is, bet he’s also pencil—”

“Have some respect. You don’t get to talk about her like that.” Spencer snarled out. He felt like an animal about to escape from his cage—gone was the logical ex-FBI agent and all that remained was a convicted, highly intelligent felon no longer afraid of committing a crime. Additional blood coating his shackled hands was nothing if done in your name.

They both snickered. “And what you going to do about it, huh?” 

He ground his teeth, saying nothing. Spencer knew the statistics of him winning in a fight specially 2 vs 1 was slim to none so he catalogued their faces and numbers in his vast mind and bid his time like a snake lying in the wait for his prey to settle in faux comfort.

“Thought so. C’mon man,” the one with the neck tattoo patted his back and started to stand with his partner. “I’lll see your girl in my fantasies tonight, Twig.” 

But before they were out of earshot, he turned and called back a warning—his last mercy before the execution. “You’re going to regret it.” 

They both hooted in laughter, unaware that Spencer makes good on his promises—threats really, anything to protect his girl.

And when he poisoned a group of inmates who were smuggling drugs inside the jail, he made sure that all those men who jeered sexual innuendos at you, counting in the two who confronted him in the yard, were included. His methods cold, detached, and impersonal—something he learned from the killers he had spent half of his life profiling.

There were whispers, of course, who caused the contamination. He wasn’t deaf. He knew it was what labelled him as a danger and almost untouchable in prison. An emerging alpha in this testosterone filled animal kingdom. The same status that extend to you, his chosen queen.

And so during your next visit when no cat calls reached your ears, you innocently asked about it and he just shrugged like it was no big deal. He didn’t want to taint your mirage of him any more than his stint in prison had done. You were his to protect, his to care for, and his to love.

To put it simply, you were his.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[hannieehaee]

LIKE YOU DO

18+ / mdi

summary: when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

content: brother'sbestfriend!seungcheol, frienemies-ish to lovers, reader is jeonghan's adoptive sister of his same age, mentions of previous unrequited crush, lots of unserious banter, afab reader, they're both inexperienced, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 7.8k

a/n: this one was kinda short sorry T-T i rlly enjoyed the concept though so it was fun to write! hope u guys enjoy!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Jeonghan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Seungcheol keep showing up during my breaks to bring me coffee?"

"Oh. He's trying to break you down so he can ask you out," He responded in the most nonchalant way possible.

"What? Since when does Seungcheol even like me?"

"Are you kidding? he's had a huge crush on you since we were seventeen."

"Dude, what? Where the hell was that attitude back in middle school when I was following him around like a fucking loser?", you grumbled at the memory of your former unrequited crush.

It was pathetic to think about, but it was true. You had sadly had a tendency to follow your brother and his friend around during the majority of your tweens and teens, always carrying the false hope that Seungcheol would one day look your way. As expected, he never even so much as glanced at you during that period of your life.

It's not like you could blame him. You were just a few years behind the rest of the herd when it came to puberty, you were still donning braces and also had a less than favorable sense of style. By all means, you were a bit of a loser up until turning 16. However, it was still sad to know that the guy of your dreams simply saw you as a nuance he had to deal with in exchange for being able to hang out with your brother.

Except that had been well over two years ago (give or take). By the time you were 16 and a junior in high school, you were confidently over your crush. You had stopped following him around by the time you entered the second half of your teens, but your crush would still occasionally show remnants of itself any time he was around (which was often, as he and Jeonghan were practically attached to the hip). However, it was far more lowkey than before and eventually died down altogether. You were long past those awkward years of tweenhood and now had a developed sense of style, along with an air of confidence you now carried with you. Puberty hit you all at once and your entire persona changed along with it. You had an established group of friends and were even a bit popular, no longer needing to hang around Jeonghan and Seungcheol just for a glimpse of the boy's attention. By the time you were 16, you were over Choi Seungcheol.

This carried over to the last two years of high school, now with a completely different dynamic between you and your former crush. Despite attending the same grades at the same time, you did not belong to the same social circles, so you would not see each other too often. However, since your brother (and brother's best friend) continued to attend the same school as you those last two years of high school, you still bumped into Cheol from time to time, specially whenever Jeonghan would bring him over.

Over the years, Seungcheol came to see you as less of a nuance and more of a friend. After turning 16 (upon your glow up and the dissipation of your crush), he would engage in casual conversation with you. He would even seek you out on his own at times, though you were never too enthusiastic about these meetings. Middle school you would've been elated at such development, but you didn't think much of it after having gotten over your crush, now bitter over how it had all played out so fruitlessly for you.

After having gotten over your crush, you came to resent Seungcheol a bit, now realizing the way he used to sometimes take advantage of your crush to get you to be his lackey and how he would even make you the butt of jokes among his friend group (whenever your brother wasn't around, of course). During the years in which you were infatuated with him, you truly believed it was just some sort of inside joke between the two of you; a 'will they, won't they' type of dynamic. However, upon leaving that childish phase of your life, you began to look back at it in embarrassment. After that, you distanced yourself from him. During ages 16 and up, you would even come to avoid him, something which Jeonghan thankfully never commented on despite having also been aware of your former crush.

And now. Now you were being made privy to the fact that Seungcheol had apparently begun to return your crush only a little over a year after you got over yours. At seventeen, Jeonghan said. That's the year you like to believe you truly got your act together. After your glow up at 16 years of age (appearance and personality-wise), you began to engage in new hobbies, new friend groups, and overall went through a full transformation of your former loser self (or at least that's how Seungcheol had made you feel all those years). You had put all relationship related interests aside since your catastrophic crush on Seungcheol left you high and dry. After graduating, you even left the country for a few months, deciding to start college a semester after your brother to explore the world a bit in order to find yourself before starting school back up again.

That period of time proved very useful to you. You mingled in the arts of casual dating in your absence (something which you had never done thanks to your irremovable crush), made friends, took up new interests, and most of all, grew out of any remnants of your former feelings for Seungcheol.

Except that all came crumbling down the moment you came back, suitcase in hand, and found Seungcheol at the door of your brother's apartment upon your arrival for your move-in day with your brother, which now seemed to include Seungcheol in the equation.

You had been less than elated when your brother suddenly informed you that instead of solely moving in with him in order to begin attending his university, you would now be sharing the apartment with an unwanted guest – Seungcheol. This had been the first time you saw him again after graduating, which had also been your last day to see anyone for the past six months over the duration of your trip.

Since your brother had begun attending school while you took a sabbatical from education, he had found himself an apartment so you would have a place to move into upon your return. The agreement had been for the two of you to be the sole habitants, until Seungcheol suddenly decided to attend the same university as you and your brother, promptly moving in with Jeonghan in your absence. It seemed like that had been the original plan, one which died when Seungcheol simply decided to stay, moving his things out what was supposed to be your room and moving them into what then became a shared room between him and Jeonghan.

This was when you first began to have suspicions about Seungcheol.

Although your crush had died down about two years back, you still felt awkward in his presence. His existence was a constant reminder of his consistent rejection of your feelings, something which had not helped your confidence much in the past. But it now seemed like Seungcheol had been the one seeking you out more than the other way around. Even back when you were saying your goodbyes before leaving on your vacation, Seungcheol had seemed even more disappointed at your prolonged absence than your own brother. You hadn't thought much of it at the time, except that this behavior kept up as the two of you became roommates.

Seungcheol would now walk you to class whenever possible, even when it meant going out of his way. He would lend you notes from the classes he had taken the prior semester; ones which you were currently having to take. He would show up between your classes with either drink or food in hand. He'd stop by your workplace at the school's cafe whenever he had down time. He'd stare down any guy that would try and interact with you in any of these instances. You were completely casual about it, trying to not read too much into it, but the worst thing about it all was that you liked it. You liked the attention he was finally giving you.

Though you were suspicious about Seungcheol's intentions, you had never considered the possibility of Seungcheol actually liking you romantically until your brother had so casually informed you just now. Even through your immediate complaint about it, your heart sped up at the thought. Your mind went back to every single memory of your own crush on him, thinking back to every single thing you used to like about him. Up until the moment in which Jeonghan called your attention once more, having answered your question but receiving no response from you due to the extended internal monologue you had gone through due to the sudden revelation.

"Sorry, what did you say?", you finally responded.

He chuckled at your absent-mindedness, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. "I said that your crush was just puppy love. He can't help that he didn't return your feelings at the time. It's been like what, three years since you got over him? Are you really still mad about it?", replied Jeonghan as he nudged you to eat the muffin he had bought you over twenty minutes ago.

Puppy love? It sure didn't feel like it during all those years in which you pined over him. But maybe Jeonghan was right. Maybe it had simply been interpreted as a harmless crush by both Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Except this did not justify every single remembrance of Seungcheol's constant dismissal and mockery of your feelings through the years, only ever looking your way once you were finally over him.

You took a deep breath, deciding to try and be rational in your response, "He mocked me over my crush for years, Jeonghan. He made me the butt of every joke and took advantage of how into him I was for his own entertainment. He only ever started respecting me when I changed my appearance and personality completely. Why should I even consider giving him a chance?"

"Hey, I'm not telling you to do that. Just keep an open mind, okay? We were kids. I'm sure he meant it all in good fun. You know he can be kind of an idiot at times," he took a pinch of the untouched muffin in front of you, "Is there no part of you that maybe still likes him?"

"Did you come to my workplace to harass me into dating your best friend?", you snatched the muffin away – the muffin he had 'bought' despite getting a discount due to your position as a barista, "I'm not the same loser I was in middle school, I have options."

"Oh, yeah?", he smirked, "Then how come you've never had a boyfriend?"

"I'm only 19, it's not like I've dedicated my entire life to celibacy. If I wanted one I could get one. Easy," you argued, "Are you gonna leave any time soon? I need to get back to work," you began to gather his and your cup to head back to your work duties.

"There's literally no one here," he whined, "And stop dodging my questions. Do you like him? Do you want a relationship or not?", he pushed, "I'm your brother, you're supposed to trust me with this type of stuff."

"Adoptive brother," you corrected as you wiped the table Jeonghan was still sitting at.

"Don't say that. I hate it when you say that," he whined.

"You know what? You're right," you decided, halting your movements.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I should get a boyfriend."

"Oh. You mean someone who isn't Seungcheol, don't you?", he sighed.

"Of course. I'm not just gonna come crawling back to him just because he decided he likes me now. And you're right. Now that I'm over my crush and I'm back home, I should get a boyfriend. Maybe that'll get Cheol off of me," you declared.

"So it is about Cheol then."

"Jeonghan, shut up!"

Things changed for you after that conversation. Or at least the way you looked at Seungcheol shifted.

While you had questioned why he would suddenly begin showing up as frequently as he did, showing genuine interest in your company, you had not once entertained the thought of him liking you. Jeonghan informing you of his crush in such a nonchalant way also made you realize that Seungcheol had been quite obvious about his sudden liking to you, always becoming standoffish when other guys were around and even carrying your backpack for you.

The thought of him liking you pleased you. Even if you wanted to be in denial about it, your crush finally being reciprocated was something you had given hope on back when you were about 15. However, knowing that Seungcheol only started seeing you in a non platonic way after your feelings had finally dissipated also annoyed you beyond belief. How was it fair? He got to tease you and treat you as if you were nothing but a nuance for years, only to turn around a few years later and decide he wanted you? You weren't about to stand for it.

You meant it when you told Jeonghan that you would consider entering the dating scene.

For years, you hoped Seungcheol would eventually like you back, so you never even as much as looked in anyone else's way. When you got over your crush, your pride was too wounded to even think about romance. The only exception had been during your trip overseas, where you dated boys here and there, but it was never anything that lasted over a few weeks. Now was finally the time to begin dating.

Okay, granted. Maybe part of you was doing this just to give Seungcheol a taste of his own medicine, but that part didn't matter too much. You decided you'd just disregard his crush just like he did yours; drinking in all the extra attention but never doing anything about it

~

"Hey, wait up!"

You slowed down without looking back, able to recognize that voice even in your sleep.

"Forget about me? I always walk you to your next class," he chuckled, breathless, "Uh, here. Got you your favorite," he said as he handed you a beverage of your choice.

"Thanks, Cheol," you replied, disinterested as usual.

Even before knowing about his intentions, you had kept a very clear emotional distance from Seungcheol for the past couple of years. You were sure he was aware that your crush had died down years ago, now leaving you completely indifferent towards him, but he never once brought it up. The most reaction you could gauge out of him was the way he deflated a bit every time you spoke to him and failed to show the same enthusiasm you once did.

"So, any plans this weekend?"

"Oh, yeah. Going on a date," you said nonchalantly.

This made him stop in his tracks, causing you to have to slow down your walking once again to turn back and look at him in feigned interest.

"A date? W-what, with who?", he spluttered, a frown making its way on his face.

"Just some guy I met on tinder," you responded, "C'mon, I need to get to class," you nudged him.

He took your instruction to keep walking, still frowning, "A guy from tinder? You don't even know him? I- Is your brother okay with this?"

"It's not really any of his business, now, is it?", you scoffed.

"Since when are you even dating anyway? I thought you needed time to 'find yourself'. Isn't that the whole reason you were gone for half a year?", grumbled Seungcheol.

"Not like it's any of your business, but yeah, I am dating. I'm 19, it's not like I've never dated. I went on dates while I was traveling. It's not that big of a deal."

"You dated? What? And you never told me?"

This made you stop in your tracks, turning to him and making him halt too.

"'Tell you'? Why would you need to know anything about my dating life? We're not even friends."

"Oh, so now we're not friends? I've known you literally since the day Jeonghan's parents brought you home and now we're not friends?", he was beginning to get agitated, you could tell.

Pushing his buttons was fun at first, but now you were also starting to feel frustration at his entitlement over you.

"As far as I can remember, we've never been friends. You just liked the attention I gave you and made a joke of me for years. Is that friendship to you?"

"We- we shouldn't talk about this here, okay?" he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, but saw that only a few other students were walking by, completely unsuspecting.

"You know what, Cheol? Thanks for the drink. I can get to class alone. I'll see you at home," you snatched your bag from his arms and marched away, leaving a confused Seungcheol behind.

"Cheol told me you guys got into a fight," was the first thing Jeonghan said as he walked into your workplace at 7:30 sharp in the morning.

"God, it's bad enough I have to live with the two of you, do you need to gossip about me too?"

"I told you about his crush in confidence! I can't believe you'd betray my trust like this," he said with zero emotion behind his words.

"No you didn't."

"No I didn't", he giggled, "Give me my usual, yeah?", he took a seat on the counter right in front of you, grabbing a nearby muffin to accompany the drink you were now making him.

"So you're really dating now?", he inquired after less than five seconds of silence.

"How much did Seungcheol tell you?"

"He gave me a rundown of the entire conversation."

You groaned at this. Men were truly the nosier gender.

"Yes, I'm going on a date with some guy from one of my classes tomorrow."

"I thought you said he was from tinder?"

"I just assumed it'd annoy Cheol even more if he thought I was choosing some random guy over him."

"That's mean", he pouted, followed by a grin, "Good job."

You handed him his drink and took a moment to sit down from your side of the counter, sighing dramatically at your brother.

"Are you really not interested in Cheol at all?", he rubbed at your arm to show comfort.

"I ... Maybe? I liked him for so long. It's hard for that to just go away, specially knowing he likes me back. But I can't just let him win me over so easily, you know?"

"Maybe you should talk to him? Let him explain his thought process and see if it's worth giving him a chance."

"Maybe," you sighed.

"Not 'maybe.' You're talking to him. Spending a single night with the two of you while you were icing each other out was enough for me. I told him I'd stay somewhere else tomorrow night so the two of you can talk after your date. It's a done deal."

"Dude! Can you stop making decisions for me? I-"

"I'm your older brother. It's in the fine print," he argued.

"Adoptiv-"

He grabbed the muffin and put it to your lips, interrupting your sentence, "That's enough of that."

You opted to just let him win (yet again) and mentally prepare yourself for your conversation with Seungcheol the following day.

Joshua.

That was the name of the guy you'd be going on a date with this afternoon.

He was cute, polite, smart, and seemed to be an overall great guy based on the few interactions you'd had with him during class. He was actually who you used to walk to class with before Seungcheol had intercepted your routine by forcing his way into your schedule.

You weren't particularly excited about going on this date. Joshua was the perfect guy by all means, but you didn't feel any type of spark when you were with him. You were pretty sure he didn't either. It was hard to tell. Nothing really compared to the way you felt for Seungcheol during the majority of your teens. You doubted you'd ever crush on someone so hard ever again.

You had never admitted it out loud, but you were pretty sure your crush on Seungcheol had at some point become love. You didn't just like Seungcheol, you (had) loved him, which made getting over your infatuation even harder. It had also made that unbecoming feeling of rejection much harder to let go of. The reminder of the constant rejection you had gone through was enough to not even entertain the idea of looking at Seungcheol with the same enamored eyes you always reserved for him ever again.

And so now you were getting ready for your date. Whether anything came of it didn't matter too much to you. You needed to show both Seungcheol and your brother that you were truly over Seungcheol. That you wouldn't fall for him when it was finally convenient for him.

~

The date was overall nice.

The two of you had opted for something casual, deciding to an arcade and have a casual meal that consisted of nachos and some convenience store ramen afterwards.

The date felt like an outing you'd have with any other friend. Maybe because that's what it actually was in the end.

It didn't take too much time into your date for both you and Joshua to say what you were thinking – You were better off as friends. You both chuckled at it, finding it comedic how you had both had the same thought, meaning there would be no hard feelings at the end of the day.

The night was spent playing games and bantering with one another. It was a casual and quite relaxing outing between two friends. Which is what left Joshua to inquire as to why you had asked him out in the first place as he walked you back to your apartment.

"There's, uh, this guy I'm trying to get over," you decided to be honest with him. You could really see a friendship forming here, plus he seemed like a trustworthy guy, so lying would be fruitless.

"Ah. Makes sense", he clicked his tongue, "Is it Choi Seungcheol by any chance?"

That caught you off guard. And it must've shown in your face, as Joshua chuckled in return before continuing.

"I've just noticed the two of you together a lot lately, that's all. What's the story?"

If only Joshua had known about the length of the story you were about to tell him, he likely would not have asked, but the simple question was enough to fire you up and let him in on every excruciating detail.

By the end of it, Joshua's face had gone through every reaction. From surprised, to angry (likely in empathy), to apprehensive.

"Well, he sounds like he was a dick in high school-"

"Right!"

"But ...."

"'But'?!"

"Listen. You were what, 15? Guys are so dumb at that age. I did my fair share of dumb things. And having a pretty girl be so into you at that age would give any guy a huge ego. Maybe he's being honest about his feelings," he had reasoned.

"Why is everyone on his side? What, am I supposed to just forgive him?"

"Of course not. But maybe part of you still likes him. You shouldn't let your pride get in the way of finally being with the guy you like."

That last statement had left you thinking.

You already had doubts about your feelings for Cheol, knowing that your conflict towards his newfound feelings was enough indication to realize that you might've still been holding a torch for him.

But it was his comment about pride that really had you reconsidering things.

Was it really just your pride stopping you from even giving Seungcheol a chance?

The way that you saw it, if you gave in to Seungcheol now that he finally liked you back, it only proved how weak you were for him, how easy it was for him to just snap his fingers and have you at his feet once again.

But you also needed to consider the fact that he had liked you since seventeen. You were both nineteen now, going on twenty. He had held back on his feelings for two years, hoping that you'd someday reciprocate once more. Clearly he wasn't hoping to use your old crush against you, or else he would've done so already.

These conflicting thoughts plagued your mind all the way until Joshua hugged you goodbye at your apartment door, while you were unaware of Seungcheol watching the two of you with a frown from the small window behind you, completely misreading the situation.

"Joshua Hong? That's the guy you're dating?", were the first words he said to you when you walked in, fully washed with venom and disdain.

This was starting off well.

"Were you spying on me?"

"You didn't answer my question," he rebutted.

You walked past him and let yourself fall back on the couch, sighing at the conversation you knew was awaiting.

"Cheol. Stop beating around the bush by snooping into my life," you started, the beating of your heart betraying the confidence in your voice, "Jeonghan told me you wanted to talk, so talk."

"Is there even a point? If you're already taken, do I even have a chance?", he chuckled bitterly, taking a seat across from you on a lone loveseat.

Oh.

This was the first time Seungcheol had ever acknowledged his romantic feelings towards you in the two years in which he's supposedly had them. It made you feel weak to admit it, but that statement alone already had your resolve melting.

"I- I'm not taken. Joshua and I are just friends."

"You came back home together at 10. You're wearing a skirt. I saw the two of you hug outside. Am I missing something?", he scoffed.

"Dude, I- What? Those are all completely platonic things. Not like you have any right to complain anyways .." you trailed off.

"Okay, if it's not a date then why did you tell me it was one on Wednesday? Huh?"

"Because I wanted you to know what it felt like!", you blurted, abruptly getting up from the couch.

"What? You-"

"It's not fair, Seungcheol! I liked you. For years. And you never looked my way. You made fun of me, you used me, you ignored me. I was just some dumbass who couldn't take a hint, and now you like me? Now you wanna know who I'm dating and who I like? Hah," you were halfway through your rambles before you realized it.

He got up from his spot and walked over to you, solemn and hurt look on his face. He seemed embarrassed by your statement, though also accepting of it.

"You- you're right. I never took you seriously. I ... I always just saw you as Jeonghan's weird little sister, I-"

"We're the same age!"

"Okay, but Jeonghan was always so protective towards you, I always thought of you as a little kid. I'm sorry, I know how harsh and unfair that sounds, but I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what changed, or when it did, but I- at some point I just couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathed out.

"Hah," you chuckled bitterly, "Was this when I changed my look, Cheol? Are you that shallow?"

"N-no! Listen, I know the timing was bad, but it wasn't that. I always thought you were pretty. I know you probably didn't see it for yourself, and ... I know my teasing probably didn't help your confidence, – and that's something I regret so badly – but you've always been beautiful. It had nothing to do with that, I swear," he held his hand to his chest as if to swear by his words.

You couldn't help blushing at his words, avoiding eye contact for a moment before responding.

"Then what was it?"

"I guess I just missed you", he shrugged sadly, "I got so used to having you around and to knowing how much I meant to you. I took you for granted, and I regretted it the moment I lost you," it was his turn to feel embarrassed, "When you stopped seeking me out, I finally began to see what you were like past your crush. You were so fun and carefree. So nice and, and beautiful. You saw me in rose-colored glasses and I just didn't see you at all. Not until then," he finished.

"What does this all mean, Cheol?" you said, almost exasperated, "Am I supposed to forget the way you'd mock me or just straight up ignore me for years? Yeah, sure, we were kind of beginning to become friends once high school was almost over, but it didn't mean anything to me by that point. I was just over it."

"And are you over me?"

"What?"

He lifted his eyebrow in question, taking a few steps towards you.

"Are you really completely over me? Do you feel nothing at all?", his eyes were confidently following your gaze as he questioned you.

"I- Yes, I am," you gulped unwillingly, taking a few steps back as he took some forward.

"I don't believe that. I mean, you left only for a few months and I never stopped thinking about you ... There's no way you got over me that suddenly, is there?"

"You think too highly of yourself, Cheol-"

"So you feel nothing at all?", he had made his way into your personal space by now, almost crowding you against the wall, "Aren't you curious, at least? Don't you wanna see if there's anything left?", he breathed out.

"I, Cheol, I-"

"Just tell me no. Push me away. Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave you alone," his gaze fell to your lips, slowly making its way back to your eyes again.

"I can't, I ... Cheol ..."

Due to your lack of rejection, Seungcheol closed the gap, gently pressing his lips against you as he let out a breath of relief in his kiss.

You'd kissed a few boys during your time away. Hell, you'd even kissed Joshua earlier today, but neither of those experiences had felt quite like this. During all those exchanges, Seungcheol had always somehow been in the back of your mind, making you wonder what it would've been like if he had been the guy you were kissing instead. Now you finally knew what it was like ... And you were already growing addicted.

It was only a few seconds into the kiss when the two of you let your desire for the other take over. He groaned against your lips as you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his face as close to your own as possible. His hands ran down to your waist and caressed your back in a way far too desperate for the first kiss shared between the two of you.

With no words, he kissed you until running out of breath, eventually lowering his head so he could attack your neck with licks and nips to the sensitive skin on there. You leaned your head to the side, allowing him more room to suck into as he rejoiced in your sighs of pleasure.

It was a mutual exchange. The two of you seemed to be equally desperate for the other, your wandering hands never halting in the exploration of the other's body. His hands eventually dared to venture under your top, slowly sneaking their way towards your breasts. He kissed your lips once more as his hands caressed and played with your tits, moaning against your mouth every time you'd whine at his touches.

"Angel ...", he breathed against your lips, "Are you still sure? Are you still sure you don't want me?", his words were slightly muffled by his inability to disconnect from you for more than a second.

"I need- fuck, Cheol ... Just-"

"I know ... It's okay. You don't have to say it," he pushed his tongue into your mouth once again.

Cheol separated from you and led you to your room by your hand, closing the door before pressing you up against it and kissing you again.

The way he kissed you was nothing but sensual and full of emotion, making you forget any complaint you had against him as his lips connected to yours again and again.

His hands took advantage of your caged in position, feeling up every curve and squeezing at his favorite parts. There was a depraved urgency behind his movements, almost as if he had been aching to do this; burning to finally have you to his full disposition. When he seemingly had his fill of caressing every inch, he pulled away barely enough to speak (which had been a feat, as your lips desperately followed his, and his own were unable to resist yours at first).

"Let me take you to bed," be begged, "I've wanted you for years. Please, let me have you," he plead against your lips, giving you a languid peck as he finished his request.

"Cheol ..."

He pulled away a bit more at the hesitancy in your voice, "I know I was an asshole. I know I hurt you for years. I know I don't deserve you," he took a deep breath before intensely looking into your eyes, "but I can't stop thinking about you. If you ever felt even an ounce of what I've felt towards you since we were seventeen, then I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain. I was a stupid teenager who felt too cool to look your way long enough to realize you were far too good for me. Please. Please, I'll beg if you want me to , just ... Give me a chance," he finished with a pained expression in his eyes, voice wavering by the end of his speech.

"You made me feel like such an idiot, like-"

"I'm the idiot – Me! You're perfect," he grabbed onto your hands and brought them up to his lips, "I love you. So much. Jeonghan's so fed up of hearing me tell him how in love with you I am. All my friends know how I feel about you. I'll embarrass myself time and time again proving it to you," dropping your hands, he wrapped his arms around you again, bringing you closer to him as his eyes dropped to your lips.

That had been a shock.

You had never expected for Seungcheol's feelings to be anything more than superficial, much less did you expect for him to confess to you in such a way. The thought of him gushing about you to his friends was enough to make you blush, but knowing that he was willing to prove his feelings for you as much as you saw fit made you weak at the knees. This was all you had ever wanted, tenfold. If your current reaction to his revelation was anything to go by, then you were now realizing that your feelings for him had never truly gone away. You had carried a torch for Seungcheol all these years, even when you thought you had completely gotten over him. Even when you weren't thinking of him, he was always plaguing your mind.

And so you kissed him.

You put all previous hesitancy aside and followed your desires, pulling him to you as you let passion take over.

He didn't question you, choosing to press you up against him instead, blindly walking the two of you towards your bed and laying you down in it, crawling on top of you once more to keep kissing you.

No words were exchanged for a while, the only sounds filling up the room were made up of your collective moans and the ruffling of the bedsheets – result of the way you were feeling each other up. You were glad Jeonghan had decided to stay elsewhere tonight. Hell, he probably knew the two of you would snap and end up in the way you evidently did.

Pulling away for a quick moment, Seungcheol pulled away and threw off his shirt, causing the cloudiness in your mind to clear up for a moment so you could lean up and run your hands through his bare chest, earning a chuckle from him.

"Like what you see?", he smirked like the cockiest shit you'd ever seen, except it kinda worked on you regardless.

But you couldn't let him have the upper hand here, so you did what any sensible girl would do and threw off your own top, leaving you in a pretty lacy bralette.

The smirk wiped off his face immediately as his eyes lowered to your breasts. To make matters worse for him, you decided to sensually pull off your bra, making a little show out of it just to see how much lust would overtake him at the sight.

"Fuck ...", he muttered, leaning down so he could get his hands on you.

You stopped him before he could, however. Smirking at him, "You have to ask, Cheollie."

"Angel ... Don't play this with me."

"Ask, or else you can't touch me."

"I- Fuck. Please. Can I touch them?," he breathed out, eyes still glued to your chest as you played with your own mounds just to mock him.

You nodded, taking his arms and leading them to your chest.

He took full advantage of this, feeling you up like a starved man devouring his last meal. His mouth joined in on the fun soon after, kissing and licking at your nipples, groaning whenever your hands would pull at his hair.

He undressed the rest of you during the following minutes, making quick work of your shoes, his own, and your skirt. His pants were the last to go, leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

"Help me take it off?", he led your hands to his hardened cock, hooking your fingers on his boxers so you could get them off for him. You pulled his face down to your own and sucked on his tongue as your other hand aided him in removing his boxers. He did the same to your panties, finally crawling on top of you again, with your bare crotches finally facing one another.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he breathed against your lips, beginning a slow grind against your cunt.

You ground against each other like animals in heat for a while, losing your breaths with the other's lips. The way his hardened length graced your folds with the perfect friction had you getting wetter by the second, making you wail against his lips.

"Can I eat you out, baby?," he groaned into your mouth, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Y-yes, fuck," you cried.

He kissed at your nude body on his way down, licking and sucking splotches of red and purple wherever he could until reaching your thighs, using his strong arms to open them and wedge himself between them.

"God ... Been dreaming of kissing up these thighs for years. You're so fucking gorgeous, do you even know?", he sounded pained as he said so, pressing soft kisses at the softest part of your thighs, "Dreamt about you since were seventeen," he blew cold air into your cunt, causing you to retract a bit.

"Cheol ..."

"Is this how you felt? Huh? Did you want me just as badly as I did you?", he finally gave you an experimental lick, groaning at the taste, "But you never got over me, did you? That's good," he nodded to himself, licking more and more, "That way I get to keep you," and that was all he could say before his mouth became fully occupied by your cunt.

And he was right. Even as your crush died down, you got older and began to have thoughts about him. Thoughts that accompanied you on the many lonely nights while you were abroad and away from him. During all those nights in which you swore you were over him. It was nice to know that you'd had a similar effect on him these past few years.

You didn't have much time to ponder about it as Seungcheol quite literally lost himself between your legs. His arms proved to be as strong as they looked, forcing your legs open even as the stimulation made you try and close them around his head. His groans of pleasure against your weeping cunt did not help matters, simply leading you to your end all the faster.

"Fucking delicious, fuck. No one's ever had this before, right, beautiful? You've been saving this cunt for me? Hmm?", he slurred his words while he made out with your pussy, groaning once more when you whimpered in confirmation, "Need to taste you, angel. Cum for me, fuck. Wanna be the first one to feel you like this," he rambled, delirious on your taste.

And you were equally as delirious, falling apart for him almost as if your body had been following his direction. He continued to make sinful sounds against your cunt as he tasted you all through your high, making you even more lightheaded than you already were.

Giving you no time to recover, Seungcheol climbed atop you once more and made you swallow any words you may have had by sealing your lips with his own, forcing your the remnants on your taste onto your own tongue. You battled each other like this once more, hands careless as they grabbed at one another in desperation.

"C-condom?", be pulled away to ask.

"No, Cheol. I- You don't carry?", you managed to let out.

"I, No. I- I've never ..."

He looked uncharacteristically bashful, making you tilt your head in curiosity. Until it hit you.

"You're a virgin?"

He pulled away at this, sitting up a bit on the bed and creating a small distance between the two of you.

"It's not- I've done stuff before, just not ... this. I, uh, I was waiting for you," he confessed, forcing his eyes away from your gaze.

This broke your heart, but in a good way.

If you had any remnants of doubt in your mind about his sincerity about his crush, they were gone now. He had waited. For you. He wanted you to be his first, so he waited for you to come back. He waited for you to like him again. In the same way you had never seriously dated anyone before, he waited.

"Cheol ..."

He must've misinterpreted your tone, as he continued to refuse eye contact with you, seemingly embarrassed at being a virgin for some reason.

So you took matters into your hands, grabbing onto him with a confident hand and pulling him into you once more. With some unexpected strength, you managed to switch positions with him, now straddling him as his back laid against your mattress.

Before he could question you, you kissed him again, this time with a passion you knew you could only reserve for Seungcheol. He kissed you back with equal want, making you feel like you'd reached a stage of nirvana no one had ever before. Every emotion behind the kiss was far too intense to even describe.

The rest of the exchange was almost wordless, with a few silences being filled by praise for one another. You finally sat yourself down on him, condomless, but not regretful at all for your decision. If you were to ever let anyone impale you without filter, it'd be him.

The bruises he left on your hips were accepted with delight. It was only fair, seeing as your nails also left marks on his chest. The two of you left your mark on the other; a silent way of letting the other know who they belonged to.

You bounced and ground on top of him, almost wailing at the way in which his hands guided your movements in such a desperate way. At some point you began shamelessly humping against each other, filling the space with depraved sounds of pleasure.

Cheol looked down to the spot connecting you, groaning upon seeing the wetness seeping from your cunt, but decidedly bringing a hand towards your mound in order to toy with your clit. The arch of your back and extra tightness of your cunt were enough for his orgasm to approach more rapidly than planned.

"With me," he rasped, "Cum with me ... Need your first time to be with me. Just like this."

You barely registered his words. Your eyes were already rolled back, and your back arched almost to the point of breaking. Your toes completely curled and your nails digging into his reddened chest. But you understood, and your body acted accordingly, bringing you into orgasm as he softly counted you down, leading to an almost perfectly synchronized high.

A few moments of comfortable silence (sans the heavy breathing) went by before Seungcheol carefully pulled out of you with a low groan and did his best at cleaning you up with some kleenex near your bed. He gave you a soft peck after he was done, settling the two of you under the covers and held you in his arms.

"Always wanted this part too."

"Hmm?"

"To hold you like this", he clarified, smiling down at you.

Blushing involuntarily, you agreed, cuddling further into his warm chest, leading him to softly run his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner.

"I meant everything I said. I'll always regret treating you the way I did. There's no reason why you should, but I hope you'll forgive me," he sounded pained at his own words, likely feeling genuine hatred for the way in which he behaved during your early teenage years.

You pulled away from his chest, creating a small distance between you so you could look into his eyes properly.

"Seungcheol, I ... I love you," you started, "And I forgive you. I was wrong to judge you so harshly for not liking me the way I wanted you to back then. I'm sorry for letting my pride get in the way. I shouldn't have iced you out after I got over you. It was the only way at the time to protect myself from the rejection and-"

"Stop," he went to hold your cheeks in his hands, "You have nothing to apologize for. You forgiving me is all I wanted, and ... and knowing you feel the same is more than I was ever expecting. We'll move past all that, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded sweetly.

"Now ... Is it too soon to ask you to be official?"

"You waited until after popping my cherry to ask me out?", you laughed.

"In my defense ..."

"You have none!"

"Okay, whatever! Just say yes so Jeonghan doesn't continue to suffer through my rants about how much I like his sister," he pulled you into his arms again, returning your laughter.

"Fine! Yes! We're official," you feigned annoyance, but were unable to not mimic his own smile.

It had taken far too long, but you finally had the upper hand. He liked you. He asked you out. He was yours. The wait had been worth it.

To read short 2k word continuation u can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, penetrative sex, deprived cheol, banter with jeonghan, etc.

wc: 989 (teaser); 2009 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Okay, I need the two of you to get the hell out of my apartment."

That had been the way in which Jeonghan welcomed the two of you upon walking in on you and Seungcheol calmly watching a movie together in your shared living room.

It had now been three months since you and Seungcheol began officially dating. Since you were roommates, this also meant that you were now living with your boyfriend. Despite the fact that Cheol and your brother shared a room together (leaving you with a room of your own), Seungcheol still had the tendency of spending a few nights per week sleeping over at your room.

So far, the dynamic between the three of you hadn't changed too much. The biggest difference was that now you and Seungcheol finally developed more of a friendship than you had during the period of time between high school and college in which you had begun to ice him out in order to protect your own feelings. That, however, died down as soon as you moved in, eventually leading to your current romantic relationship with each other.

Jeonghan had been happy for you, having known that if he forced the two of you (and subsequently left you two alone in the apartment) to talk, you'd inevitably end up confessing your feelings and finally getting together. He had seen it coming since middle school, he had said. It only took about six years for his matchmaking to come into fruition, but it led to some pretty interesting slowburn – his words, not yours.

In these past three months, however, some awkward moments had arisen.

Being your brother, Jeonghan always found it uncomfortable whenever he happened to be around when you and Seungcheol would do couple activities. Seeing you hang out was fine, obviously, but a few weird instances had already left him traumatized.

So far, he had walked in on you making out a total of five times, feeling each other up over your clothes two times, Seungcheol making eyes at you seven times, had come across your discarded underwear three times, and had even walked in on you having sex once. At some point a line had to be drawn, and apparently he had chosen that to he now.

"Dude, you're the one who wanted us to get together," you argued.

"I wanted the mutual pining to stop, not to almost walk in on my sister getting railed every other day. Leave!," he said, though he simply sat down on the couch, forcibly creating a wedge between you and Cheol.

"Let's just go to your room, babe," Seungcheol got up, taking your hand while giving Jeonghan a dirty look, "Nuance," he grumbled.

"You're the nuance," responded Jeonghan, though already immersed with the popcorn and TV he had stolen from you.

Seungcheol led you to your room, closing the door behind you and instantly turning to you.

"Hi, baby," he whispered, holding you close to him.

"Hi," you giggled at him.

He leaned down to kiss you, his hands on the small of your back and pressing you up against him. His lips were basically on yours before Jeonghan's sudden voice made the two of you jump back in surprise.

"Don't have sex! I swear to God, if I hear the two of you having sex one more time, I'm evicting you! Just sleep like normal people!," he had yelled from the living room.

He had a bit of a point. The walls were relatively thin here, and you weren't exactly quiet when you had sex.

Seungcheol groaned and buried his face in your neck, "Baby, will you still love me if I kill your brother?"

"I'll love you even more," you pouted.

He snickered, removing his head from your neck and giving you a singular peck on your lips, "C'mon, let's go to sleep."

~

The two of you had initially thought that Jeonghan's complaint about you having sex had been a fluke. You believed that maybe he was stressed that day and that he hadn't meant what he said when he stated that he did not want the two of you to sleep together anymore. However, his words proved to be more literal throughout the following week.

Any time the two of you were so much as together, Jeonghan would groan and complain, saying that if he caught the two of you doing anything less than PG, he would cause 'any trouble possible to stop it' (his own words). It was beginning to frustrate you, but your frustration could not compare to that of Seungcheol's.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm really doing it this time," he said decidedly, hearing Jeonghan's incessant attempts to interrupt whatever was going on behind your closed door.

"Babe-"

"I just want to have sex with you! It's been over a week since I've had you, I'm going insane", he pulled at his scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but he just-"

"Babe, I don't think you understand. I'm hard every day. Even seeing you gets me going by now. I can't do this anymore! Any time I try to touch you, he's there somehow!"

The manic look in his eyes spoke for itself. And it was true. Seungcheol's constant blue balling this past week and a half had him growing aroused at the mere sight of you in shorts. It was flattering, but it was beginning to affect you too. Knowing how badly he wanted you made you weak at the knees, causing the two of you to grow incredibly frustrated at your brother's antics.

You realized now that maybe you shouldn't have been so liberal in sleeping together while living with your brother. You should have known he would snap sooner or later, no matter how much he had rooted for the two of you to get together.

You wondered how this would end up playing out, because the two of you were already beyond breaking.

...

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The Summoned Demon Part 4

#Holiday Requests I would love updates to Child Support, The Summoned Demon, and Passion For Fashion

Danny had no idea where he was.

No one around him could understand what he was saying, and he couldn't read anything either. After running through the suburbs, Danny had made his way on foot into the large city. There was nothing familiar about where the cults had summoned him to.

Everything looked wrong. The clothes, the cars, the street ads, and even the people. He stood on the side of a corner, attempting to make heads or tails of his surroundings, but people passed by him like water in a river.

It must have been the fact he was covered in dirt.

Thankfully, a group of teens had been willing to stop his frantic shouting. One girl had snapped her fingers, then waved rectangular screens at him- What was that thing?- speaking into it.

The rectangular screen spoke in what he thinks is a different language, but not anything Danny could understand. Her face fell but she seemed determined to get him to talk into her rectangle. When he did, it gave her soft buz like the ones that are played on game shows where a constant gets a wrong answer.

The girl had looked at her companions, utterly lost, until one of them stepped forward and started playing charades. There were a lot of vague hand motions and desperate gestures when he attempted to explain his situation, and the children were able to direct him to the police station.

No one on staff was able to translate what he was saying. However, they did seem mighty alarmed by how he was covered in dirt and speaking a foreign language. They had given him some water and a change of clothes and sat him in a room with a two-way mirror. Danny felt safe knowing the authorities were on his side, sipping his water at the little table while he waited.

Time moved slowly when more and more police officers entered, attempting to establish communication with him. They placed a list of writing in front of him, each line a different symbol, and he knew they were meant to be a language.

The aging man with white streaks dusting his red hair adjusted his glasses, then pointed to the first sentence on the list. Danny said something slowly, patting his chest with an open palm, then pointing more determinedly at the line.

"Is that your language?" Danny asks, scanning the lines and realizing he can't read one. He shakes his head "I'm sorry I don't understand."

The old man frowns then stands. He places a chocolate bar on the table- or what Danny thinks is one, he can't read what it says, and it's quickly frustrating- before heading out of the room. A few more minutes go by when a man wearing one of the police uniforms but a long, more outdated one walks through the door.

Danny blinks up at him as the man carefully considers his face. He avoids looking at the bullet holes decorating the cop's chest. "Wow, you seem pretty young. Wonder what you did to get old Gordon to personally question you?"

Danny chances to look at the two-way mirror before muttering. "I didn't do anything, sir. I got kidnapped."

The man turns around, arms still folded over his chest, but the second he realizes the door has remained firmly shut, he whirls around, gawking at Danny. "You can see me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm half ghost on my mother's side." He jokes but still maintains a level of respect. The Fentons joked around often, but they always respected those in service until the person proved unworthy of the uniform.

"Holy shit!" The policeman laughs. "I don't think you can pass down the family tree like that kid."

Danny cracks a smile. "You be surpirse."

"Guess I am. Who knew I would be shocked twice after my death?!" The man's jolly laugh makes Danny relax just a little. He doesn't even mind that the ghost's heaving chest is splatting a few drops of red on the table. "Haven't laughed like that in years. By the way, kid, my name is Alex. Alex Anderson."

"I'm Danny Fenton." Danny smiles, offering his hand for a shake. Alex hesitates, reaching out only to have his face brighten when he makes solid contact and eagerly pumps their joint limbs up and down. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Alex claps his hands, settling- somewhat as he goes slightly through the metal- in the chair opposite Danny. He laces his fingers under his chin and offers another impish grin. "So what's this about a kidnapping?"

Danny straightens, rapidly recapping his last few days. Alex doesn't interrupt, listening with an intensity that tells Danny he's being taken seriously even if he's still smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world. When Danny is done, he has to take a breath and top off his drink as Alex considers his words.

"That's a rough couple of days, Kid," Alex says at the end, leaning more on his hands. Danny nods sadly, feeling utterly exhausted. He's not sure where the nice older man went, but no one had come to check up on him for a while, and he's starting to feel cagy.

Alex considers him a little longer before throwing his head back with a sigh. "Alright. I guess I need to help you escape. I feel too guilty if I just let Gordon hand you over."

"What?"

Alex stands, pretending to stretch his arms over his head. He nods to the two-way mirror, clicking his tongue at it. "Yeah, Gordon called Batman a while ago when they were trying to figure out your language. This place will be swarming with vigilantes and their magic users any minute now."

"Batman?" Danny repeats, rising to his feet. "What's Batman?"

"The guy who put you in that cave cage." Alarm fills Danny's veins as he realizes that this whole time, the police were setting him up to be returned to the cultist. Was the entire city in on this!? "Normally, I wouldn't be making deals with people Gordon deems unsafe, but given that you're half ghost, I've chosen to ignore my morals in solitary."

"But why?! Why would they give me back to them!?" He demands, rising to his feet and backing away until his back hits a wall.

"I was Gordon's first partner," Alex tells him, gesturing at his chest. "I died to make sure the idiot got back to his wife and kids. Ever since he's done everything he could to make Gotham safe. As much as Batman makes me uneasy, he is doing a good job cleaning this place up and doing what I can't do anymore. I'm trapped inside this building, but I've seen the bats plenty of times, so I know they are not dangerous. I also know they will not shoot first or ask questions later; this is your only chance to get away until you can establish communication. Take it."

Alex gestures to the wall behind Danny. "Can you faze through?"

Danny lets himself sink through the stone just as the door is kicked up, and three cops rush in with raised guns. He ends up in another interrogation room- because that's where he was. They had not placed him somewhere safe; they had set him up for capture- where a man handcuffed to the table screams. Danny apologizes desperately, trying to get the guy to stop yelling, as Alex yanks him by the collar of his shirt.

"No time for manners, Kid! You have to get out of the building. Bat's just landed on the roof!" Danny races through the walls, ignoring the people who shout and scatter at his sight until Alex leads him straight out of the building. The ghost stops behind a window, where chains had manifested and wrapped around him, preventing him from going forward.

Alex doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he points in a direction. "Head that way until you see a giant clown. The Joker is currently in custody, but there are thousands of ghosts in his old hideout. Someone is bound to know what to do. If that fails follow the road with the white bricks to Old Gotham. Lots of Magic rooted there. Maybe you'll find something."

"How do you know that?"

"My mom was a professional card reader. I inherited some of her ability to sense the paranormal, and trust me when I say Old Gotham always felt cursed." Alex pauses before tilting his head. "If you ever get to talk to Gordon, tell him I forgive him. And the key to our treasure is at our old hideout. Tell him I still love him even if he picked her."

Danny's eyes fill with water. "I promise."

"Good." There was a loud thump as a man in a trench coat raced down the hallway, aiming his glowing hands at Danny. Alex threw himself before the bright yellow beam, spreading his arms wide as he made a shield. For a second, Danny's vision overlaps with a similar image of Alex blocking a young redhead man in the same position. "Now go, Kid!"

Danny shifts into Phantom, flying at his top speed without further comment. Behind him, he hears someone with a British accent swear, and Alex's cries of pain nearly cause him to forge turn intangible when he flies through traffic.

There had to be some way he could find a living person who understood him

_____________________________________________________

"What happened?" Bruce demands as John pushes something in a jar. Since it looks like an impressive mime trick, he's fairly sure it's actually a ghost causing problems for the Brit.

"Bloody demon had help from a human soul," The blond grunted, grabbing at the air. "Stubborn one that seemed convinced it was helping a child."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce feels his eyebrow twitch but remains impassive overall. Right now, he's Batman, and Batman does not let emotions cloud his mind. "Why would a ghost think it was helping a child? Demons can't hide their nature from paranormals. John, are we chasing a child?"

"Normally, I would say, yeah, the thing is a child, but this one isn't your average spook. It's powerful. You saw it, right? The demon shifted forms, and I couldn't even see its second form until the two bright rings of light. If it could fool me into thinking the human flesh suit was its real form, it can easily fool a ghost."

"If it's so powerful," Tim cuts in, walking towards the pair with a floating hologram from his wrist. The integration room security camera plays on it, displaying the demon calmly sipping water. "Then why didn't it escaped before? All it did for three hours before Gordon was alerted was wait."

John frowns at the camera, sealing the jar with a wax melt. "That is odd. Normally, things on that power level do everything, but be calm."

Bruce didn't like this. They had lost something powerful in his city; it had evaded detection only to waltz right into custody, where it had just as easily escaped. They had also confirmed that the demon was visiting the children previously offered to him as sacrifice.

In fact, when Steph interviewed her, the teenager insisted that the demon seemed lost and frightened.

First, there was young Jack, then Molly, who had attempted to help him with a translation app. The girl didn't seem to consider otherworldly language was untransltable. She behaved as if the demon with its harsh, raspy voice and chilling presence was not there to harm her.

Which one was the truth? His experts of the supernatural or the signs that the possible demon was dropping. That it was just a lost child terrified out of his mind?

Bruce had too many questions and not nearly enough to get any kind of answers. They needed to capture the boy again.

[godslino]

HARD LAUNCH | minho drabble. established relationship.

“Do you guys have french fries?”

“Minho.” you hiss, nudging his shin beneath the table.

He cocks an eyebrow before turning back to the waitress. She smiles softly, laughing at the two of you. 

“We do, yes.” 

“Wonderful,” Minho grins, “We’ll have a side order of those too.”

“Perfect. I’ll put that in for you guys and check back soon.” The waitress says happily, collecting the menus and scurrying off to tend to another table.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Minho chuckles, shakes his head probably. You wouldn’t know since you can’t see him.

“Do what?”

Still using one hand to cover your eyes, you pull the other away, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “I told you I’d be fine. Why’d you have to ask for french fries? That’s so embarrassing.”

Minho hums. Unbothered. “You know what’s worse?”

“Literally nothing.” you mumble, returning your other hand to your face. It only serves to muffle your voice more. “This is humiliating. We’re in a nice restaurant and you ordered french fries because of me. Oh God. I’m going to hide in the bathroom.”

A good choice, you think. Minho’s in god damn slacks for crying out loud. Every second that passes is another second that your pity order of french fries is probably spending in the deep fryer, right next to the lobster tail and shrimp tartar that everyone else has a mature enough palate to eat. 

Before you can move to get up and make a beeline for the toilet, you feel Minho’s fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling until your hands give way to your face. You crack one eye open and then the other, his amused expression coming into view.

“What’s worse than ordering french fries is me knowing you’ll be hungry if there isn’t something familiar for you on the table.” he says pointedly, like your reason for feeling embarrassed is unnecessary. “Besides, who said I didn’t want any?”

“Min, look around,” you say, turning your head to glance at the room, “The napkins are cloth. Cloth! Nicer than my bed sheets. We can’t be seen eating french fries in a place like this. I told you I’d be—”

“—fine. Because as long as you’re here I can do anything.” Minho recites, word for word, cutting you off. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, spreads like wildfire when Minho smiles and leans on to his forearms. His button up tightens over his shoulders, hugs his arms, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Just like how you’re doing this for me, let me do something for you.” 

You and Minho have been seeing each other for four months now, but even at that, you’re still not used to his straightforwardness. 

Seeing Minho has been nothing short of a dream. What started as just interacting at parties because of mutual friends eventually gave way to him asking for your number, and then hanging out separate from your friend group, until one day he plucked up the courage to ask you out. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable, always spending every free moment together. Laughing, talking, even sometimes just existing in the same space. It’s nice. So, so nice.

“Shouldn’t I be the one blushing right now?” Minho teases.

“Shut up.” you say, tearing your gaze away from him.

He laughs again before reaching out and placing a hand on top of yours. Soft. Minho is unbelievably soft.

It’s the thing you love the most about him. But more than that, more than the delicate skin of his fingers or the brush of his lips against yours, you love the softness of his eyes.

Minho is hard to crack, his emotions shrouded most of the time. Not that he wants to be, but because that’s just how he operates, or so you’ve learned. 

But despite all of that, his eyes are a dead giveaway. When he’s looking at pictures of his cats, or staring at you from across the room, or right now as steaming plates of some of the finest cuisine Seoul has to offer are being placed in front of him.

“Holy shit.” he whispers, staring in awe as the waitress walks away from the table.

“Is it rude for me to take a picture? Like, would anyone get offended?” 

Minho scoffs. “Babe, I would be offended if you didn’t document this right now.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pulling out your phone.

“Do I get to be in it this time?”

You look up to find Minho pouting across the table. Another thing about your relationship— nobody knows yet. 

You’ve been teasing about the possibility of a boyfriend for two months now, you and Minho only having made it official about a few weeks ago. The most anyone has been able to see are carefully positioned photos where only his hand or other inconspicuous parts of him are visible.

It’s not that you don’t want people to know. It’s just hard with his job and all. Privacy reasons.

"For someone who likes to claim that people won't give me a hard time because of your fame you sure do seem eager to test that theory."

Minho smiles mischievously. “Well, yes. But I’m also waiting because I want to show you off.”

You busy yourself with opening your camera app to stop the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. You big flirt.”

Minho laughs but obliges, scoots back to let you get a good few pictures of the food. 

Photos aren’t enough to do it justice, though. So you opt for a video, scanning the table with your camera, only the bottom half of his torso visible across the table. A silk white button up only three-fourths of the way buttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Minho watches silently, his face unreadable. And then, at the last second, he dips his head down so fast you don’t even realize what’s happening until his face is fully in the shot, a shit-eating grin pushing his eyes into crescent moons.

“Min!” you laugh, ending the recording. 

He chuckles, straightening back out. “Post it.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, but I’m going to be if you don’t post it and then eat with me.” He nudges the plate of french fries towards you. “Come on.”

“You really want me to post it? You’re sure?”

Minho smiles. Soft. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.” he says, neither of you willing to address the weight of his words.

He grabs your hand, plants a kiss on the back of your knuckles. The resulting flip of your stomach is enough to give you the courage to hit post and tuck your phone away.

Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it later. Together.

[ tags: @102598s @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @palindrome969 @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @astronomicallyyy @doohnut @linocz @romancerry @djeniryuu @pinkpunkdynamite @pynchkilledme @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @liknws @beeracha @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[cornerstoreclown]

Workshop Fun

Summary: This is a short one-shot (7021 words) where the Reader (female) has an established relationship with Art the Clown, and has been kiiiind of collaborating with him passively. Reader is wearing a dress for the sole purpose of easy access. Reader has a vulva and breasts. 

Contents: Biting, light spanking, ...phone... sex? Having an unknowing participant on the other line is the only way I can word it, light spanking, lots of making out, clothed sex, BDSM, Art being cruel, p in v penetration, finger sucking and light body worship

Author’s notes: Sorry what took me so long to do this, I’ve been sitting on this for years! Male version will be out in a few days. This is LIGHTLY proofread, so keep your expectations at a level where you won’t be surprised if there’s any mistakes. Also once again I am an Art the Clown front zipper truther for my clothed sex kink.

——————————————————      

You loved him.

Did he kill people? Yes. Did he sometimes allude to killing you as well? Absolutely. Has he acted on it yet? Not fully, but you could tell that sometimes he had that compulsion to go through with it, when he’d get that twinkle in his eye.

 Especially when you were up close and personal with him, your bodies merely inches apart, sometimes with him even holding a weapon in hand. He’s a wild animal. A force of evil locked away in the confines of a corporeal body made of flesh and bone.

And yet, all the same, you loved him. The way that his hands would travel across your flesh and explore the parts of you that you never let anyone else. Sometimes he’d leave bruises, other times scratches. Then there were the bite marks. Each intimate encounter would leave you in a different state of mess. He was the lover who was like a cat. One day he’d be here, gone the next. You couldn’t put a thumb on the patterns.

The waits were long, but you’re loyal, and you’re patient. You didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. You’d wait until the ends of the earth for him. Sometimes during the months that he wasn’t here, you’d dream of him. All of these little fantasies you’d have in your head would sometimes come to visit you behind your closed lids, where reality had no limitations. It would make the ache feel less. Every time that he’d come back, you made sure to find him as quickly as possible the second you heard whisperings pertaining to sightings of him, or any kind of crime scene that felt like it had his signature on it. Sometimes he’d find you first.

Art wasn’t someone who was very materialistic. And money meant next to nothing to Art—the personification of evil had very little need for the vast kinds of desires that plagued man.

But he wasn’t necessarily immune to the pleasures of the flesh, you learned. Despite how for the most part, he remained heavily uninterested in intimacy, he had a few moments here and there, and you capitalized on them when you could. You had a feeling tonight would be one of those nights.

Or, well, you hoped.

Worst case scenario he’d turn you away or ignore any advances, and he has a few times. And that was okay.

You came into his hideout tonight with confidence instilled in you, but yet the excitement still makes your stomach do flips. It’s been too long, and the fire within your chest is reignited. You feel passion, you feel love so strong that it’s enough to keep you up at night, and it has happened plenty of times before. You wonder if he’s got some sort of spell over you, and you’d believe it if that were the case. You’ve never fallen so madly, deeply, for anyone before like you have him. It could be enough to make you physically ill if you thought about how much you loved him. Such a passion came with such a detriment to you.

Past the damaged doors of a since abandoned fairly abandoned warehouse, you have a smooth descent down the stairs, leading you to a type of basement setting. There’s plenty of water dripping. Rats squeaking as they chitter and skitter along. You catch glimpses of them in the dim lighting, but they don’t bother you. As long as you didn’t see a bunch of them with their tails tied together, you wager you’ll be pretty okay.

You dressed up nicely for him tonight.

You weren’t really a dress kind of person, but tonight you made it an exception. It wasn’t fancy or over the top, and by the love of god, it had pockets. You refused to wear heels however, whatever shoes you had that worked and didn’t give you the possibility of breaking your ankle down these flights of stairs was the option you went with. Art might have found it funny if you hurt yourself, but you aren’t too keen on getting yourself dinged up before he gets the chance to do it himself.

The dress was about one thing–accessibility. Easy to lift up, easy for him to slide in right where he belonged.

You loved when he was inside of you, when you’d feel the heat of his heavy breath against the back of your neck. You run your hands over the spot where you last remember feeling the warmth of his breath. You remember being beneath him and feeling as if the very heat that he quietly exhaled felt as if it were smoldering your skin, burning you like the way the flames of hell were supposed to. If being with this clown meant that you’d be burning in the afterlife, you’d gladly bathe yourself in the inferno.

Your stomach flutters.

You shouldn’t be this excited. He’s a murderer. A killer. A man with no morals, and you’re not even sure if he was a man sometimes at all. Yet, his darkness is what drew you in. He was your safe space, and no one would dare come into that space to try and harm you so long as you were in his arms.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you see it–a single dangling light, and illuminating this dark space is a double door that is plainly rusted. You see a bloody handprint on it. It’s since dried.

You recognize the size of that hand, and feel slightly lighter, just in the moment.

Placing your own hand in the exact space over Art’s bloodied print, you push the door open. The door is a little on the heavy side, but with enough force, the door opens.

“Art?” You call out, making sure that your presence is acknowledged as friendly and not hostile. The room is a little darkly lit, very heavy on the minimum lighting that’s needed to navigate in the space. It most certainly added to the creepy ambiance. Straight ahead, there sat none other than Art. His back was given to you. He was sitting on a stool, hammering away at something on his workbench. He turns his head upon hearing his name, and you see that he gives you a smile, baring his rotted discolored teeth as his eyes are closed. You can see the wrinkles form a little in the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

You liked that. You liked the details etched into his face. It added character among those otherwise gaunt features of his.

“Hey, buddy.” You call out to him, and he gives you a little wave, before gesturing for you to come closer.

You approach him, and once you’re near the bench with him, you can see when you’re close enough that he gives you a once over, assessing you… Judging you, for what it is you’re wearing tonight.

“Like it?” You ask him, twirling from side to side so that your dress splays out a little. It’s simple. Gets the job done. And if it got ruined? No love loss.

Art’s gaze seems fixed on you, first on your dress, then up at you. For a man who doesn’t speak, his eyes seem to say all that needs to be said, as he reaches for the end of your dress and starts to lift it, until you gently smack the top of his hand. Art draws his hand back to his side immediately, glancing up at you, looking a little like a kid that was chided.

Naughty of him, trying to get a sneak peek beforehand.

“Not yet,” You tell him.

Art looks a little irritated, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. At least he seems interested tonight.

You clear your throat, and Art’s attention is still locked on you. He’s watching you expectantly.

“You’ve settled in quite nicely.” It was just yesterday you surveyed the area on his behalf, and helped him move in properly. Already on his workbench, he has got quite a few improvised weapons he’d been working on. Your eyes go to one weapon in particular, and you point at it.

“What’s that?”

Art turns to look at the weapon you’ve pointed out, and when he lifts it to proudly show it, it’s exactly what it looked like–an improvised flail. Attached to a long metal rod, is a long wire, and when your eyes follow to the end of the wire, you see wrapped around in such an intricate and meticulous way are a variety of knives, serving as what would be the ‘spikes’. You’re impressed. He even hands it to you, to which you take it. It’s got a decent weight to it, too. Not too heavy, but not too light.

“Woah.” You say, as Art watches you, quite proud of how dazzled you are. He’s an artist at heart, you knew this. The knives have some rust on them. One of them looks stained from a previous bloody encounter. He’s clearly working with whatever he’s got on him.

“If anyone survives this, they better pray they don’t get tetanus.” You muse, and Art’s face twists in amusement in a silent laugh. You hand the weapon back to him, and he takes it once he’s done getting in a few silent chuckles at your joke, gently placing it back down on the table.

No one escapes Art with their soul still in their body. Literal or figurative. You were either dead, or you were burdened with his encounter your entire life, both physically and mentally.

You weren’t any different. Your bruises and bites and scars have been out of love. One could argue that you got off easy, but you’d argue otherwise.

Being in love with the Miles County Clown is torture in and of itself. There were nonstop dreams that came with it. It seemed as if every other week he’d plague you in your sleep. Not to mention that you had to be extremely clever to not be caught under affiliation with him–which was even more stress. So far, though, so good.

He’s worth it, you tell yourself. Even if he wasn’t anymore, there’s no way you could leave. He’d kill you. And you have zero doubts that your death wouldn't be painless.

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave all the time.” You begin to tell him. Art’s expression is neutral, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. His teeth are bared, as they often are. Your tone isn’t one of whining, but of yearning. You know that this came with the territory, and you readily accepted his lack of presence at any given time.

But it didn’t hurt to dream. Art tilts his head, watching you from where he sits curiously.

“Maybe one day we can find some place that… Is ours. Separate from… This.” You gesture towards the weapons he’s making. Every so often he hides somewhere different to prepare for the trouble he intends to cause. “A place that maybe once you’re done for the day, we both can be in to unwind. And a permanent place for you that isn’t just my apartment. But like. A place for you. For us.”

Taking him to your apartment kept getting riskier and riskier each time. Also, he made it quite clear he didn’t really care for your decor. Giving him his own place to make his own that he could express himself would be ideal, and it wouldn’t be like a place he’d have to abandon every year. He could actually have and keep stuff… If he wanted to even do that.

The more you think about it, the more you’re starting to think it sounds silly. You see the way that he’s looking at you, and he appears very stern. Sharp.

Your confidence begins to drop, and as you’re about to speak again, you stammer, before laughing nervously.

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, that was a silly idea–any long term space we made for you would probably get found out eventually, too. I–”

The stool screams as it’s slid across the ground, back towards the bench when he stands up. It sounded like one of his many victims. You go quiet as he’s hovering over you, and you swallow any words that you might have wanted to tell him.

The silence is heavy. His shoulders are rising and falling, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Seconds tick by and they feel more like minutes, and you can’t stand it any longer. You open your mouth to speak, but you’re swiftly cut off.

Art yanks you by the collar of your dress, and forces his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide briefly in surprise, but they close as soon as you register what’s happening, and you moan in the kiss. Art’s a bit of a sloppy kisser, but you’ve come to love it. His taste was acrid as well, but you craved the bitterness at this point, no longer gagging like you used to. As he leans forward to kiss you harder, you put more of yourself in it as well, mixing his intensity with your passion and desire that’s been left simmering for months.

Now it’s boiling over.

Art places both of his hands on either side of your face, and it’s like he’s trying to suffocate you with his kisses, barely giving you much time to breathe in between them. You’re getting a little lightheaded.

He pulls away from your lips to kiss you a few times on the cheek, then nuzzling his face against yours. Almost like a cat.

It gives you the chance to catch your breath. His hands reach for yours, and you let him, feeling the way that his fingers interlace with your own. You look down at the way that your fingers intertwined with his dirtied and calloused ones. He was a man who worked with his hands–in more ways than one. Those same fingers belonged to the same hands that would worship you, tear and pull at you without ever breaking you completely in half. Sometimes it’d be close, but never fully. They would sometimes draw blood when the nails would sink into your flesh and leave behind crescent marks. Other times, those hands would strangle you, smack you–slap you, and bring a sting across your body that reminded you just how alive you were. Then those same hands would caress you. Cradle you.

He’d cut you on a few occasions, but they were never lethal. And with every cut, his tongue followed.

You feel reverence. Especially as you press a kiss to the tip of his fingers–you kiss each one, tenderly, making eye contact with him as you do so.

Art watches knowingly. He raises his head a little so that when he watches you, he’s looking down at you, all too aware of how you worship him. And he accepts it. But only from you. Just you. No one else.

After kissing each finger, from pinkie to thumb, you stop back at his index, soft lips pressed against the pad of it. His fingers were stained. Caked in whatever gore and dirt and grime he’d touched earlier.

Not that you cared, nor would you let it stop you. You’re a freak. Not well in the head. You’d lick any and all of his love off of the world's sharpest blade if that’s the only way he gave it. If he wanted you to cut your tongue on it, you would.

Bringing his index finger to your mouth, you wrap your lips around it, and watch him. He tastes exactly how you’d expect—foul and wretched. You catch the faintest hint of iron. A taste that you’ve come to associate pleasantly with him. That part feels right.

Art’s gaze is fixed on you. You can’t read his thoughts, and though he doesn’t speak, you recognize what that look means. Even as he observes you, teeth bared subtly, head still held high, which he inclines just slightly as you take another finger in your mouth–his middle one.

You suck his fingers lewdly, and close your eyes. You imagine it’s his cock, even though you know that his fingers can’t compare to the real deal. You push your tongue through his index and middle as you take more of him in your mouth. Art watches your tongue work around him, until he decides to press down on the muscle, effectively stopping you.

You stare at him.

Seconds linger in silence, and he relinquishes pressure off of your tongue, letting you move it freely again.

And you do. You hold his hand and go back to kissing his fingers before fellating them. Index first. Then the middle. And finally the ring finger–all three at once. The taste of iron is stronger. You sigh a gentle moan as you pull your head back and give him back his hand. You kiss at the tips of his fingers again. As you’re about to take his fingers a third time, he leans forward instead, his lips taking yours. You feel the way that he seizes both of your wrists as he floods your senses all over again, and you let him.

You try to say his name in between the kisses, but each time you get a breath between the barrage of affection that seems to practically swallow you whole, Art steals your voice with another passionate kiss. Again, his taste is bitter, his teeth are damn near rotten, but you’ve gotten so accustomed to the flavor that it doesn’t make you gag. It makes you feel only slightly sickly. But the arousal overrides any lingering discomfort.

It’s disorienting. It’s all so much at once. You feel your body temperature rise. Art gives you back one of your wrists, but in doing so, he places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you in against him, until there’s no space left between you.

That’s when you feel it. You feel the heat of his erection pressed against your thighs. You’ve excited him enough, it being quite clear the effect your mouth had on him.

You smile, but his lips are back at yours again, and the taste of bitterness hits at the back of your tongue—the most sensitive taste receptors lighting up and ripping any smugness you had straight out of you as you close your eyes and sigh softly. His tongue mingles with yours.

He begins to move, forcibly taking you with him as you change where you’re standing, so that he’s no longer the one whose back is facing the workbench–it’s you. You feel the edge of the table bump against your ass. With your positions effectively switched, you don’t mind at all, far too enraptured by the kisses of your clown lover.

This was pure bliss.

He pulls away from your lips, now kissing the corners of your mouth, then going to your jawline, until he’s at your neck, sucking and licking and nibbling, giving you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard. You close your eyes and moan softly.

This is the few times of the year that you get this. It was the time that you’d be peppered in kisses, ravaged, and torn asunder in such a way that it would take you almost the remaining however many days, months, or years until you’d see him again to put yourself back together.

“Art…” You laugh a little when his lips tickle a part of your neck. He silences you again with his lips to yours. You feel the way that he nips at your tongue this time and draws a little blood. The endorphins from the pain gives you a pleasant buzz. He bites your bottom lower lip next, taking note of how he’s beginning to use his teeth more and more during this exchange, and you think about how he’s eaten the faces of his victims before.

You could be next.

He pulls away and kisses at the corners of your lips a second time. He’s obsessed with using his mouth. Your eyes finally open, and you gently move your head back a bit, until Art finally stops, the both of you staring into each other's eyes. His teeth are bared all the same as they were before, but there’s a sultry gaze you’re familiar with. Up this close, you can see the more subtle details of him.

Like his lashes, which otherwise, from a distance is obscured by the paint over his face.

How could someone–or… Something, be so monstrous… Yet so… pretty? You could get lost in his gaze. You could drown in it. And he knows that. And he likes that power over you.

Your lips turn upwards into a soft smile, and you feel a desire pool at your groin. It’s an undeniable throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. Nevermind that you can feel his own arousal against you. He’s warmer than you–he feels like he’s practically burning up, compared to you, and the body heat radiating from him only serves to make you hotter in turn. Right to the point where you’re developing a thin sheen of sweat across your brow.

“I love you.”

He watches you, and through his body language and eyes, you understand him through his reaction. You see a slow, smug smile appear on his face.

Very much an, I know. No sign of reciprocation. That would be too heavy of an ask from someone like him. But him being receptive to your love was a testament to how much he liked you.

Not that you expected anything less from a cold killer such as the Miles County Clown. The fact that he hasn’t yet killed you throughout all these years speaks in a kind of love on its own, you’d think.

Maybe not the one that people would refer to as being actually in love, but for him, for Art, it was. Love was tolerance. Love was allowing you to live.

You feel a hand slip up your dress again, and this time, you don’t stop him. You part your legs for him this time, willingly letting him indulge in what you denied him earlier. Through your panties you feel his thick fingers, his index and middle pressing against your clit, sliding down between your cunt and back up again. He threatens to penetrate you with the tips of his fingers through your panties with a gentle prod, but doesn’t follow through on it.

You ache, feeling more empty than ever.

He’s doing this on purpose. All because you told him to wait earlier.

“Art,” You say his name with a weak laugh, and he stops to look at you, knowingly, at that, well aware of what it is he’s doing. His little way of being petty with you, and he continues once more, trailing his fingers up and down between your thighs, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s been months,” You plead for him. His face is still inches from yours, and you lean more of yourself against him, as your voice gets low. He observes you through half lidded eyes, analyzing you, assessing you and sizing you up. He’s no longer smiling, and his lips are downturned ever so slightly. The expression looks more neutral now.

“I wanna have some fun.” You purse your lips. “Put your weapon crafting down for a bit?”

Your tone is pleading. It’s a mix of a command and a request–you’re voicing your thoughts. You try to get a reading on his response through his eyes, but he’s put up a wall that you can’t breach. He’s unreadable. It’s been months upon months since you’ve both done anything together.

“…Please?”

Art’s gaze is still indecipherable. It makes you a little nervous. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand up. Did he change his mind suddenly?

Had it been anyone else, you know they’d be dead instantly. There was no wondering about that. Not a speculation or doubt in your mind. You hated when he did this, when he was fucking with you like this, leaving you in silence. It’s in times like these that you’re reminded that you’re with a wild animal, and he could snap at any second if he decided he was hungry. It was part of the risk you took and the bargain you struck.

Maybe he’d just stab you here and now. Slit your throat and call it a fucking day because he decided that, nope, don’t wanna keep doing this anymore! He could. Again, he’s pushed you away before. Other days he’s yanked you in against him. His mood was unpredictable, hard to guess, and as volatile as a storm across an ocean.

Without another word, you’re turned around, and the flat of Art’s palm travels down your spine as he presses the front of your body forward and down onto the workbench. He gives you time to adjust, so that you’re at least able to rest your forearms on the table top. As of right now, your tits are squished against the surface of the table. It’s a little uncomfortable.

This is surprisingly tender, all things considered. You remember one time when he’d been fucking you on his workbench, how he tied your hands together with some zipties and then choked you out by wrapping some rusty metal chains around your neck. And that was only after he’d finished whipping your breasts, thighs and ass until you were a bloody bruised mess barely hanging on. You still have some scars from those times. He loved to twirl you over the line of death like it was all one dance, pulling you back at the last second.

You go from feeling his palm to the fingertips travel down your back. If it weren’t for the fabric of your dress in the way, you know those blood and dirt stained fingertips would have tickled you by now. And he’s done that in the past while fucking you–tickling you mercilessly. He even makes a point to wiggles his fingers a little against your back on the way down playfully. You can’t help but laugh a little as you exhale, letting some of the excitement stirring within you leave your body through your lungs. Your breaths are getting deeper, and in times like this, when he thrills you in such a way, you’re reminded just how much he makes you feel…

Alive.

Because when you’re with him, death is always hot on your heels. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t be gentle,” You tell him. He knows. You know he knows.

You hear the metallic zipper from the front of his suit go down as the teeth on the track separate and reveal the body of a man beneath that clown visage. You steal a glance over your shoulder to admire his pale skin that covered over such a thin frame. Amazing how a build such as his carries such supernatural strength.

Unceremoniously, he gets right to work, giving your ass a firm slap after lifting the back of your dress, letting it crumple up over your hips. You yelp gently as you know that there’s likely already a red spot on your rump. Art rubs the spot on your ass he’d slapped, then gives it a gentle squeeze.

You make the decision to look over your shoulder, right on time to experience watching when the killer clown makes the decision that you no longer are in need of your panties. His dirtied fingers slip within the space between the elastic waistband of your undergarment and your skin. He lets it snap against your flesh once–that’s about the extent of use it gets before he grabs whatever meager fistful he can of that excuse of ‘modesty’ you brought to him and rips it clean off your form.

“Ow!”

You told him to be rough. And he’s planning on taking that quite literally, as he’s taking it for not just the sex, but all of what precedes it apparently. He’s quietly laughing to himself, teeth showing, eyes crinkled.

“Glad you got some entertainment out of it.”

A few more noiseless giggles then he sobers up. Back to the task at hand—fucking your brains out.

He aligns himself right up against your warm dripping cunt, hands gripping your hips so tightly that his filthy fingertips leave stains on your dress. His nails are so sharp you swear that if he tried to sink them in any further, he’d pierce the cloth and right into your flesh. You inhale sharply again, bracing for the moment he sinks in. You feel the tip of his cock press against you and begin to push in, the head barely getting the chance even to get inside you before it slips and glides between the crack of your ass as he misses. Your excitement stutters for a second, but then ramps back up higher than before, impatience and desire washing over you wholly like a wave.

You’ve been grabbing at the edge of the workbench, hands holding tight and then releasing them of their grip every so often to relax your muscles. You don’t say anything.

He’s annoyed at missing you the first push in.

With a look of disgruntlement he instead opts for one hand reaching to push your head down against the table with such a cruel force that makes you worry for a split second that he was trying to crush your skull. It was his way of trying to steady you as he then uses his other hand to line the head of his cock right against your cunt for the second time.

You shiver as you feel him, hands turning to fists that you clench tightly as inch by agonizing inch, he spreads you and fills you out easily. Your body did the heavy work, and has been prepping for him for the last ten minutes. It’s slick, and he can feel the wetness of your cunt hit against his balls when he bottoms out within you. That’s when you sigh in relief.

He almost pulls all the way out, then rams into you roughly, making you exhale sharply as the table shakes upon impact. The few tools laid out shuddered until they stilled. Give or take a few more times of this, and he finally releases his hand on your head, but you still opt to keep your head down.

The rhythm he has is a little awkward at first, but he is quick to course correct, both hands firmly planted on your hips, keeping you steady. You can’t see his face right now, but you’ve seen it plenty of times when you’ve fucked before. How his mouth would go into that ‘o’ shape, and the way his eyes would go half mast, holding nothing but a glimpse of paradise behind him as you could see that he was as close to heaven as his wicked self could get. You were beautiful to him, as far as sacks of flesh and blood went. And you could tell the times that he looked at you in such a predatory manner that there was restraint behind it.

You feel the pressure build up within you at a steady rate as he leans over you, chest pressed against your back, sucking on your neck, marking you. Then he nips. Then kisses, then sucks so goddamn hard on the same spot that you swear that he’s trying to suction your flesh right off your body.

It doesn’t take long for you to be so close. He’s so warm. The sound of his body slapping against yours, mixed with the creak of the workbench that’s forced to undergo the assault of you being rammed into it, a few quiet moans slip past your lips to join along.

You’re unbearably close, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, just a little more and—

Your phone goes off.

You forgot to silence it.

You feel it vibrating in the pocket of your dress. The ringtone scares the shit out of you and Art, who abruptly jumps a little while still on top of you.

“Of course.” You say sarcastically. “Of course! Who the fuck is calling me?!” You’re irritated now, mood under threat of being ruined. The excitement you felt shrivels up.

Reaching inside your hiked up dress pocket, you pull out your phone and check to see who had the audacity to try and get a hold of you in your time of undoing.

Your friend. Sort of. He was like a close acquaintance? If you could call him that. You met him when you were out and about one night. He’s an okay dude, hasn’t done anything wrong.

If only he didn’t harbor a romantic interest in you when you were already spoken for. But how could you begin to tell someone that you’re involved with a psychopathic killer clown? Specifically the Miles County Clown?

You’re ready to send him right to voicemail, until the phone is seized right out of your hand from over your shoulder.

“Hey!”

Your protest is in vain, as Art too, looks at who is calling you right now. You had HOPED he’d take a look at it, have his curiosity sated, maybe turn the phone off or better yet, you’d even forgive him if he tossed it over his shoulder, just this once!

But the look he’s giving you, then the phone, makes your heart sink as you realize.

“Art, don’t do it—“

His expression turns wicked, mouth upturned into the most shiteating grin you’ve ever seen.

“Art, I swear to god—“

But god’s not here, nowhere to be found in this workshop. God’s forsaken you. Doing the devils tango with a demon can do that.

Giggling silently to himself, in an act of deliberate defiance against you as well as likely for his very own amusement, he accepts the phone call for you and places it right to your ear.

What a gentleman. Truly.

You’re going to fucking kill him. You try to take the phone away from him, but he merely pulls it back out of your reach.

“Hello?”

You can hear the voice on the other end of the line. Art brings it down to your ear again and you try to make a reach for it a second time, only for him to do the exact same thing as before, silently cackling all the while. It’s become apparent that he’s not going to let you have it.

“Hellooooo?”

With a resigned sigh, you don’t fight him any further. Art puts the phone to your ear for the third time.

“Hey.” You answer wearily.

“Hey!” His voice on the other end of the line is suddenly lighter, filled with levity. You can hear the way that his breath is hitched in the back of his throat. Static tinges at the edges of his words.  Must be a shoddy connection down here.

“How are you?”

“I’m–” You start to answer, but are interrupted by Art going back to rocking his hips into you while still over you. Once again, you look over your shoulder to give him the stink eye.

“I’m good, just uh, you know. Hanging out.” You respond, exhaling deeply as Art stirs the fire within you again after it had just begun to cool down.

“Nice, me too.” He says, and lets the silence between you both sink in for a few seconds. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

This would all be so much easier if you weren’t getting dicked down.

“I… I’m uh–”

He’s pounding into you from behind now, still leaning over you, holding the phone for you in one hand and keeping the other on the workbench for stability. Each fluid roll of his hips is equally tantalizing as the previous, his body connecting with yours in such a familiar way you craved. The table shakes, and you’re gripping the edges of it for dear life. You can hear his heavy breath from behind you, excitement building in each time he fills and empties his lungs.

“Art–” You say his name through grit teeth like a warning, with annoyance in your tone, but the excitement you feel, the rush and the thrill of it all has you coming close to release. Why does this feel so good? This man, this sweet man, who has done nothing wrong to you, interested in you, blissfully unaware that your heart belongs to someone else, being fooled like this. It’s wrong. This is wrong. Art knew about this man. He knew about him for some time. Art made it clear that he hated him. The only reason he’s still breathing is because you asked Art not to put this man’s head on a pike, but you fear it’s only a matter of time until your clown lover eviscerates this trespasser for encroaching on what he perceives as his territory–you.

“Art?" He repeats.

This is all an act of revenge done on the Art’s part. His pettiness knew no bounds.

“Yeah, art. You know–Mhn–” Your nails dig into the edge of the workbench as if that’ll somehow make a difference in the fact that he’s pounding into your cunt with such an aggressive force that begins to make you ache.

“You know, p-painting? Drawing. That sort of thing.”

You can only pray the ungodly sinful noises of his skin slapping against yours can’t be heard over the line.

“Ohhh… Well, hey, you wanna hangout sometime soon? It’s been a bit. Wanted to catch up with you if that’s fine.”

You’re not paying attention to a damn thing this dude is saying. It’s just words, in one ear, straight out the other.

“Uhuh.” You say without thinking. You’re close. You’re unbearably close as Art angles himself in such a way that hits just right. He knows how you work all too well. He knows how to unwind you and how to pull you apart piece by piece like it’s second nature to him.

Art’s pushing you towards the cliff, and there’s no stopping it. Your vision starts to blur a little. Your breathing deepens, and Art knows what’s about to come next, which only seems to spur him on as well, exciting him to the point where now he’s going fast not just for you, but for himself, chasing his own orgasm hot on its heels.

“How’s about next Thursday, at 7pm? There’s a new restaurant across the street from where we both met—“

The phone becomes nothing short of white noise. This shouldn’t feel so right, it shouldn’t. But it does. Gods above, it does.

You feel yourself lose sense of the world around you. There’s nothing but ringing in your ears, and you realize how little time you have to prepare before it’s too late.

Your orgasm crashes into you and is ripped out of you all within seconds. You try to keep quiet, your voice strangled and choked out in the process. Your release is violent as it tears you between what feels like the state of life and death. Your cunt tightens around his cock, squeezing him in contractions that trigger him in turn. Art hisses like a serpent, feeling his muscles lock up and knowing that he only has a few seconds to bury himself to the hilt within you, and he does. His face twists into an ugly and horrid expression as he comes inside you, dropping the phone on the workbench in the process while filling you with all the pent up energy he had been keeping away from you for months.

All of what he’d been denying you was now yours.

“Hello?”

You’re finally coming back into your own body a few meager seconds later when you register the voice, and hurriedly grab the phone before Art gets the chance.

“Can I call you back?” You ask, holding the phone to your mouth, but you weren’t really asking. Your friend had no real say in it, and before he even gets the chance to respond, you hang up. And then you lower your head and sigh. All the while, Art has since recovered, but his legs are shaky. You shove him off of you, and he stumbles back with an uneven balance, post orgasm weakened. Goofily he fumbles past the stool from earlier, which he tries to grab but fails in doing so. Instead, he lands right on his ass.

You’re sure to follow that up by throwing your phone at his head, which it does, but it lands with a clack right beside him. The only reason you felt remotely confident in doing that is because you’re both that close. Well, that and irritation made you a bold motherfucker sometimes. Yet despite all of that, he sits there, a wickedly amused smile on his face.

You pull your dress back down. Your legs tingle and you swear you feel some of his come dripping down your thigh, but you’re not sure.

“Proud of yourself, huh?” You ask, leaning against the bench for balance until you get your footing.

Yes. Yes he was proud of himself!

The rest of the night was spent at Art’s temporary hideaway space, lamenting the loss of your panties and calling back your guy friend who had unknowingly been part of something much more than he knew. And you’d never tell him. Not that you would ever have the chance to tell him really anything at all anymore in the future.

You had no idea at the time that Art would meet your friend the day you were both set to reconvene. But you should have known better, and a part of you already did. The reason you know he was dead was because he ended up on the local news the next day missing.

That, and Art had saved the man’s heart specifically for you when you came to visit him again.

[creamflix]

veritas ratio x female reader; 18+ content (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS do not interact, you'll be blocked), established relationship, oral (f. receiving), slightly pussy drunk ratio, messy pussy eating, implied overstimulation at the end, #needthat – masterlist here ☆～（ゝ。∂）

veritas ratio never really understood the appeal of going down on someone.

it wasn’t that he was against it — it was just something that never really crossed his mind. humans had needs, sure, and you were no exception; with you as his girlfriend, he became more aware of that fact. he’d use toys on you, his fingers even, pressing and curling them inside you in calculated ways that had you panting and trembling.

but his mouth? now that was something he hadn’t considered.

not until tonight.

"what do you need?" he whispers into your ear, his voice calm and collected, like he’s conducting one of his usual experiments. "tell me exactly what you need from me."

you're already burning up from the way he’s been teasing you all night, his fingers brushing against your soaked folds but never fully giving you what you crave. and then you say it, breathy and desperate, "i need your mouth… on me."

he stops.

completely still, like you’ve just hit him with something he’s never computed before. his eyes flicker over you, scanning your expression, the flushed look on your face, the way your chest rises and falls with each shaky breath.

"my mouth?" he repeats, his voice carrying a faint hint of confusion as if he’s trying to understand a new formula. he’s tasted you before — off his fingers, in small, fleeting moments — but this? fully indulging? he tilts his head slightly, brows furrowing like he’s examining an unfamiliar hypothesis.

"yes," you practically whimper, need pulsing through your core. "please… i need you there."

he takes a long pause, processing. logically, it makes sense. there must be some valid reason so many people seem to enjoy it, why so many swear by it. it’s another mechanism, another tool to explore, to utilize. why not? he’ll never know the depths of it until he experiences it firsthand.

so he moves down, slow, deliberate, like he's approaching an experiment he’s not entirely sure about but willing to engage in. his fingers part your folds, exposing you to him, and his gaze sharpens, analyzing every detail of how your body reacts, how wet and needy you are. you feel him breathe against you, warm and soft, before his lips finally meet your core.

the first touch of his mouth is tentative, experimental, like he’s testing the waters, and the moment your hips jerk toward him, he knows he’s onto something. he licks a slow, measured stripe up your slit, tasting you fully for the first time in this way. the sound that leaves your lips — broken, needy — has him hooked.

"fascinating," he murmurs against you, his voice sending vibrations straight through your core. and then, as if the data clicks in his mind, he dives in.

his mouth is everywhere — lips sucking, tongue swirling, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you spread wide for him. the more he tastes you, the sloppier he gets, abandoning the calm, calculated movements. he's messier now, groaning into your pussy like he can’t get enough of your taste, his tongue flicking over your clit again and again.

"fuck —" you gasp, your hands tangling into his hair as your back arches off the bed.

he pulls back for a second, his lips slick and shiny, looking up at you with that same analytical gaze. "you taste… better than i expected," he says, as if he’s stating a simple fact. then, without another word, he’s back between your thighs, lapping at you greedily, like he’s trying to understand every little reaction your body gives him.

he’s addicted now, completely immersed in the act, the taste of you. he wonders, as he sucks your clit into his mouth, why didn’t he do this sooner? why hadn’t he explored this with you before? it’s unlike anything he’s experienced — the way you buck and writhe under him, the sweet, wet sounds of his tongue and lips against your pussy. it’s intoxicating.

"ratio — i’m close, please," you whine, your thighs trembling as he flicks his tongue over your swollen clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that has you spiraling.

he hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t let up, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place, his tongue working faster, sloppier, his mouth drenched in you. he’s so focused, so consumed by your taste, that when you finally break, crying out his name, shaking under his mouth, he groans, grinding his hips into the mattress, desperate for his own relief.

"good girl," he murmurs against your pussy, not stopping even after you’ve come, licking and sucking like he’s starved, addicted, wanting more of you, as if he's only just begun to unravel what makes you tick.

#needthat

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[prettyboykatsuki]

balancing act | y. isagi + i. rin

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader (she/her used for reader, good girl etc), threesome kinda, oral (m!recieving), bondage (m!receiving) deep-throating, face-fucking, some gagging, rin-centric, polyam relationship, rin and isagi have and established dynamic, soft dom! isagi, implied sub!rin, and switch!reader 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (enough......)

✮ a/n ; thank you for commissioning me @timesnewreader. i was... very excited to write this.... i hope u are okay with the direction i took....

✮ synopsis ; you start to understand the dynamic between them. or maybe all three of you, a little more.

or isagi teaching you how to make rin feel good while rins tied up.

tip jar | commission post (closed for now)

Isagi's hand is warm as it rests on your head.

You look up at him from where you're kneeling, craning your neck to try and get a look of his face. He notices quickly, instantly—affectionate as he lets his hand cup your cheek. His thumb brushes along your lip as he pets you.

A fuzzy feeling settles in your stomach at the touch and he smiles at you. Sun-warm, almost deceptively kind.

You can feel Rin's gaze on you too. Unreadable to you like always. Not quite cruel, not quite openly affectionate either. Something else simmering under the weighted teal irises that makes your stomach tie in knots.

"Don't be nervous," Isagi hums. Him and Rin lock eyes and for a split second, you almost think you understand them. "He won't act tough forever,"

"Shut up," RIn hisses. Isagi clicks his teeth.

"Lighten up first," Isagi says, shaking his head. He cards his fingers through Rin's hair. And then he tugs from the root, hard enough to make RIn hiss. His smile is the same - no traces of malice. "You're scaring her, y'know? Be civil."

Rin looks down at you again. On you? You don't really know. He doesn't look for long, and doesn't respond to Isagi when he talks. His eyes dart in another direction and he scoffs under his breath.

Isagi shakes his head. "You're so dishonest,"

They look at each other again, speaking without talking at all Rin clicks his teeth. Isagi sighs, shrugs, and directs his attention back to you.

"Sorry," He says, apologetic. Sincere. "We both want you here. Promise,"

It's like he's reading your mind, visible relief making your shoulders sag where you sit. Isagi's grin grows another size, pinching your cheek slightly. "You were worried, huh? How sweet."

You squirm a little. You can't find your voice for a minute or two. "A little. I don't... if Rin-kun isn't comfortable with it then—"

Isagi laughs.

And then, with no ceremony - he puts his knee between Rin's closed legs and shoves them apart. Rin snaps at him. Isagi keeps his legs forced open without concern.

Rin isn't any position to do anything anyway. You're knelt between his legs but he's got his arms tied - restrained to a chair per Isagis's request. He fights a blush as Isagi keeps his legs apart.

He's not naked, but you can see he's hard. His cock strains against the athleisure on hips - tenting the fabric slightly. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at Rin whose still refusing to look at you.

"Promise he won't bite," Isagi says, encouraging you to touch him. "Not if I keep him restrained at least. It's okay."

You and Rin look each other this time. Rin's eyes lid as you crawl closer between his legs. Your hand is tentative, loosely cupping his cock.

The response is instant. A sharp hiss, dick twitching against your hand despite how lightly you've touched it. It emboldens you, enough to hold it at least. He's hard. You wonder if you did that to him. Some part of you can't believe it.

"See? He's just embarrassed," Isagi says, patient with you. With Rin too, you think. "He wants you make him feel good. Rin had a crush on you first, you know? Between us. I bet you want that too,"

You look up at him innocently. "I want to make you feel good too,"

Isagi lets out a labored breath. "Watching you makes me feel good. Rin-kun will pout if I get to you first," An eye roll. "Unfair right? But that's how much he likes you."

"Shut up already,"

Rin is blushing. Isagi laughs. "See? I'll tell you how to make him feel good. You'll get something nice after, okay?"

"Oh it's—it,"

"Don't argue, 'kay? Go, get closer to him."

So you listen to him. You inch closer to Rin's lap and rest your hand on his leg. Isagi bends down on one knee behind you, keeping his legs apart when Rin tries to shut them closed. Undressing him for your ease of access, hands pushing his sweats down to his thighs.

At full height, his dick is bigger than you imagined it to be. Prettier too, somehow. It's gorgeous—tip flushed cherry red, with a long curve and veins that stand out. Mostly hairless except at the base, where it's well groomed. The hair grows thick still, contrasts so nice against the pale color of his cock. Pre-cum dribbles from the head, silky and and crystalline clear - laced with white.

You feel your head get heavy. A subconscious desire to get closer to it overwhelms your thoughts. Close enough to breathe on it. Rin huffs.

"You're making such a cute face," Isagi coos, amused by you. Embarrassment flares in your belly, tickles your skin. "He likes when you start light. Too much at once and he'll get overwhelmed. Go slowly,"

He instructs so gentle you don't feel condescended. Despite his smugness, his intention is so genuine it makes you flush.

You let your instinct take over. Your mind clouds, pouting your lips to press a soft kiss to the very base of his shaft. Wet and open mouthed, you rest and feel the weight of it. The pulse of it. His cock is so heavy against your face

You move up, kissing it slowly all the way to the very tip. You let your lips rest there. Rin looks down at you, chest heaving.

The obstinacy has melted off of him. Faster then you could've predicted. There's something...needy to it. Almost. Maybe you're reading it wrong.

"You're so good, hm," Isagi hums - standing on his knees behind you. His hand comes around your waist, palm resting on your midriff. "Learned so fast. Use your tongue,"

You dip your tongue into leaking slit on command. Rin cusses loud.

Without thinking, you open your mouth up enough to fit the tip of his cock into it fully. You don't take him all the way into your throat, heeding Isagi's advice to go slow.

"It's sensitive under the head," He directs. He's so comforting, so sincere. "Try it,"

You concentrate your attention there, pressing your tongue flat. Rin jerks above you - hips threatening to buck up into your throat. But Isagi uses both hands to hold him down by his thighs. Rin strains against it but Isagi is firm. You're reminded then that despite the difference in size between them, their athletic prowess isn't so different.

The thought sends you reeling.

"So desperate," Isagi taunts. "A pretty girl has your cock in her mouth and you get so worked up. What happened to your restraint and self-discipline, huh?"

"Fuck off," Rin swears. His voice lacking the composure you've come to associate with him so strongly. "Shut up before I go soft."

"As if you would. Can't cum without me telling you off, can you?"

You feel him twitch in your mouth and you try not to gasp at the reaction, proving itself in front of your eyes. Your eyes go wide and Rin looks down with an embarrassed blush and oh—.

"See? Rin-kun only acts tough but truth is he can only take so much," Isagi hums. His hands slide up your chest and you feel him cup your tits - giving them an affectionate squeeze. "That's why we're spoiling him. He's being like this but he's happy you're pampering him. Right, Rin-kun?"

You look at Rin again and you think you're starting to understand. Just a little. How it goes between them. And now between you. The thought makes your pride swell.

"Rin-kun," You pull away, eyes blown wide in some sudden desire. "I like you."

A pause. Air being pulled into lungs, a held breath. Rin's eyes go wide and you watch as his cock dribbles again. Isagi freezes for a moment too before he laughs, laughs warm and affectionate and so loud.

"You caught on fast, huh?" Isagi says, hugging you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder. "And me too, right?"

"Yeah, of course you too." You nod.

You understand it a little more clearer. Rin never does something he doesn't have a reason or desire to do. His ego doesn't work that way. Not combating Isagi, no matter how smug, is it's own form of submission you think.

"Let's keep going, okay? Without worry."

A weight lifted from your shoulders, you nod again. Open your mouth fully, careful as you stand up on your knees and get closer. The assurance instills confidence in you, makes it easier for you to go through the practiced motions. Your hands on Rin's thighs, corded muscle strained under your palms where you hold yourself up. Both you and Isagi holding his hips in tandem.

You let yourself take him in. Trapped betwen them, you swallow around Rin's cock. Careful to mind your teeth, the edges of your mouth stretch and ache to accommodate his length. The scent of him makes your head feel heavy, a strong musk and the taste of clean skin all over your tongue. Makes your mouth water, brain melting slow. The effort doesn't go unnoticed, Isagi whispering praises as you open up your throat to fit fully fit Rin's cock.

"You're so good. Just like that," He hums, giggling. "Even I can't do this well. So good with your mouth huh?"

You gag voicing a muffled 'thank you' and Rin curses above you. You feel him strain, muscles of his thighs shaking hard.

"Fuck—fuck, don't—"

You move then. Mouth full of spit, used to the feeling of his cock down your throat - you move bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. Your eyes prick with tears at the way he hits your throat now repeatedly but you push forward anyhow.

You want to see him cum. You want to make him cum.

You can only go for so long though, before your jaw starts to trie.

When you start to slow, Isagi is kind and does the heavy lifting for you.

His hands rest on the side of your head forcing you up and down. It sends a shot of lightning through you, arousal making your whole body shiver at the controlled force. Precise force. He holds you down but he's careful not to push you too far. You moan around Rin's cock in response to it.

Having your face fucked with Isagi as the driver makes your mind bend with unfiltered lust. Your legs clamp again, an empty ache in your cunt as you think about what he must be like when he fucks.

Rin doesn't make it out any better. You can feel him. How he starts tremble, how his voice goes shot - how his dick gets harder, twitches so violently in your mouth each time he bottoms out in your throat.

"Fuck," His head drops back in a groan. "Fuck I'm—"

Isagi smiles a little.

"Be a good boy and cum down her throat like she wants,"

That's what makes him let go. Isagi holds you down as Rin cums with something that borders on a scream, straining against his restraints as his cum spills all the way down. It fills your mouth, the taste and the scent making you dizzy. It goes so far into your throat you don't taste it, rather you swallow it all in one go with little fuss other than a loud gulp.

"That's it," Isagi coos. "That's a good girl. Easy, easy. Breathe."

You cough as Isagi lets you off of Rin slowly, exhaling as you clear your throat. When you pull away, Isagi pulls you by your chin to tip your face over to meet his.

"Open your mouth, beautiful."

You do and Isagi smiles with pride. "You really swallowed all of it. Didn't even use your hands," He hums. "What a good girl."

You make a face of embarrassment. "Thank you,"

Rin makes a disgruntled sound. "Untie me before I fucking kill you,"

Isagi snorts, giving you a short kiss before going around to undo Rin's bindings. "Hard to take you seriously when you sound like that."

You sit where you are, in a mild daze you collect yourself. Lost in your own world, you don't notice when Rin finally gets untied.

It startles you when you feel him practically jump you. When his hands are free, he bends over the chair and brings your face to his. Big hands cradle your face as you feel him kiss you so hard it shakes you. More teeth than lip, rough but full of desire. You feel his tongue in your mouth even after swallowing his cum. At some point you give into it, hands clutching his shoulder as you struggle to breathe.

It's Isagi that pulls him off, a laugh on his voice - not mad at all.

"You're so aggressive when you get like this. Just be honest from the start next time instead of trying to eat her, dumbass."

Despite the bickering, Isagi bends down from where he stands to kiss Rin too and Rin lets him so easily you almost want to laugh. Rin must notice. He glares just a little but he looks embarrassed more than anything.

"You did good baby," Isagi praise, a hand on your shoulder. "What kind of reward do you want?"

You pause. "What does Rin-kun want?"

A blush paints him deep red and you ans Isagi sort of smile in mutual understanding. He frowns, bangs covering his face.

"Want you to sit on my face,"

You look at Isagi.

"Then that, if that's okay."

Isagi hums, a hand on Rin's nape. "More than okay. Guess it's fine to spoil him a little more."

Rin makes a disgruntled noise, but ultimately - he doesn't seem too unhappy with it either.

A very careful balancing act.

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[paarthunaxx]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[moonhoures]

Video Games

🕷️ kinktober — day 1: angry / makeup sex 🕸️

pairing: jay (enhypen) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, mild angst, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, pet name: ‘baby’ (for reader), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: ~1.9k

synopsis: jay is seemingly put in the doghouse after forgetting to pick you up from work like he promised. but there are some ways he can earn your forgiveness . . .

a/n: this is not as ‘angry’ as you’re probably picturing, but hopefully you guys like it nonetheless 😅 enjoy!

posted: october 1, 2023

kinktober masterlist

One thing. You asked him to remember one thing. “Don’t forget, I need you to pick me up from work at eight!” You told him twice and reminded him once more before you walked out of the apartment to catch a bus. Jay nodded each time, even going as far to say “Seriously, ________, I’m not a kid. I’ll remember” when you reminded him the last time.

Yet, you stood at the front door of your job at 8:17 p.m, looking and feeling stupid. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, and your face was stuck in an immovable scowl. You knew you should’ve taken your coworker’s offer to drive you home, but you had put your faith in your boyfriend to do what you asked of him. How silly of you.

You texted and called him multiple times before giving up; he wasn’t answering and he probably wasn’t going to any time soon. I swear if he’s playing those damn video games, you thought with a bite of aggravation. You loved your boyfriend to the moon and back, but if there’s one thing you didn’t like about him it was how attached to his games he got. He was majorly competitive, to the point it was difficult to get him off of the console, especially when he was close to winning whatever dumb game he was playing. And heaven forbid he’s playing with his friends who only encourage his habit even further.

After ten more minutes you went ahead and walked down the street to the bus stop. Your nerves were on edge and your head was on a swivel. You couldn’t help but curse Jay in your head for putting you in this position and making you so anxious. Since your car was in the shop, you had been picking up rides from him and your coworker. You wanted to avoid taking the bus at night at all cost, which is exactly why you nagged your boyfriend to pick you up tonight.

When you finally made it home, the door flung open without care, dinging against the door stopper just in front of the wall. It rattled a bit; you had hoped he would hear it and be startled. But when you walked through the living room, you were even more pissed to see him on the game with his head set on, his phone turned upside down on the table in front of him. Of course he didn’t get my texts and calls, he couldn’t see or hear them.

You scoffed, not giving him a second look as you stormed into your room and slammed the door shut. You vaguely heard him say “Hey, baby” as you got in the hallway.

You decided to run a bath to cool off before you went off on him and said some things you would regret. In the mean time Jay had found it odd you didn’t answer him, his brows knitting together. He wondered why you were in such a weird mood, but figured you might’ve just had a bad day. He shrugged and reached for his phone to check the time. Maybe I’ll have time for one more match, he thought. The screen of his phone lit up when he flipped it over, several missed notifications taking up the entire screen. Some social media notifications were interrupted by five missed texts and seven missed calls from you. Each text asking where he was, how long he would be, had he forgotten? His heart sank into his stomach.

“Shit.”

Jay tore off his headset and quickly logged out of the game, running to your bedroom door. His hand shifted the door knob but was met by resistance when he tried to open it. He closed his eyes in defeat and sighed. His knuckles tapped against the hard surface a few times, “Baby, open the door. I’m so sorry I forgot to pick you up.”

On the other side of the door, you ignored him, turning off the running water in the bath tub before walking back in the room to get some pajamas.

“________, please open the door. I’m really sorry. I know I fucked up,” he continued, voice dripping with sincerity, “I know you told me multiple times, and you don’t have to forgive me. But please just let me apologize to you. I don’t want you to go to bed upset.”

You paused at your dresser. Your determination to stay mad at him was slipping. But your pettiness wasn’t, “Did you win?”

Jay arched an eyebrow in confusion, “Huh?”

“Your game. Did you win? It must’ve been a really important match for you to forget about me.”

Jay let out a groan of annoyance, not so much with you but with himself, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Really, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll do all the chores this weekend. I’ll cook your favorite dinner for you. I won’t play my games tomorrow.”

He heard your scoff from the hallway, practically heard your eye roll, too.

“I won’t play my games for a week,” he corrected himself, “A month even. Whatever it takes to get you to talk to me.”

His heart pounded as it grew uncomfortably quiet. He didn’t even hear your soft footsteps, so his eyes became wide when the door in front of him opened. You stood in front of him in just your robe, your disscontempt etched into your face. If looks could kill, he wondered if he would be six feet under already.

“I told you three times, Jay.”

“I know.”

He frowned, looking more ashamed than you had ever seen him. You secretly wished you didn’t love him so much. It made it harder to be upset with him. You wanted him to feel bad, at least for tonight.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“I deserve that,” he agreed.

“And I’m gonna hold you to those promises,” you continued, “No games for two weeks.”

He was shocked that you had downsized the punishment from the month he suggested, but he didn’t show his surprise in case you took it back, “Okay.”

Your hardened stare lingered on him a little longer, and he grew nervous for what would come out of your mouth next. Little did he know you were actually thinking about how cute he looked. How mad you were at yourself for finding him so attractive at a time like this. Fuck you for being so hot, you thought, as if he could hear your thoughts.

“Are we good now?” he asked timidly. His hand cautiously reached up to cup your cheek in a sign of truce.

“You’ll have to earn your way back into my good graces,” you cracked a small smile.

“I’ll do anything,” he repeated, stepping closer to rest his hands on your waist. Your perfume lingered on your robe, filling his nose with the sweet, familiar fragrance that made his heart skip a beat.

“Anything?”

He nodded at your question, a smirk creeping onto his lips. If this was going in the direction he was thinking, then he was about to be a very happy man. His heartbeat accelerated as your hands found purchase on his chest, your palms flat over his pecs. Your eyes lingered on the small sliver of his collarbone that was exposed by the neckline of his t-shirt. When your gaze met his, there was a clear intention behind them that sent blood rushing to Jay’s loins.

Neither of you said anything as you tugged him into the bedroom and closed the door. In a matter of minutes you were on the bed, legs spread to make room for your boyfriend’s hips. Your robe was untied and thrown open as he slathered wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest. Your hand was buried in his hair, pulling lightly on it to keep him where you wanted him.

“You’re gonna fuck me exactly how I want,” you panted, hips already bucking up against his clothed crotch. He moaned in affirmation, the vibrations tickling your nipple that was in his mouth.

“Gonna give me the best orgasm ever,” you added, looking down to see his eyes closed as he laved at your collarbone. They opened to look you in the eye as he came back face-to-face.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he assured you, nodding as he connected your lips with his once again.

Skin-on-skin contact and heavy breaths filled the room shortly after. Jay’s clothes were quickly discarded and he was pounding into you like his life depended on it. Your fingers gripped his back, loving the way you could feel his muscles flexing with every movement. He tried to hold back low grunts as your ankles locked around his waist, causing him to thrust deeper into you. He felt anchored down, but in the best possible way. This position was as close to paradise as he would probably ever get.

“Faster, Jay,” you breathed out, fingernails digging into his skin. He gritted his teeth and fastened his pace as much as he could.

“Fuck,” you cursed, legs tightening around him even more, “Jay, faster!”

“Baby, I’m trying,” he practically whimpered, his thrusts getting a little quicker, but also sloppier. He was losing stamina. You knew he was trying his best, you could just tell. You thought about giving him some slack, but then you remembered how you two got in this position in the first place. You weren’t going to go easy on him at all; he didn’t deserve it.

“Not trying hard enough,” you sighed in annoyance, moving your hips up against his thrusts for more stimulation, “You’re so annoying.”

“So suddenly?” he scoffed out a small laugh, looking at you incredulously. He knew you well enough to know you weren’t being completely serious. You were just letting out your aggression; he didn’t take it to heart.

“Y-yeah,” you panted, wincing when his cock hit a certain spot inside of you that felt a little too good, “You need to listen to me.”

He nodded, his arms shaking a bit from the energy was exerting trying to please you and keep himself stable, “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”

“Promise?”

In that moment his gaze met yours, mere inches apart. Your breaths mingled between you, chests almost pressed against each other. He could tell you were getting close when he felt you growing tight around his dick. You always looked so beautiful like this—unraveling under him, by his own doing.

“Promise,” he sealed his words with a kiss against your lips, a low growl forming in his throat when you arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him close to you. Your bodies pressed together like this, he could feel all of you; it drove him insane, “Now, cum for me.”

You were already well on your way when he spoke. Your legs constricted his lower body before growing slack at his sides. Your arms loosely circle him, keeping him close during the aftershocks of your orgasm. He came not long after, keeping slow, shallow thrusts until he came to a halt. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, simply cherishing the proximity to you.

“Can I join you for your bath?” he asked after your breaths had both settled back into their normal inflections.

“Sure, but the water’s probably cold by now. We’ll need to refill it,” your voice was sweet in answering him, as if any other answer would be ridiculous. Your next sentence, however, proved to humble him, “You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight, though.”

Jay cracked a smile, nodding in agreement as he helped you off the bed, “Understood.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedrswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

[merbear25]

Hey!! How is your day going? I have a request, could you do Katakuri, Crocodile, and Mihawk with a Fem S/O with a breeding kink :)

Hello! My day has been fabulous now that I was able to write such a great request. I don’t know what happened but these came out much longer than anticipated. I hope you like what I’ve written for you and wish you a wonderful day/night. 💜💜

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship

Their s/o having a breeding kink (Katakuri, Crocodile, Mihawk)

Katakuri: He was very much questioning why you would want to risk bringing a child into his family. With such uncertainty of what could come, the potential dangers that came with being tied to his mother made him hesitant to bring a child into that. 

Oh but how he adored you; there were times he caught himself lost in thought—an image of you holding his child with such affection, looking at them with nothing but fondness was painted in his imagination. Listening to you share the vision of the family you saw with him unearthed something that had remained dormant for many years: a loving family of his own.

Despite his reluctance to make such fantasies a reality, your sweet pleas and gentle touches only continued to bring such a suppressed want further into the light. You were far too perfect for this world—too perfect for him. And yet, he found himself entertaining this idea more and more often.

It wasn’t as simple as you made it out to be, but perhaps you were already aware of that. He wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind and willingly surrender himself to wicked whims. If there was a chance that he’d impregnate you, there needed to be a plan set in place. At least that way, he would be able to fill you as much as either of you wanted.

As you curled up closer to him in bed, he instinctively wrapped you up in his arms. The mutual yearning to feel both physically and emotionally connected never subsided, and in fact was heightened when you laid together—your warm bodies finding solace in each other. The temptation to have such an innocent display of affection turn into something more was an option which was never off of the table.

When the two of you were alone, the rest of the world was of no importance. Such moments with you deserved to be cherished: savoring the way your skin felt under his hands, the way you whimpered when he gripped the fat on your hips, and the soft huffs you made as he caressed you. 

You would look exquisite with a round belly; the thought crept up on him. But despite how sudden such a thought was, his fingers kneaded your soft skin and lingered on the fattier parts. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how perfect your body was to carry a child—his child.

He slipped his hand between your thighs, teasing you as his long fingers glided against your clit. 

Leaning in closely, his voice was barely above a whisper, “You want to have a baby with me?” A question that bore part of his worries that you’d change your mind.

The vulnerability he had couldn’t be missed. “I’d love nothing more.” You let your heart guide you in that moment, allowing the sincerity in your words to console any doubts.

His lips twitched for a moment, hinting at how deeply your words touched him. Swiftly, he leaned in to capture your lips all while sliding his fingers into you. Even after the many times you gave yourself to him, preparation was always a necessity.

Your slick arousal coated his fingers, which made you appear even more delectable—ripe for his seed.

“Come here,” he breathed, pulling you into a better position.

Aligning his tip with your entrance, he eased his way in to give your body time to adjust. With your walls accommodating his size, spasming from his girth stretching you, they were eager to have him coat them. 

“Just like that,” you mused as he picked up the pace. Your hands gripped at his arms tightly to brace yourself for the increasing collision.

Raw emotions entwining with lustful urges created a symphony of shared euphoria. Your soft, sweet moans transforming into feral grunts were making it difficult not to let go right there and then. However, that need to watch the ecstasy washing over your trembling form kept him from entirely losing control.

“Want a baby?”

“Yes!”

“Want me to cum in you again and again till I knock you up?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” You cried as his thrusts became more ruthless.

Witnessing that euphoric peak wrecking you, your climax covering his cock: it was more than he could bear. With a final thrust, he released deep within your womb—beads of it spilling out of you from the intense brunt.

Holding you there for a moment longer, the both of you basked in the afterglow of your shared passion. With the high subsiding, your tenderness peaked through again.

“You’re going to make such a great father.”

He cuddled you closer and cradled you in his arms, his touch never straying from affectionate. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and lazily stroked your side with his thumb.

“Our child deserves nothing less.”

Crocodile: He’d never put much thought into having a family. That didn’t mean that he was ruling it out entirely but given his line of work, it was far from the ideal environment to raise children. In spite of this, he couldn’t deny the fantasies of you filled to the brim with his cum. If that led to a pregnancy, then so be it.

Being one to hold back on diving head first into fantasies and choosing to weigh the pros and cons of any and every situation, he still had needs. He still had wants, and if there was going to be anyone suited to bear his children, it was you.

Coming to him in your vulnerable state and opening up to him about these fantasies you had only piqued his own. He mulled over how prepared the both of you would be to potentially bring a child into the relationship and decided that whatever happened would be taken care of.

You were, afterall, the one he cherished above all others. Giving into you sweet desires of starting a family with him would be an adventure he wasn’t opposed to.

With the hours he worked, however, it put a pin in the whole thing. He didn’t like it any more than you did, but there wasn’t any chance that he’d cut corners or take extra time off—your escapades would just need to be put on hold for the time being.

Being cooped up in his office all day, the moon holding high in the sky was the only indication for him that perhaps he’d been too absorbed in business. When the door creaked open, he assumed it was one of his employees. 

“It’s too late to bother me with anything trivial, you know,” he warned.

When you slipped past the mahogany door, he leaned back and smirked at your attire: a form fitted nightgown with silk fabric that complimented each and every curve which graced your body.

Leaving the doorway, you slowly made your way over to him. Your tired expression was feigned as you asked when he was planning to join you in bed.

Moving back from his desk, he patted his lap. While you made yourself comfortable, he placed his hand on your inner thigh..

 “Are you really so needy that you can’t go to bed without me?” he teased.

You let out a deep sigh, playing with the buttons on his vest. “I can’t help it if I sleep better when you’re lying next to me.”

You were such a little minx, weren’t you? Well, if you were so desperate for his attention, he was more than happy to give it to you.

His heart was pounding as he pressed his lips against yours. When you parted yours slightly, he greedily swirled his tongue against yours, which earned him a lust soaked moan.

You parted your legs, allowing him easier access to which he gladly took advantage of. The cool gold of his rings trailing up your thigh sent shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched when his fingers found their way to your folds.

He growled into your kiss. “Not even wearing panties? Such a naughty little thing.” 

His teeth grazed your neck, causing your breaths to shake. Having made you wait for as long as he had, your poor needs not being met, he shoved a finger into your weeping pussy and pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit—rubbing it relentlessly.

As you quaked and panted on his lap, his gaze grew darker. With the soft hue of the fireplace and the moonlight peaking through the window, them highlighting your features made him hungrier for you.

The rush of his fingers making you squirm when there were papers of questionable deeds scattered on his desk only made you wilder with lust.

You pawed at his dress-pants, unbuttoning them so you could feel how much he wanted you. After just a few strokes he commanded you to sit on it, which you gladly obeyed.

The girth of his full erection made you cry out. The sudden twinges as your body adjusted caused your back to arch, taking him more easily. With your movements steady and slow, a firm slap on your ass was your incentive to pick up the pace.

Your bounces plunged him deeper and deeper into you, leaving you a trembling mess. Each gasp you made, each plea for him to cum in you and give you the family you so desperately wanted was like music to his ears. 

“Don’t worry, dear,” his tone husky from his own release building. “You’ll have your baby. I’ll make sure of it.”

He gripped your hip and took control, thrusting into you with abandon. You collapsed on him, clinging to him for dear life as the sounds of his cock slapping against your wet cunt echoed in the room. When coupled with your sobs of ecstasy, both of your climaxes were just within reach.

With his final thrust sending you over the edge, his own release followed suit. As he pumped each drop into you, the soft gasps passing your lips never failed to add to your allure.

“Now, then,” he said breathlessly. “Will you please go off to bed, so I can finish up here?”

With a firm kiss planted on your temple, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long for him to join you for the night.

Mihawk: He had entertained the thought of having a child and raising a family before but due to his reputation, it wasn’t exactly a safe environment for them to grow up in. Having a family would mean making them a larger target for enemies, as well—something that he wouldn’t want to burden them with much less himself.

However, when you and him were relaxing under the shade one warm summer’s day, you thought it was the perfect moment to share your wants to start a family with him. Hearing you explain it the way you did, watching your features growing darker to create a faint pull of seduction was eye-opening. 

Coming to the realization that you saw this as a kink was, quite frankly, off-putting. Yet, you assured him that you truly did want to have a child with him. Holding his hand in yours, the sincerity wrapping your words was enough to convince him—plus, the image of your little one pitter pattering down the hall was one he wanted to make a reality.

He did his best to set time aside for you, but it wasn’t always something he could promise. With your schedules keeping the both of you in dry spells, some improvisation became more and more appealing to him. 

When you were wiping down the counters in the kitchen, the way your hair framed your face and the concentrated expression you were wearing made you that much more beautiful. Seeing you were starting to move on to the dishes, he took you by the hand and pulled you into an embrace.

“Why don’t you let me take care of those later?”

His suave delivery got you nodding slowly. As he swayed you back and forth, brushing your hips together, there was no denying the spark that had been ignited.

With the pools of desire deepening in your eyes, he brought your hand to his lips. Maintaining eye contact as he traced your delicate fingers with light kisses, he kept track of each subtlety that graced your perfect face.

Lacing his fingers with yours, his other hand cupped the small of your back. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look absolutely ravishing today, my love.”

His hand traveled lower down your back, taking a handful of your backside while pulling you into a searing kiss. As the kiss deepened, your control was quick to wane. With such adoration being passed to each other through parted lips and bated breath, the temptation to take you was all too inviting not to succumb to.

Never breaking your kiss, both of his hands slid up your dress. His fingers gripped the soft skin you kept hidden under the cotton fabric. Slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his hands roamed under your underwear’s surface. Each graze across your ass pulled you deeper into your desires, his teasing touch making your core ache for more.

Pulling away from the kiss, he kept his gaze on yours. As he reached around, pressing you firmly against him, the trembling of your legs was the response he’d been craving.

“It would seem I kept you waiting for too long,” he whispered while soaking his fingers in your throbbing pussy. “My apologies, love.”

As you shook and quaked on his fingers, he lathered your sensitive neck with nips and kisses. 

“Dracule,” you breathed. “Make me a mom…wanna have your baby so badly.” Your love-soaked sobs of devotion struck straight through to his core. 

He placed one more fiery kiss before promptly bending you over the island counter. You eagerly tugged your dress up, presenting the arousal pooling in the fabric.

Wanting to soak in devine display, he planted his hands on your cheeks, gripping them tightly, kneading and shaking them. With one swift motion, he ripped your underwear down to your knees. A trail of your wetness snapped up from it, causing him to revel at the state you were in.

Gripping his cock, he teased your opening to further hear your sweet whimpers before plunging between your sopping lips. Your body readily accepted him, already desperate for more. 

His movements started off steady and deliberate with a clear aim in mind. As he picked up the pace, the sensation of you gripping around him was proving to be a test of his self-control.

“You’re going to make such a beautiful mother.” His words wrapped around you, leaving you breathless.

The harder he slammed into you, the more the chilled countertops adapted to your shared warmth—an offer of a temporary haven to conceive the child you both so desperately wanted.

Your whimpers grew into groans dripping with euphoria, echoing throughout the castle’s kitchen. Clawing at the surface, digging your fingers into it: you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. You gasped and cursed as he hit that sweet spot at just the right moment.

Feeling you clamp around him, pulsating from the velocity of your sudden undoing shattered any remainder of control he thought he still had.

Spilling every ounce of himself into you, the image of the family you were both trying for lingered in your minds. His hands caressed your shaky form, providing a balm for the high you’d just shared.

You eased yourself off of the now warmed counter and pulled him into a kiss which spoke to your unwavering devotion to him.

“Let’s not leave such a long gap next time,” you cupped his face, and he was inclined to agree with you.