#it’s not that Deep but it IS infuriating

[faebled-stories]

Wagering Emotions

Kinkvember Day 21: Free Use

GFriend/VIVIZ Eunha (Jung Eunbi) x Male reader

AN: Hi guys! Are you proud of me? This girlie is finally leaving the house for something besides school! 😅 I started this fic right after yesterdays since I knew I had limited time today. Even so It's a bit of a long one, so I hope you're comfy and enjoy! 💖

“Oh, God—harder! Yes, right there!” The sultry cry was followed by a series of sharp, breathless moans that reverberated off the thin apartment walls. “Ugh, you’re so deep in me—don’t stop!” The woman’s voice dripped with exaggerated pleasure, her words climbing louder with each gasp. The rhythmic creaks of a bed frame added to the cacophony, creating a soundscape that was impossible to ignore.

Eunha clenched her pillow over her ears, but it was no use. The noises seemed to seep through the fabric, crawling under her skin like a relentless itch. Each gasp and moan hit her with jarring sharpness, as if mocking her failed attempts at peace. The bedframe’s incessant squeaks provided a rhythm to the chaos, an unrelenting reminder of what was happening mere feet away. She sat rigid on her bed, her teeth gritted so tightly her jaw ached. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from embarrassment but from pure, boiling frustration.

The moans built higher and higher, peaking with a sharp, guttural scream. “Ohhh—yes!” The sound stretched out, lingering in the air as the bedframe gave one final, forceful creak before silence fell.

The stillness that followed should have been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. It only magnified the absurdity of the situation, the weight of her irritation pressing down on her chest. She let the pillow fall from her hands, her gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling as her breath came in uneven bursts. The faint scent of lavender from her diffuser drifted through the room, its calming intention now nothing but a cruel joke.

This was her sanctuary—her home. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Instead, it felt like she was the intruder, an unwelcome guest in her own space.

It wasn’t just the frequency of these escapades, though they had escalated to near-nightly rituals. It was the complete disregard—the audacity to treat their shared apartment like a personal playground, to push her patience to the breaking point without so much as an acknowledgment.

With a sharp inhale, Eunha swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cool wood flooring grounding her as her frustration surged. She shoved herself into her oversized hoodie, the fabric heavy against her skin, and stormed toward the hallway. Each step was deliberate, her bare feet making soft, muted thuds on the worn hardwood. The flickering bathroom light at the far end of the hall cast erratic shadows on the walls, making the narrow space feel both claustrophobic and foreboding. The air was heavy, thick with a lingering warmth that seemed to seep through the apartment from your room.

As she reached the hallway, the muffled murmur of voices caught her ear. A giggle—soft and self-satisfied—floated through the stillness, followed by the unmistakable sound of your door creaking open. Eunha froze, just for a moment, letting her anger sharpen as her gaze fixed on the corner where the hallway turned.

When you appeared, the sight of you leaning casually against the doorframe was almost enough to send her over the edge. The lazy smirk curling at your lips, the easy, unbothered confidence in your posture—it was infuriating. But it wasn’t just you. Draped against your arm, looking equally disheveled, was Umji— one of her closest friends.

Eunha’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked onto her. No. No way.

Umji’s hair was a tangled mess, loose strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her makeup was smudged, faint streaks of mascara trailing under her eyes, which darted away as soon as they met Eunha’s. A collection of red marks decorated her neck in uneven patterns, stark against her pale skin. Her lips, swollen and trembling slightly, glistened faintly as though they’d just come up for air. The hem of her mini-dress hung unevenly, the fabric wrinkled and askew as though hastily pulled back into place. Most noticeable, though, were her legs—wobbly, hesitant steps that made the sound of her heels on the hardwood uneven. She clutched your arm for support, her fingers curling into your sleeve like a lifeline.

“Hey!” Eunha’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and unyielding. The sound echoed down the hallway, and both you and Umji froze.

You turned slowly, clearly unhurried, the smirk on your face deepening as your gaze met Eunha’s. “Something on your mind, Eunha?” you asked, your voice a drawl of mockery. The lazy tone only fanned the flames of her irritation.

But Eunha barely registered you. Her focus was locked on Umji, who flinched under the weight of her glare. Her posture shifted awkwardly, her hands fluttering uselessly at the hem of her dress, as though she could somehow straighten out what had already been done. Her cheeks were flushed a deeper red now, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. Her gaze darted back to the floor.

Eunha’s fists tightened at her sides as she took a step closer, her pulse pounding in her ears. The hallway felt oppressively small now, the dim light casting jagged shadows across the walls and your smug face. The faint scent of Umji’s floral perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the unmistakable musk of sweat, creating a cloying atmosphere that made Eunha’s stomach churn.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eunha finally said, her voice low and trembling with fury. Her words were directed at Umji, whose trembling hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

“Eunha, I—” Umji began, her voice cracking as she looked up, her tearful gaze locking with Eunha’s.

“You what?” Eunha snapped, taking another step closer. “You knew. You knew how much I’ve complained about him—how much he’s driven me insane. Hell, I spent hours venting to you, and you always agreed with me. Told me I was right to hate him. And now you’re just… this?”

“It’s not like that,” Umji said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her shoulders curled inward as though she were trying to make herself smaller. “I didn’t plan—”

“Didn’t plan it?” Eunha interrupted, her voice rising. “That’s all you’ve got? You didn’t plan to hook up with him? Do you realize how screwed up this is?” Her voice wavered, her anger laced with hurt that she couldn’t quite hide.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Umji pleaded, her lips trembling as fresh tears filled her eyes. “It was—it was stupid, okay? I made a mistake.”

Eunha let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “A mistake? That’s what this is to you? A mistake?” Her voice cracked as she gestured at the red marks on Umji’s neck, the uneven dress straps, the swollen lips that spoke of the hours Eunha had unwillingly endured through the walls. “You’ve seen how much he’s made my life hell, and now you’re just another name to add to his list.”

“I know I messed up,” Umji whispered, her tears spilling over now, streaking her smudged mascara further. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Eunha shook her head, her chest heaving as she fought the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She turned her glare to you, standing there with that smug, satisfied smirk plastered across your face like this was all some kind of twisted joke. “And you,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re disgusting.”

You shrugged, your smile deepening as you raised your hands in mock innocence. “Hey, don’t blame me for what she wanted.”

The casualness of your response nearly made Eunha snap. Her nails dug into her palms, but she forced herself to take a deep breath, swallowing the venom that threatened to spill over.

“Unbelievable,” Eunha muttered, turning her attention back to Umji. Her voice dropped, quieter now but no less sharp, each word laced with the sting of betrayal. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

Umji opened her mouth, her lips trembling as though she wanted to explain, to apologize, but Eunha didn’t wait to hear it. She spun on her heel, her steps echoing sharply down the hallway as she stormed toward her room. The flickering light overhead illuminated the unshed tears brimming in her eyes, though the heat of her anger kept them from falling. The ache in her chest twisted deeper with every step, but she didn’t dare let it show.

At the threshold of her room, she paused, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the doorframe. She turned, her glare icy and unwavering as it locked onto you. Her voice was curt, sharp enough to cut through the suffocating tension. Enough was enough.

“Look, we need to talk. Now.”

You sighed, the sound heavy with reluctant amusement. “I’ll text you later, okay?” you said smoothly, glancing at Umji as though she wasn’t Eunha’s closest friend, but just another girl in a long string of conquests. Your words carried a deliberate nonchalance, almost as if you’d chosen them specifically to twist the knife deeper.

Umji hesitated, her nervous giggle betraying her unease as she glanced between the two of you. Her hands fluttered to smooth her rumpled dress, but the fabric clung stubbornly to her curves, refusing to cooperate. Her face was still flushed, her tears still wet, and she seemed to shrink under Eunha’s glare. With a small, almost inaudible “sorry,” she wobbled toward the door on unsteady legs, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The sound seemed to echo in the tense silence as the door clicked shut behind her.

The apartment fell into an oppressive quiet, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your demeanor shifted slightly, the amused smirk on your lips fading into something more guarded. You leaned casually against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded Eunha with a faintly raised eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

Eunha didn’t ease into it. Her voice, trembling with hurt and fury, spilled out before she could stop herself. “You know exactly what this is about.  Maybe I could’ve lived with the random girls. Maybe I could’ve dealt with it. But Umji? My best friend? You knew who she was to me, and you still went ahead and—” She choked on the word, her hands trembling as she gestured toward the now-empty hallway. “You went ahead and made her just another body. Another notch on your bedpost. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your expression didn’t change, but your gaze flickered, just for a moment, something unreadable passing across your face. “It’s not like I forced her into anything,” you replied, your tone calm, detached. “She wanted it. That’s on her, not me.”

Eunha stared at you, stunned into silence for a heartbeat before her anger reignited, hotter and sharper than before. “Are you serious right now? She wanted it? She’s my best friend! She’s not just some random girl you can screw and forget about. She’s—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “She’s supposed to matter.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” you asked, your voice maddeningly calm. “It happened. It’s done. Are you mad at me for having fun, or at her for making a choice?”

“Both!” Eunha shouted, her voice echoing through the apartment. “But you—you knew better. You knew exactly what this would do to me, and you did it anyway. Like you didn’t care. Like I don’t matter at all.”

Her chest heaved, her glare blazing with all the hurt she hadn’t yet put into words. Her hands shook as she tried to hold herself together, her nails digging into her palms.

“I’m sick of this,” Eunha snapped after a moment, her tone trembling with barely-contained anger. “Every night, it’s some random girl, and I have to hear everything. I live here too, you know.”

You shrugged, your tone light and dismissive. “Can’t help it if they get loud.”

Her jaw dropped, disbelief flashing across her face before anger surged in to replace it. “Oh, please,” she hissed, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Those moans? They’re all fake, and you know it. You’re not that good.”

The familiar smile crept back onto your face, a gleam of amusement dancing in your eyes. You leaned forward slightly, the air between you growing heavy. “Jealous, are we?”

Eunha stiffened, narrowing her eyes as the heat in her face climbed. “Jealous? Of those bimbos you bring home? Hardly.”

Your smirk widened as you took a half-step closer, closing the already narrowing space between you. “Sounds like jealousy to me. Otherwise, why would you care so much about what happens in my room?”

Eunha’s eyes blazed, “Because it’s my apartment too!” Her voice rose, conviction lacing every word. “I have the right to set some ground rules here. This is supposed to be a home, not a dating service. We need to set some ground rules.”

The tension between you hung thick in the air, almost tangible. The faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen seemed deafening in the charged silence that followed. Your gazes locked, a silent battle of wills playing out in the dimly lit hallway. This wasn’t just about noise anymore; it was about respect, boundaries, and the collision of two people whose lives were incompatible in ways neither was willing to admit.

“Ground rules, huh?” you said finally, your voice low, almost teasing. Your arms remained crossed, but the mischievous sparkle in your eyes returned. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you suggest, then?”

Eunha hesitated, her frustration bubbling to the surface in an exasperated huff. “You can’t bring anyone home anymore.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment, before letting out a bark of laughter that echoed off the walls. “What? You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Eunha replied, her tone firm, her arms crossed tightly in defiance.

You shook your head, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “That’s not going to happen. I’m human; I have needs.”

“Then take them somewhere else, get a hotel room I don't care,” Eunha shot back, her voice steady but laced with challenge.

You tilted your head slightly, studying her with a curious intensity. The tension between you seemed to thrum louder, like a taut string about to snap. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across your face, your eyes lighting up with an idea.

“How about we make things interesting?” you said, your tone dripping with intrigue.

Eunha’s frown deepened, suspicion coloring her features. “How so?”

“A bet.”

“A bet?” she repeated, her tone steeped in skepticism. Her arms remained folded, her glare unwavering. 

Your grin widened, a wicked gleam dancing in your eyes. “Yeah. Since you think they’re all faking it, how about this—we both go down on each other, and the first one to make the other cum wins.”

Eunha blinked, momentarily taken aback. The air in the hallway seemed to thicken, her breath hitching in her throat as the weight of your audacious proposition settled between you. “You’ve got to be joking,” she said, her voice steady but laced with disbelief.

You shrugged nonchalantly, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background punctuating the charged silence. “You said I wasn’t that good. Prove it. If you win, I’ll stop bringing girls over entirely. But if I win…”

Eunha raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. “What’s in it for you?” Her voice carried a sharp edge, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath it, almost imperceptible.

You leaned in slightly, the dim light from the overhead fixture casting a shadow across your face. Your voice dropped to a low, teasing tone, each word dripping with confidence. “You. Anytime, anyplace, for a week.”

Eunha’s breath caught, her pulse quickening as the sheer boldness of your words hit her. Heat crept up her neck, but it wasn’t just anger—it was the challenge, the audacity, the smugness in your tone that fanned the flames of her pride. There was no way you could win, not against her. She was hellbent on the fact that every moan that came out of your room was nothing but an act—girls faking it to stroke your ego because they didn’t know any better. Nothing about you screamed impressive..

“No way we are doing a week; that’s too long,” Eunha countered firmly, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. Her heart raced, but she kept her tone steady.

You were unfazed, leaning back slightly with an exaggerated shrug, as though victory was already in your grasp. “Okay, what about over the course of a week? Three sessions of use with you, same as before, any time, any place.”

Eunha’s jaw tightened as she considered your alternative, the weight of your words settling like a dare she couldn’t refuse. The light buzz of adrenaline coursing through her veins made her palms feel clammy, but she straightened her spine, meeting your gaze with fire in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You’re on.”

Your grin widened, the corners of your mouth curling with triumph, as if you’d already won. “Let’s make some ground rules, then.”

The quiet apartment is suddenly alive with the undercurrent of challenge. The faint creak of the floorboards under your steps seemed louder in the silence. The terms were simple—no hands allowed, and the first one to cum would lose. It wasn’t just a game of skill, but of endurance, control, and unspoken stakes that neither of you fully acknowledged.

As the final terms were set, you led Eunha to your room—a space she’d passed by countless times, now feeling alien and charged with a dangerous intimacy. The air hit her first, thick with the unmistakable scent of musk and lingering arousal. The faint trace of Umji’s floral perfume mingled with something far more primal, twisting in Eunha’s stomach like a knot. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t ignore it—the room still carried her best friend’s presence, an unwelcome ghost that clung to the atmosphere and prickled at Eunha’s skin.

She steeled herself, pushing aside the pang of discomfort. She wasn’t here to wallow or falter. She was here to win. Today, this was her game.

The door clicked shut behind, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the still room. You wasted no time, your movements deliberate as you peeled off your shirt with casual confidence, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting sharp shadows across your skin. Anticipation danced in your dark eyes, glinting with amusement as they traced her figure.

Eunha swallowed hard, a swell of nerves rising in her chest as she met your gaze. But she refused to falter. She reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with a decisive motion, baring herself piece by piece until she stood completely exposed before you—naked and unflinching. The cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that she refused to acknowledge. Her chin tilted up defiantly, her resolve unshaken.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you gestured toward the bed, your lips curling into a smirk. “Ladies first?” you quipped, your voice dripping with amusement.

Eunha shot you a fierce glare, her jaw tightening as she fought the urge to fire back with something sharper. Instead, she climbed onto the bed, her movements purposeful and precise. But the moment her knees hit the mattress, a wave of discomfort washed over her. The dampness beneath her palms was unmistakable, the sheets faintly musky from Umji’s earlier release. A surge of anger flared in her chest, tightening her throat. Her best friend’s ghost clung to this space—this bed—turning what should have been just another challenge into something deeply personal.

You followed her onto the bed, your movements deliberate and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world. You reached out, hands brushing against her hips as you guided her to straddle you. Her legs trembled slightly as she adjusted, the heat of your hands sending a jolt through her body that she stubbornly ignored. You leaned back, your smirk deepening as you settled into the mattress, entirely at ease. The flicker of amusement in your eyes burned against Eunha’s pride, daring her to falter, daring her to lose.

Her breath quickened, her pulse hammering in her ears as she hovered over you. The room seemed to shrink, the space between your bodies charged with a tension that felt almost electric. The scent of musk, sweat, and lingering arousal swirled around them, thick and inescapable, amplifying the intimacy of the moment.

For the first time, as her gaze flickered downward, she noticed something she’d never truly paid attention to before—your length, larger than she had cared to admit. The sheer size of you made her stomach flip, a wave of heat rushing through her so suddenly that it took her breath away. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, as if to stave off the reaction, but the faint ache building within her betrayed her efforts.

Her eyes lingered for a moment too long, tracing the prominent veins and the way you moved with an air of ease that only added to the magnetic pull you exuded. The sight was overwhelming, a reminder of your control, and it sent her mind spinning with thoughts she wasn’t ready to face.

A faint flush crept up her neck, her skin burning with a mixture of embarrassment and something she couldn’t quite name. She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral as she tore her gaze away, her heart pounding in her chest. Determination flickered in her eyes as she tried to bury the reaction deep inside her, willing herself to focus on anything else.

This wasn’t about distractions or nerves; this was about her pride. Her chance to make you crumble as so many others before you had. She wasn’t just playing your game; she was going to win it.

As she leaned closer, the warmth of your skin radiated against hers, the proximity amplifying every sensation. The mattress shifted beneath you both, the springs groaning softly as the challenge truly began.

She began her assault slowly, her tongue tracing along your length, savoring the way you twitched beneath her touch. A smirk curled her lips as she realized you were already responding—a thrill of satisfaction coursed through her. He’s already losing, she thought, emboldened by the spark of confidence igniting within her.

Yet, the tables turned as your hands gripped her hips, pulling her down toward your waiting mouth with a deliberate, unyielding strength. The unexpected forwardness startled her, and she couldn’t help but gasp. Your tongue found her folds, teasingly exploring her with excruciating slowness. The touch sent shivers radiating through her core, making her body tense involuntarily.

Stay focused, she reminded herself, though the heat building inside her made it harder to concentrate. She picked up her pace, taking you deeper into her mouth, swirling her tongue with precision. Each low groan that escaped your lips reverberated through her, sending jolts of satisfaction surging through her. She poured every ounce of her determination into conditioning your reactions, her confidence surging with every twitch, every shallow breath you took.

She sensed her victory was close—your breath quickened, and she could feel you throbbing against her tongue. A few more moments, and she’d have you. She could almost taste the win.

But then, without warning, you shifted, your tongue pressing against a hidden, sensitive spot deep within her. The sudden, sharp jolt of pleasure ripped through her, a sensation so intense it stole her breath. A startled gasp escaped her lips before she could stifle it. And then you followed it up, your mouth latching onto her clit, sucking and teasing with just enough pressure to send her spiraling further into a haze of pleasure. Each flick of your tongue and gentle graze of your teeth seemed designed to dismantle her resolve, targeting every weakness she didn’t know she had.

Her body trembled, betraying her will as waves of ecstasy built within her, each one cresting higher than the last. She struggled to focus, to push forward and finish what she started, but it was no use. You were relentless, and her body was betraying her. Every stroke of your tongue felt impossibly perfect, a symphony of sensations that left her teetering on the edge.

And then it hit her.

The orgasm crashed over her like a thunderclap, a shockwave of pleasure so sudden and intense it left her reeling. It wasn’t just unexpected—it was overwhelming. Her breath hitched, a strangled moan escaping her lips as her entire body bowed against her will. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, a climax so raw and consuming it rivaled her best and obliterated any sense of control she thought she had. Her thighs clamped reflexively around your head, trembling with the force of the pleasure wracking her body. She couldn’t stop herself—the sensation was too much, too all-encompassing to resist.

As the waves of ecstasy reached their peak, you thrust slightly deeper into her mouth, her lips stretched around you as she choked softly on your length. The sensation of being taken so completely sent a fresh jolt of pleasure surging through her, intensifying her climax beyond what she thought was possible. Her body shuddered violently, her muscles tightening as her cries became muffled, the act heightening the overwhelming rush of release.

Every nerve in her body felt electrified, every inch of her skin hypersensitive to the slightest touch. Her heartbeat pounded furiously in her chest, each thrum echoing like a drumbeat in the heavy silence of the room. The way you filled her, the weight of your presence pressing her further into surrender, only amplified the depth of her response, dragging her into a state of pure, unrelenting bliss.

The waves of pleasure seemed endless, each pulse pulling her deeper into the abyss. Her mind blurred, the edges of thought dissolving into a haze of sensation that left her powerless, her breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Time stretched and warped, the peak of ecstasy feeling like an eternity as it consumed her completely.

When the tremors finally subsided, she collapsed against the mattress, her body limp and her mind clouded with disbelief. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her limbs heavy as if weighed down by the aftershocks of her release. The room felt distant, blurred by the haze of ecstasy still humming through her body.

Her lips remained around you, the weight of you resting on her tongue unnoticed at first as her mind buzzed with the intensity of what she had just experienced. Slowly, instinctively, her tongue began to move, tracing along your length in lazy, absent circles. It was almost reflexive, her body responding without thought, as if it craved the connection even as her mind struggled to process the reality of it all.

For a moment, she was lost in the act, her senses dulled and her body still pulsing with residual pleasure. But as clarity returned, the realization struck her like a cold wave. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as her senses snapped back into focus, and she quickly pulled back, her lips parting as she released you.

Her heart pounded as she shifted away, her hands trembling as she tried to gather herself. How could this have happened? The thought lingered, sharp and insistent, as she struggled to reconcile the overwhelming pleasure with the reality that it had been your tongue—and her own instincts—that unraveled her so completely.

Eunha’s frustration boiled as you chuckled beneath her, your low, smug laughter sending waves of embarrassment coursing through her. Pulling back, you rose to a sitting position, your dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Looks like I won,” you said, your voice dripping with self-assured confidence.

A mix of humiliation and indignation simmered in her chest. “No! You… you cheated!” she blurted, scrambling off you in a frantic attempt to reclaim some semblance of dignity. Her movements were hurried and awkward, betraying her flustered state as she tugged at the rumpled sheets to cover herself.

You arched an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curling into a smirk that only deepened her frustration. “Cheated?” you repeated, your tone light, teasing. “Sounds like a sore loser to me.”

Eunha’s jaw tightened as she glared at you, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “You… did something! I don’t know what, but there’s no way! That wasn’t—it doesn’t count!” Her voice wavered as she scrambled for excuses, her mind racing to rewrite what had just happened. “I didn’t even cum—so you didn’t win,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to shift the narrative, even as her own body betrayed her.

Your smirk widened, and you leaned forward, the playful glint in your eyes sparking a fresh wave of heat in her cheeks. “Didn’t cum, huh?” you asked, your voice low and taunting, the kind of tone that made her heart pound in equal parts irritation and something else she refused to name.

Before she could retort, you moved swiftly. Your fingers brushed against her slick folds, gathering the unmistakable evidence of her release. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat as her body jolted at the unexpected touch. You brought your fingers to your lips, savoring the taste with a deliberate, slow flick of your tongue.

Then, closing the distance between you, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, your hands firm against her waist. The taste of herself lingered on your lips, undeniable proof of what had just transpired. “Doesn’t it taste just like cum?” you teased, your words a whispered challenge against her lips.

Eunha froze, her mind spinning as the truth crashed down on her. The heat of your mouth, the unmistakable taste, the trembling in her thighs—there was no denying it. She had climaxed, and you had won.

But she wasn’t ready to admit it.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she snapped, her voice sharp, though it wavered slightly at the edges. She pulled back, her hands trembling as she gestured wildly, trying to regain control of the situation. “You… you probably did something weird—something dirty! I wasn’t even ready! It’s not fair!” Her excuses came out in a rush, desperate and unconvincing even to her own ears.

Your chuckle deepened, rich and mocking, as you watched her unravel. “Face it, Eunha,” you said, your tone dripping with amusement. “I won, fair and square.”

Without any more options, she stumbled to her feet, her movements hurried and frantic as she reached for her discarded clothes. “Whatever,” she muttered, her voice thick with humiliation as she avoided your gaze. “This was a stupid bet anyway.”

But before she could make her escape, a sharp smack echoed through the room as your hand connected playfully with her rear. The stinging heat made her yelp, and she spun around, glaring at you with wide, furious eyes. Her face burned crimson, the mixture of anger and lingering embarrassment practically radiating off her.

“Deal’s a deal,” you said, your voice low and teasing, the grin on your face infuriatingly smug. “I’ll be collecting my prize soon.”

Eunha’s heart pounded, your words settling deep in her chest and sending a strange, unsettling mix of dread and anticipation coursing through her. She couldn’t bring herself to respond, her mouth opening and closing uselessly as she scrambled for a comeback that refused to come.

Without another word, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing sharply down the hallway. The slam of her door reverberated through the apartment, a sharp punctuation to the moment. Alone in her room, Eunha pressed her back against the door, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as her emotions swirled in chaotic waves—anger, embarrassment, and something she refused to name.

-----

The next day, the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Eunha's room, casting delicate golden patterns that danced across the floorboards like restless shadows. The warmth of daylight touched her skin, but it did little to temper the knot of discomfort and anticipation twisting in her stomach. She lay face down on her bed, her laptop propped in front of her, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She typed half-heartedly, forcing herself to focus on the screen. Yet, the weight of your presence in the room made it impossible.

Your quiet breathing behind her felt louder than it should, filling the air with a tension she couldn’t escape. She bit her lip, her body prickling with awareness against her will. This was her sanctuary, her room. A place where she was supposed to feel safe and in control. Yet now, under your gaze, it felt different. Oppressive. Confusing. The line between intrusion and something else entirely blurred in ways she wasn’t ready to face.

“Ready for your first session?” Your voice, low and deliberate, broke through the quiet. The words cut through her thoughts, making her body tense instinctively. She froze, her breath catching, unsure whether it was defiance or dread keeping her silent.  

The bed dipped under your weight, and suddenly, you were there, behind her. She stiffened as your hands brushed over her hips, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. The soft rustle of fabric was deafening in the quiet room. 

She wanted to protest, to tell you she wasn’t enjoying this, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, her breath hitched as your fingers trailed lightly over the curve of her back. Your touch sent tingles racing across her skin, her body responding even as her mind recoiled. It wasn’t fair. She hated how her body betrayed her, how it melted under your hands like it had been waiting for this.

You started slowly, your lips brushing featherlight kisses along her shoulders. She clenched her fists, burying her face into the pillow as you worked your way lower. Each kiss left a trail of heat in its wake, your mouth moving with maddening patience down the length of her back. When your teeth grazed her skin, she let out a muffled gasp, her body jerking slightly before settling back into place.

Eunha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensations overwhelming her. I can't believe this is happening, she thought desperately, her cheeks burning as your lips pressed against the small of her back. She wanted to hate it, hate you, but the way her body responded made it impossible to ignore. Each touch, each teasing bite, only deepened the confusion swirling inside her.

When your lips brushed against the curve of her plump cheeks, she trembled. Her skin tingled as you lingered, planting slow, deliberate kisses before giving a playful nip that sent a jolt through her. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, her breath ragged, her resolve crumbling.

“You’re already reacting so much,” you teased, your voice soft but smug. “I haven’t even touched you.”

Her heart raced at your words, embarrassment and arousal mingling in a way that made her stomach twist. She hated how much she wanted you to keep going, how her body leaned into your touch even as her mind screamed at her to pull away.

Your hands slid down her thighs, coaxing them apart as your fingers finally brushed over her folds. She gasped, the heat pooling in her core undeniable. Why does this feel so good? she thought, biting her lip as you teased her, never quite giving her what she wanted.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone laced with amusement. “Soaking through your sheets, just like your friend.”

Her body trembled as your fingers continued their slow, agonizing exploration. Her breath hitched when you finally slid her shorts down, exposing her fully. She felt vulnerable, raw, and yet… exhilarated.

You gripped her hips, lifting them slightly so her chest remained pressed to the bed. Her back arched naturally, and her cheeks flushed with heat as you adjusted her position, leaving her most sensitive areas exposed. The vulnerability made her heart race, her breath catching in her throat as she felt your presence so close behind her.

Your hands moved deliberately, spreading her cheeks wide. The cool air of the room kissed her exposed skin, making her shiver as the contrast of warmth and chill heightened her awareness. Her breath hitched when she felt the faintest, deliberate puff of air against her sex. The sensation sent a jolt through her, her body clenching instinctively as a soft whimper escaped her lips. Her folds quivered under the sensation, and even the tight ring behind them pulsed faintly in response, betraying her heightened sensitivity.

You chuckled softly, watching as her body reacted under your control. “So sensitive,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. The way her body responded to even the gentlest stimulation was intoxicating. Leaning closer, you let your breath wash over her again, this time more deliberate, the warm puff grazing her slick skin.

The tremble of her folds deepened, her body betraying her completely as the light air teased her again. Her tight ring pulsated under your gaze, the reaction mesmerizing as you held her there, savoring every flicker of her submission. You’re so sexy,” you said softly, your tone filled with admiration. “Your body loves every second of this.”

She whimpered again, burying her face into the mattress as the sensations overwhelmed her. The deliberate teasing left her trembling, her body attuned to every movement, every breath. You watched her, enthralled by the way she surrendered to the moment, her reactions igniting a fire that neither of you could resist.

When your tongue flicked out, finally meeting her folds, she let out a muffled cry, the pillow swallowing her voice. The first touch stole what little resolve she had left, her hips jerking slightly before your firm grip steadied her in place. The heat of your mouth and the coolness lingering from the air created a dizzying contrast that left her gasping.

As your tongue delved deeper, teasing her sensitive nub, her entire body jolted with the intensity of the sensation. You alternated between soft, teasing licks and firm strokes, your hands gripping her hips tightly to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Her legs trembled, her mind a whirlwind of contradictions—she hated this, hated how you were making her feel, and yet, she couldn’t get enough.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured between strokes, your breath warm against her slick skin. “You don’t want to admit it, but your body’s already told me everything I need to know.”

Eunha whimpered, her chest pressing harder into the mattress as she fought against the overwhelming sensations. The way you spoke, the confidence in your voice, sent shivers racing down her spine. She hated that you were right. No matter how much her mind resisted, her body had already surrendered completely.

The safety of her room, once her refuge, now felt foreign. The air was heavy, charged with arousal that clung to every surface. She couldn’t escape it—the pull of her own body responding to you, the way her most vulnerable self was laid bare for your enjoyment. It was maddening. It was exhilarating. And she couldn’t stop it.

Then, to her surprise, you added a finger. The digit entered with no resistance, sliding into her warmth effortlessly as her slickness coated you. When you curled it just right, a sharp cry tore from her lips, muffled by the pillow beneath her. Her body tightened around you, a jolt of pleasure surging through her as her hips rocked back instinctively.

The combination of your tongue, tracing deliberate strokes over her sensitive nub, and the rhythmic motion of your finger inside her sent her spiraling. Her mind became a haze, her thoughts scattering as the sensations grew overwhelming. The tension in her core tightened with every flick, every stroke, building to a crescendo she couldn’t escape.

Her body arched off the bed as the climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that made her gasp and scream into the pillow. The sound was raw, filled with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief. Warm liquid hit your tongue as her release washed over her, her body responding with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated. It was as if her body moved entirely on its own, separate from her mind, completely out of her control.

Her legs shook violently, her thighs trembling against your face as you held her steady. Every nerve in her body felt electrified, the waves of pleasure rolling through her like an unstoppable tide. Her hands clutched at the sheets beneath her, twisting them until the once perfectly made bed was a disheveled mess. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as the aftershocks left her weak and trembling.

As her body began to calm, her mind reeled from the intensity of it all. She had never experienced anything so raw, so all-consuming. It felt like her body wasn’t even hers anymore, like it had betrayed her completely. The humiliation of that realization mixed with the undeniable satisfaction thrumming through her veins, creating a cocktail of emotions that left her dizzy.

You pulled back slowly, savoring the sight of her undone beneath you. Your lips brushed one last kiss against her inner thigh, a soft, deliberate reminder of the control you held over her. “One down,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction.

Eunha collapsed fully against the bed, her body melting into the mattress as her limbs refused to move. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her skin flushed and slick with sweat. She buried her face into the pillow, her mind scrambling to process what had just happened. Shame flickered in the back of her thoughts, but it was drowned out by the lingering heat of her arousal.

She hated herself for how much she’d wanted it, for how completely she had surrendered to you. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push away the memory of your touch. The echo of your lips, your fingers, and the way her body had responded to you replayed in her mind like a vivid dream she couldn’t shake.

Even as she lay there, trembling and spent, a part of her was terrified by how much she craved more. She wasn’t fully yours yet—but the seed had been planted. And deep down, she knew that resisting you would only get harder from here.

-----

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine,” Eunha said softly, her voice light but tinged with just enough warmth to reassure her mother. She leaned back against the couch, the phone pressed firmly to her ear. Her mother’s concern was a comforting constant, a tether to the normalcy Eunha was trying desperately to cling to.

“Are you sure? You’ve sounded tired lately,” her mother said, the familiar tone of worry pulling a faint smile from Eunha despite the storm brewing within her.

“I’m just busy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” she replied, her words practiced, as if they could steady her own wavering thoughts.

Her mother’s warm laugh filtered through the line, wrapping around her like a blanket. “You always say that. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Eunha said, her chest tightening at the kindness in her mother’s voice. She focused on the conversation, trying to lose herself in its comfort, but the weight of your presence was impossible to ignore.

You were there, lounging beside her on the couch, your energy filling the room like a storm cloud. When her gaze flicked to you, her heart stuttered. The lazy grin on your lips, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes—it was enough to send a rush of heat coursing through her. She swallowed hard, her voice catching slightly as her mother spoke again.

“Have you been eating properly? You tend to forget when you get busy,” her mother said, concern softening her words.

“I’m eating just fine,” Eunha replied quickly, her tone betraying the distraction tugging at her. She gripped the phone tighter, forcing herself to focus on her mother’s voice even as your hand brushed lightly against her thigh.

Her body jolted at the touch, her breath hitching, though she tried to disguise it with a soft laugh. “Really, Mom, everything’s fine,” she said, the words feeling hollow as her pulse raced.

Her heart skipped a beat as your hand moved up her thigh, warm and commanding. Your fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over her skin, igniting a storm of sensations that made it nearly impossible for her to focus on her mother’s words. The phone trembled slightly in her hand as you leaned closer, your breath ghosting against her ear. “Ready for round two?” you murmured, your voice low and teasing.

Before she could process the words, you acted. With a swift, practiced motion, you pulled her into your lap, your hands firm yet gentle as they guided her into place. Her breath hitched as her body pressed against yours, her mind spinning from the sheer audacity of it all. The world outside—her mother’s voice on the line, the faint hum of the city beyond the window—faded into a muted blur as you moved with ease.

The hem of her shirt lifted in your hands, your fingers brushing her bare skin as you removed it with an insouciance that sent shivers through her. Her cheeks burned as the air touched her exposed skin, but her body betrayed her resolve.

A breathy moan escaped her lips when you shifted below her, the sound of your movements mixing with her moms voice. Her breath hitched as you reached down, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts. Her body tensed, her head turning slightly as if she wanted to see, but she stopped herself, the anticipation overwhelming. The moment was thick with tension as you freed your length, the weight and heat of it brushing against her skin briefly, sending a shiver racing up her spine.

Eunha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the reality of what was about to happen set in. For the first time, she realized just how much she had underestimated you. Her mind raced, but her body stayed still, her breath shallow and uneven as you positioned yourself 

Eunha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the reality of what was about to happen set in. For the first time, she realized just how much she had underestimated you. Her mind raced, but her body stayed still, her breath shallow and uneven as you positioned yourself beneath her. The weight of your hands on her hips steadied her, though the heat radiating between you only heightened her anticipation.

She hovered above you, her entrance brushing against the head of your length, and a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips. The first press of you against her made her thighs tremble slightly, the stretch unfamiliar yet electrifying. Slowly, you guided her downward, the head of your length pushing into her with deliberate, measured pressure.

Her walls tightened instinctively, gripping you as her body adjusted to your size. A gasp broke free from her lips, her head tilting back as the sensation overwhelmed her. Inch by inch, you filled her, the stretch igniting her nerves as her body accommodated the fullness. It wasn’t just the physicality—it was the sheer intensity of the moment, the raw connection that sent her senses spiraling.

Eunha bit down on her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh in a desperate attempt to stifle the sounds rising in her throat. The effort was futile. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure radiating through her, the heat pooling in her core intensifying with every passing second. Her breath hitched as you bottomed out, the depth leaving her trembling in your lap.

You paused, letting her adjust, your hands firm on her hips as you held her steady. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her body caught between the sharp stretch and the intoxicating pleasure. Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, a wordless reaction to the overwhelming sensation of being completely taken.

Her mother’s voice on the other end of the phone became a distant murmur, a faint and meaningless thread lost in the overwhelming symphony of sensations coursing through her body.

Each deep, measured thrust sent shockwaves rippling through her, igniting every nerve as though you’d found a secret, untouched place within her. Your hips snapped upward with precision, each motion deliberate and unhurried, as though you were savoring every reaction. At the same time, your hands pulled her down, controlling her movements to ensure that every thrust hit its mark, driving her closer to the edge. The friction was intoxicating, the way her body yielded to yours making her thighs tremble as the pleasure intensified.

Her breath hitched as you shifted your focus, your lips trailing over the curve of her neck before descending to her chest. Your tongue traced a path over her skin before taking one of her breasts into your mouth, your tongue flicking expertly over her hardened nipple. Her free hand flew to her mouth, muffling the moan that threatened to escape as waves of pleasure surged through her. The warmth of your mouth and the deliberate pace of your movements ignited a fire that spread through her like molten lava, leaving no part of her untouched.

Her thighs quivered as she fought to stay silent, her nails digging into your shoulders as if clinging to the last thread of her composure. But it was a losing battle. Each thrust, each flick of your tongue, and every teasing bite pushed her further into a realm of bliss that shattered her carefully constructed facade. The conversation with her mother became meaningless—a forgotten backdrop to the intensity of what was happening between you.

You pressed deeper, your movements deliberate, each one unraveling her defenses layer by layer. Her breath hitched as you shifted slightly, your fingers tightening on her hips. Her mind swam in a haze of pleasure as you grazed your teeth lightly against the sensitive bud. The sharpness of the sensation sent a shockwave through her, her entire body jerking against you.

And then you slipped a finger into her tight ring, the unexpected intrusion sending her over the edge. Her back arched violently, her head tilting back as her body trembled uncontrollably. The combination of sensations—the fullness of your length inside her, the teasing graze of your teeth, and the pressure of your finger—coalesced into an overwhelming wave of pleasure that consumed her completely.

The crescendo hit her like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from her lungs as her orgasm crashed over her with ferocious intensity. Her thighs clamped tightly around your hips as the pleasure tore through her, her moans growing louder despite her efforts to hold them back. In a panic, she fumbled to mute the call with her mother, but the moment she did, a loud scream burst from her lips, unrestrained and raw.

Her body quivered against you, every muscle tensing and relaxing in rhythm with the pulsating pleasure coursing through her. Her nails raked down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as she rode the waves of her climax. Her forehead pressed against your shoulder, her gasps ragged and desperate as the aftershocks rippled through her.

And then she felt it.

The warmth bloomed deep inside her as you finished, your release spilling into her in long, deliberate pulses. The sensation sent a fresh jolt through her already trembling body, her walls clenching around you involuntarily as if to hold you in place. The heat filled her completely, leaving her both stunned and overwhelmed. Her mind reeled, trying to process the depth of the intimacy while her body betrayed her, savoring the connection.

As her breathing slowed, her thoughts darkened. Images of the countless one-night stands you had brought home flashed through her mind—the strangers whose laughter and moans had echoed through these walls, the women she had heard but never seen. Now, she was one of them. Claimed, used, another conquest to add to your list.

Her chest tightened at the thought, but her body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure, betraying the conflict swirling within her. She couldn’t deny how incredible it had felt, how consuming and raw the experience was. But the realization of what she had become—just one of the many—sent a pang of shame through her, mixed with an undeniable longing for more.

For a moment, the world dissolved into nothing but sensation. Her body was a trembling, overwhelmed mess in your grasp, and all she could feel was the heat of your skin, the pressure of your hands holding her, and the lingering pleasure that left her utterly spent. The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a visceral reminder of the line she had crossed.

“Two down,” you murmured against her neck, your voice low and teasing, each word sending another shiver down her spine. The words hung in the air, heavy and electric, as you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. The intensity in your eyes made her heart race all over again, her body igniting anew despite the exhaustion flooding her limbs.

Her hands shook as she scrambled to end the call, stammering a breathless goodbye to her mother before collapsing against you. Her cheek rested against your chest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as her mind spun with disbelief.

How had she allowed herself to get here? How had she unraveled so completely, lost so thoroughly in sensations she had once sworn she could resist? Yet, even as she wrestled with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, a part of her couldn’t deny the truth. Deep down, beneath the lingering embarrassment and self-reproach, there was a flicker of anticipation.

She wanted more.

-----

After two consecutive days of passion and intensity, the abrupt break that followed was a mixed blessing for Eunha. On one hand, her body welcomed the respite—the soreness in her thighs and the dull ache in her hips lingered like an intimate reminder of the fervent connection you shared. On the other hand, the absence of scheduled sessions left her restless. Her mind became a storm, every stray thought spiraling back to you.

Each moment apart felt like an eternity. Her memories replayed like a fevered dream—the way your hands had explored her body with unerring precision, the intoxicating sound of your voice murmuring against her skin, the way you pulled her under your spell with every electrifying touch. She couldn’t escape the lingering echoes of your presence, the phantom feeling of your fingers tracing her curves. The ache of longing bloomed inside her chest, a dull, throbbing need that refused to be ignored.

She hated how much she craved you. Her body, once entirely her own, now seemed attuned to the thought of you, as though it anticipated your every move. Her breath would hitch at the memory of your thrusts, stirring a deep, primal hunger that sent shivers through her spine when she let her mind linger too long. How did it come to this? She couldn’t decide whether it was desire or dependency, but whatever it was, it consumed her.

As the days stretched on, the tension between you became almost unbearable. Eunha caught herself stealing glances at you in the shared spaces of your lives. You moved with infuriating ease, your calm confidence a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside her. Every fleeting look you gave her, every shared smile or casual brush of your hand against hers, felt like a spark threatening to ignite the tightly coiled tension between you. Her pulse would quicken whenever your eyes met, her breath catching as the air thickened with an unspoken promise.

And yet, you kept your distance. Aloof but ever-present, your quiet self-assurance was a maddening reminder of her own unraveling. Each encounter left her nerves frayed, her thoughts tangled in a web of anticipation and longing.

In the quiet hours, Eunha’s thoughts betrayed her. She would sip her morning coffee and imagine your lips brushing hers, your hands gripping her waist. She would read under the warm glow of sunlight, only to find herself yearning for the warmth of your body pressed against hers. The ache of your absence seeped into her dreams, your touch haunting her even there. When she thought of the inevitable final session, her heart would race, her mind spinning with fantasies of how it might feel. The thought was intoxicating—and utterly crushing in its reminder of the emptiness that filled the spaces between your meetings.

Finally, on the last day of the week, Eunha sat at her desk, her laptop glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. The document on the screen was an empty void, the blinking cursor a silent accusation. She stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, willing herself to type something—anything—but her mind was a chaotic swirl, and the still-blank page spoke volumes. No words came. No work was done.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, anticipation coiling tight in her stomach. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know you were there. Your presence was magnetic, filling the air with a weight that pressed against her like a physical force. The faint rhythm of your footsteps approached, each step resonating like a heartbeat in the otherwise silent room.

The air grew charged, humming with unspoken words and unresolved tension. It was an invisible thread connecting the two of you, tightening with each passing moment. Eunha’s fingers twitched over the keyboard, a futile attempt to pretend she hadn’t already surrendered to the moment before it even began.

You came up behind her without a word, your hands sliding over her shoulders with deliberate ease. The heat of your touch sent a ripple through her, her body responding instantly. Her breath hitched as a shiver raced down her spine, her concentration on the empty screen obliterated in an instant.

Your fingers kneaded her tense muscles with just enough pressure to make her melt against the chair. Each movement was slow, confident, deliberate. She could feel the warmth of your body close to hers, the faint scent of your cologne mingling with the sterile hum of the office air. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, torn between surrender and resistance, her thoughts spinning as she tried to reconcile the electric pull of your presence.

“It’s time for the last session,” you whispered, your breath warm against the shell of her ear. Your voice was low, rich, each word wrapping around her like a caress. The syllables lingered, thick with promise and urgency, igniting a spark deep within her.

Her body tensed under your touch, caught between the intoxicating pull of your words and the anticipation coursing through her veins. She turned her head slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but the words died in her throat. The moment hung suspended, taut and electric, as though the air itself awaited her next move.

Before Eunha could find her voice, you effortlessly pulled her up from her chair. Her laptop screen dimmed, forgotten, as you turned her toward the desk in one fluid motion. Her breath hitched as you bent her over the cool surface, the sensation of the hard edge pressing against her chest grounding and thrilling all at once. She gasped softly when your hands slid down her sides, warm and deliberate, moving with practiced ease.

You worked methodically, your fingers grazing her skin as you peeled away her clothes. Each layer fell away like petals from a flower, leaving her bare and vulnerable under your touch. The chill of the air kissed her exposed skin, sending goosebumps rippling across her body, and the heat of your hands against her only deepened the contrast. She gripped the edge of the desk, her fingers curling tightly around it as anticipation built in her chest.

Her skin tingled with anticipation, every nerve alive and sensitive as you positioned yourself behind her. This dance, though familiar, felt new each time—each touch, each shared breath igniting a fire that burned brighter than the last. The air between you was thick, charged with the tension of the moment, and the faint scrape of fabric as you removed the last barrier between you only heightened the anticipation.

Your hands gripped her hips firmly, steadying her as you align yourself with her entrance. The heat of your length brushed against her folds, eliciting a sharp inhale as her body quivered beneath you. But instead of easing inside, you teased her—grazing her entrance with just the tip, almost like a kiss.

Her breath came in uneven gasps, her fingers curling tightly against the edge of the desk. Each deliberate nudge, each tantalizing brush of your head against her, sent jolts of pleasure through her, teasing her already heightened senses. Her body reacted instinctively, her hips rolling back in an effort to meet you, seeking the fullness you held just out of reach. But just as she pushed against you, you pulled away, your teasing smirk audible in the low chuckle that escaped your lips.

Her thighs trembled, her body caught in the maddening limbo between anticipation and relief. You continued the game, pressing just enough to stretch her slightly, letting her feel the promise of you, before retreating again. The sound of her labored breathing filled the room, punctuated by the soft creak of the desk beneath her. The tension built like a coiled spring, her body humming with need, every nerve screaming for release.

Finally, you gripped her hips tighter and pressed forward, the slow, deliberate stretch as you entered her drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. Her back arched instinctively as she adjusted to your size, her fingers digging into the desk for support. The moment was raw and electric, her body trembling as the fullness consumed her.

As you began to move, you shifted your grip, one hand trailing down to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to her bare cheek. The sound cracked through the air, followed by a jolt of heat that made her gasp. Her body tensed under your touch, a mix of surprise and exhilaration coursing through her. Another slap followed, the sting sending ripples of pleasure racing through her as she clenched around you.

“You like that,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you rubbed the reddened skin, soothing it before delivering another sharp smack. Each impact sent her higher, her body responding to every combination of pain and pleasure as you set a rhythm that left her breathless.

Your thrusts grew deeper, more deliberate, each movement precise and commanding as you drove her closer to the edge. The heat of your body pressed against her, the cool surface of the desk beneath her, and the lingering sting of your spanks combined to heighten her senses, leaving her utterly at your mercy. Her hips rocked back to meet your thrusts now, her movements instinctive and desperate, as though her body had been made to follow your lead.

Eunha clung to the desk, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind spiraled into the haze of passion. Rational thought dissolved into nothingness, replaced by the primal need to surrender completely. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of heat and desire that left her trembling and undone.

Before Eunha could steady herself, your hand slid up her back, tracing her spine with deliberate slowness before gripping the base of her ponytail. The sharp tug tilted her head back, arching her spine and forcing her to press closer against you. The motion was commanding, almost primal, and paired with the rhythmic slap of your hips against hers, it sent a new wave of shivers coursing through her body.

The sting of your earlier spanks lingered, the heat radiating from her reddened skin intensifying the contrast between pleasure and pain. Your grip on her ponytail tightened, using it as leverage to drive yourself deeper. Each thrust was deliberate, precise, and powerful, eliciting soft cries from her that grew louder with every movement. You felt her clenching around you, her body gripping you tighter with each spank and every commanding tug of her hair.

“You’re squeezing me so hard,” you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. Another sharp slap landed on her cheek, and she cried out, the sound breaking into a breathless moan as her body trembled under you. “You like this, don’t you? Being bent over your desk like this, letting me take you however I want.”

Eunha could barely form a coherent thought, let alone respond. The mixture of pleasure and domination was overwhelming, her body instinctively rocking back to meet you. Her hips moved in time with yours, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through her as her nails scraped against the desk, seeking any semblance of grounding in the storm you were creating.

Suddenly, your eyes flicked to her laptop, the screen darkened from inactivity. With a curious smirk, you reached over her, pressing on the trackpad to awaken it. The screen lit up, revealing a blank document, the cursor blinking idly as if mocking her attempt to focus.

You leaned forward slightly, your chest pressing lightly against her back, your lips brushing her ear as you murmured, “You were just waiting for me, weren’t you? Faking work just so I could come and interrupt.”

The words struck her like a lightning bolt, their truth sending her already racing heart into overdrive. She let out a shaky breath, her throat tightening as her mind reeled from the vulnerability you so effortlessly exposed. Yet, it only heightened the sensations coursing through her, the mix of humiliation and desire spiraling into something she could no longer resist.

Your pace quickened, each thrust driving deeper as the sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with her ragged gasps and breathless moans. The steady pull of her ponytail guided her body into perfect alignment, each movement drawing you closer to her deepest, most sensitive spots. Her walls clenched tighter around you, her body reacting instinctively to the rhythm you commanded.

“You’re so tight,” you groaned, your voice tinged with both exertion and satisfaction. The grip on her ponytail tightened again as your free hand traced down her back, gripping her waist to hold her steady. The push and pull of your motions became a dance of raw intensity, every movement calculated to pull her further into the abyss of pleasure.

Eunha’s breaths turned to sharp cries, her voice rising in pitch as her body betrayed her, hurtling toward release. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, the tension within her building to an unbearable crescendo. Each thrust, each slap, each tug of her ponytail sent her spiraling closer to the edge, her body arching as if begging for the final push.

And then it came. A powerful thrust paired with the sting of another spank tipped her over, the orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. She let out a scream, her body quaking violently as every fiber of her being surrendered to the ecstasy you’d drawn out of her. Her walls pulsed around you, gripping you with a ferocity that only amplified your own pleasure.

Her forehead pressed against the desk as her moans softened into shaky breaths, her body trembling beneath you as aftershocks rippled through her. Your pace slowed but remained deliberate, drawing out every last ounce of her pleasure as you admired the way she clung to you, utterly spent.

“Look at you,” you murmured, releasing her ponytail and running your hand down her back, soothing the reddened marks left by your grip. “Completely undone.”

Eunha could barely form a reply, her breath still coming in uneven gasps as she slowly emerged from the haze of her climax. Her fingers flexed weakly against the desk, her legs quivering as she struggled to regain her footing.

But even in her exhaustion, a flicker of anticipation lingered in her chest. The intensity of what she’d just experienced wasn’t just overwhelming—it was addictive. And as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t wait to see what came next.

As the tremors of her orgasm subsided, you pulled out, her walls gripping you one last time before reluctantly releasing you. The slickness of her release coated your length, gleaming in the dim light as you admired the way her body trembled beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a swift yet deliberate motion, your hand came down on her ass with a sharp spank, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. She let out a startled gasp, her body jolting slightly as the sting spread across her reddened cheek. Your hand lingered, kneading the warm, tender flesh as you smirked, savoring the sight of her arching beneath your touch.

“I just love your ass,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Your fingers traced the curve of her cheek, your tone dripping with admiration as you added, “So perfect. I could play with it all day.”

You punctuated your words by gripping both cheeks firmly, your thumbs sinking into the soft flesh before giving them a playful jiggle. The motion sent another wave of heat through her already oversensitized body, drawing a soft whimper from her lips as her legs quivered beneath her.

“You’re amazing,” you continued, your hands continuing to explore her, alternating between gentle squeezes and sharp slaps. The way her skin bounced under your touch captivated you, and you couldn’t resist watching her reactions—the way she trembled, the way her breath hitched with each motion.

Her body arched slightly, the mix of tenderness and dominance in your touch making her head spin. Every squeeze, every jiggle, every deliberate spank reminded her of how utterly at your mercy she was—and how much she relished it.

Your hand lingered, kneading the tender flesh, your fingers digging in just enough to draw another shiver from her. The mix of dominance and care made her head spin, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip as you leaned down to murmur against her ear, “We’re not done yet.”

A flicker of protest flashed in her hazy mind, and she opened her mouth to speak, her voice weak and breathless. “I… I don’t think…” she began, her words trailing off as the weight of your presence pressed against her. But even as her mind tried to form a coherent objection, her body betrayed her, arching instinctively into your touch.

“Shhh,” you murmured softly, your tone soothing yet unyielding. “I know you can take it.”

You stepped away briefly, leaving her bent over the desk, her body still trembling as she tried to collect herself. The sound of a drawer opening and the faint rustle of movement sent a thrill of anticipation racing through her. She bit her lip, her nails digging into the desk as her body tensed with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. When you returned, the cool sensation of lube on your fingers as you coated your length made her breath hitch, a fresh wave of nervous energy coursing through her.

With practiced ease, you spread her cheeks, revealing her tight, puckered hole. She let out a shaky breath, her voice catching as she whispered, “Wait… I’m not sure about this.”

Her words were feeble, lacking conviction, and you simply chuckled, low and teasing. “Trust me,” you said, your tone filled with quiet confidence. 

Her breath hitched as she felt a cold drop of lube land directly on her hole, the sensation startling yet oddly thrilling. Her body tensed, and she squirmed slightly beneath your hands, but the warmth of your palms steadying her hips kept her grounded. You positioned yourself, the tip of your length pressing lightly against her ring. You didn’t push in yet, letting her feel the pressure, making her hyper-aware of what was about to happen.

You stayed there, your presence a quiet, commanding force as she processed the moment. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as the reality of her vulnerable position washed over her. The heat of your length against her and the weight of your hands on her body sent conflicting waves of tension and anticipation coursing through her.

“Anywhere I want,” you reminded her, your voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down her spine.

You began to press forward, the tight ring of muscle yielding slowly as you eased in. The stretch was intense, her gasp sharp and unrestrained as she clutched the edge of the desk. “I—wait, it’s too much,” she stammered, her voice shaky, her body trembling under you as her nerves warred with the raw, growing pleasure.

“You can take it,” you murmured, your hand stroking her back in reassurance even as you pushed further. Her protests faltered, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the sensation overwhelmed her. She could feel every ridge, every vein along your length as you pushed deeper, her body adjusting inch by inch. The mix of discomfort and raw pleasure left her dizzy, her legs quivering as she struggled to hold herself steady.

Halfway in, you paused, your hands steadying her hips. Her breathing was ragged, her body adjusting to the fullness. You reached down with one hand, your fingers finding her clit, circling it gently. The sensation made her cry out, her body clenching around you as the pleasure collided with the stretch of your entry. Her walls pulsed with every deliberate flick of your fingers, sending ripples of sensation through her core and tightening her grip on your length.

“Breathe,” you murmured, your tone firm but reassuring as you let her adjust.

You then proceeded and when you finally bottomed out, you held the position, the sensation of her tightness surrounding you utterly consuming. She was warm and slick, her body trembling as she adjusted to the new fullness. Her breathing came in shaky gasps, her body betraying her as the mix of pain and pleasure exhilarated her in ways she hadn’t expected.

She felt incredible—nothing like she had ever experienced before—and it ignited something deep within her. Her hips began to shift, pressing back against you in tentative movements. The message was clear, and you smirked, taking it as your cue to start.

Your thrusts began slowly, deliberate and deep, each one drawing a soft cry from her lips as the rhythm built. Your hand remained between her legs, teasing her folds and circling her clit, amplifying the sensations that coursed through her. Every motion was calculated, every thrust designed to send her higher, to push her further into the haze of ecstasy that clouded her mind.

Her body responded instinctively, her hips rocking back to meet you as the rhythm quickened. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with her gasps and moans. You felt her clenching around you, her body tightening with every stroke, every flick of your fingers against her sensitive nub.

“Admit it,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, the words brushing against her ear like a caress. “You love being used by me. I unlocked something for you, didn’t I, Eunha?”

Her breath hitched at your words, her body trembling beneath you as she struggled to reply. Her voice came out in broken gasps, her words tumbling free before she could stop them. “Yes… yes… it feels so good,” she cried, her voice trembling with raw need. “I’m so full with you…”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you tighten  your grip on her hips, driving into her with renewed intensity. Her cries grew louder, her body writhing beneath you as you pushed her closer to the edge. The pressure of your fingers on her clit, the heat of your body against hers, the stretch of every deliberate thrust—it was overwhelming, consuming her completely.

The build-up was relentless, her cries becoming more desperate, her body trembling as she teetered on the brink. The room echoed with her sounds—moans, gasps, and finally, a scream that tore from her throat as her climax hit. It was raw, unrestrained, the kind of sound she had once dismissed as fake when it came from the women you brought home before her. But now, those same sounds were spilling from her lips, unbidden, as the waves of pleasure ripped through her.

Her ring clenched tightly around you, her body convulsing as the orgasm consumed her. Every nerve in her body felt electrified, her cries piercing the air as she lost herself completely to the sensation. You didn’t stop, your hands gripping her hips with a firm intensity as you thrust deeper, chasing your own release.

When you finally spilled into her, the heat of your release filling her tightest depths, it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The warmth spread through her, a sensation so alien and overwhelming it triggered another wave of pleasure that slammed into her like a tidal wave. Her back arched sharply, her thighs quivering as the combined sensation of fullness and release sent her spiraling into an even more powerful climax.

Her entire body trembled violently, her ring pulsing around you in rhythm with the aftershocks of her ecstasy. She was lost in the overwhelming sensations, unable to distinguish where her pleasure ended and yours began. Her voice broke into gasps and sobs of pleasure, the intensity leaving her breathless and lightheaded.

You leaned over her, your breath warm against her ear as your hands steadied her trembling form. Your fingers pinched her clit once more, a teasing stroke that sent her collapsing against the desk as the aftershocks rippled through her again. Her mind was a haze, her body slick with sweat, and all she could feel was the lingering, overwhelming sensation of being utterly claimed.

As her breathing slowed, her mind began to catch up to what her body had just experienced. The heat of your release still lingered deep inside her, a visceral reminder of how completely she had surrendered to the moment. For a fleeting second, she felt a rush of pride—this was hers now, the pleasure, the intensity, the connection. And yet, a part of her couldn’t shake the realization that this sensation, so intimate and raw, had once been shared with others before her.

But none of that mattered at this moment. All she could do was gasp for air, her body trembling against yours as the room spun around her, the aftermath of your shared ecstasy leaving her utterly undone.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, your tone filled with satisfaction as you felt her body quiver beneath you. “All done. I knew you had it in you.”

Her legs gave out as the aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her limp and utterly spent. You held her close for a moment, letting her catch her breath, before you began to pull back. Slowly, deliberately, you exited her, and the sensation left her gasping softly. The emptiness hit her like a sudden void, her body instinctively clenching as if to draw you back in, but you were already gone.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the cool air brushed over her now-gaping ring, the absence of your presence making her feel incomplete. A strange, hollow ache settled deep within her, as though a part of her was missing. She bit her lip, suppressing the odd sense of longing that threatened to bubble up, her mind torn between shame and the raw need still thrumming through her veins.

You stepped back, letting your gaze linger for a moment on the sight of her. She was utterly undone, her body slack and trembling, her skin glistening with sweat. The way she looked—spent and marked—sent a surge of satisfaction through you. Before leaving her entirely, you raised a hand and delivered one last sharp smack to her reddened cheeks, the sound cracking through the room.

Eunha flinched at the sudden sting, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Her body shivered in response, her cheeks burning with a fresh wave of heat as the mark of your control lingered on her skin. The smack felt like a punctuation to everything that had just happened, a reminder of the claim you had staked on her.

As you stepped away, she remained draped over the desk, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her mind swirled with disbelief and exhilaration as the realization of what had just happened fully hit her. She had never felt anything like this—never thought it was even possible. Her body still tingled, every nerve hypersensitive, and yet the absence of you left her feeling unmoored, yearning for something more. She leaned against the desk, spent and vulnerable, the weight of the moment settling over her like a warm yet haunting blanket.

-----

By the end of the week, Eunha had stopped fighting the inevitable. She had surrendered to your connection, letting you take what you wanted, each encounter intensifying the bond that tethered you together. Every touch, every glance, every whispered word deepened the intimacy between you. And in the quiet aftermath, when your breathing had steadied and her body still buzzed with the memory of your touch, she found herself wanting more. Not just the physical connection, but the unspoken exclusivity that seemed to linger in the air between you.

She wanted to be the only one you touched, the only one you claimed, the only one you used.

But then the week ended, and reality came crashing down.

You walked through the door with another girl, your laughter ringing out like a cruel reminder of everything she wasn’t. The sight hit Eunha like a blow, sharp and unforgiving. Her heart sank as she froze in the doorway of her room, her fingers gripping the frame as if to steady herself. SinB. Of all people, it had to be SinB.

Her mind raced as she watched you chat effortlessly, your hand brushing SinB’s arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you smiled at her, leaned in just slightly as you spoke, set Eunha’s blood boiling. This wasn’t just disrespect—this felt personal. Jealousy burned hot inside her, laced with a bitter sting of betrayal. After everything you’d shared, how could you act so indifferent? And with her friend, no less.

SinB giggled at something you said, the sound twisting in Eunha’s stomach like a knife. Her jaw clenched as she watched the two of you move down the hall, your casual smirk cutting through her like a dagger. Her stomach churned as you opened your bedroom door, ushering SinB inside like this was just another meaningless encounter.

The door clicked shut, and something inside her snapped.

Before she could think twice, Eunha’s feet carried her down the hall, her heart pounding in her chest as rage surged through her. Without hesitation, she shoved the door open, the force of it startling both you and SinB.

“Eunha!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with surprise as you turned to face her.

“Get out,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury as her gaze locked onto SinB.

SinB blinked, confusion etched across her face as she looked between you and Eunha. “Uh… excuse me?”

“I said, get out,” Eunha repeated, her tone sharp and unyielding. Her eyes burned with a fire that left no room for argument.

“Eunha, what is going on?” SinB asked, her voice rising in disbelief. “Why are you acting like this?”

“You know exactly why,” Eunha snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. “Just go.”

SinB hesitated, her expression a mix of confusion and annoyance, before grabbing her purse and muttering something under her breath. She glanced at you as if for an explanation, but you said nothing, your calm gaze fixed on Eunha instead. SinB huffed, brushing past Eunha as she left the room. The sound of the front door closing was loud in the ensuing silence.

Eunha’s hands clenched into fists at her sides as she took a step closer, her anger spilling over. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You tilted your head slightly, your expression infuriatingly casual. “Care to elaborate?”

“SinB?” she hissed, her voice low but trembling with emotion. “Are you just making the rounds of my friends now? Is that it? First Umji, and now this?”

Your smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in your eyes—curiosity, perhaps. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval.”

“You don’t,” she shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “But I trusted you, and you… You’re doing this on purpose. You’re trying to—” She cut herself off, her chest heaving as she struggled to find the words. “Are you trying to humiliate me? To make me feel like nothing?”

You stepped closer, your voice calm, almost soothing. “You’re taking this awfully personally, Eunha.”

“Of course I am!” she snapped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You used me, and now you’re—what? Moving on to the next? Except it’s not just anyone, is it? You’re picking my friends. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

The tension in the room was thick, the air crackling with the weight of unspoken emotions. You studied her carefully, your gaze steady as you leaned back slightly. “And why does it bother you so much? Why does it matter who I bring here?”

Eunha’s breath hitched, her anger faltering for a moment as the question hung between you. She swallowed hard, her fists loosening at her sides. “Because it’s not just about them,” she admitted, her voice softer now but no less raw. “It’s about me. It’s about what I thought we had.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the distance between you feeling both too much and not enough. For the first time, Eunha’s vulnerability was laid bare, and the weight of her words hung in the air like a challenge.

Eunha’s hands trembled as she stood in the center of your room, her chest heaving with the effort to keep her emotions in check. The silence between you was deafening, her words hanging in the air as she tried to make sense of everything she was feeling. The betrayal, the anger, the jealousy—all of it swirled inside her like a storm, but underneath it all was a need she couldn’t deny. A need for you to understand what this had done to her.

You raised a brow, completely unfazed by her confession. “What’s your problem?”

Eunha’s chest tightened, her heart pounding as she struggled to find the right words. “After everything… after this whole week, you just go back to bringing some other girl home like it was nothing?”

Your expression darkened slightly, though your tone remained calm. “Our deal’s over, Eunha. I didn’t think it was a big deal anymore.”

“It is a big deal!” she shot back, her voice cracking with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. Her eyes burned as she stared at you, willing you to see how much this mattered to her. “You used me all week. You touched me like I was yours, like I was the only one. And now you just… move on like none of it mattered?”

You stepped closer, your movements deliberate and measured, the space between you shrinking as your voice dropped. “What did you expect? It was a bet, Eunha. You lost. That’s all there was to it.”

Her breath hitched at your words, the weight of them landing like a blow to her chest. She shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. “No. You can’t tell me it didn’t mean something. You can’t just act like I’m the same as the rest.”

Your gaze softened for a fleeting moment, though your casual demeanor didn’t falter entirely. “And what if you’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter now, almost teasing. “What are you trying to say, Eunha?”

Her hands trembled at her sides as the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I want to be the only one. The only one you… use.”

The air between you grew heavy with the weight of her admission. Her chest heaved as she looked up at you, her eyes burning with emotion. For the first time, her vulnerability was laid bare, her need for you undeniable.

You stepped closer, the distance between you almost nonexistent now. “That’s what you want?” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “You want to be mine?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

Your hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as your lips curled into a smirk. “Prove it.”

She blinked, her breath hitching at the challenge in your voice. “How?” she asked softly.

Without answering, you stepped back, gesturing toward the floor in front of the couch. “Kneel,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Eunha hesitated for only a moment before sinking to her knees, the plush carpet soft beneath her as her hands rested awkwardly at her sides. Her body trembled under the weight of your gaze, her heart racing as she obeyed. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as you pulled your phone from your pocket.

She watched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as your fingers moved across the screen. You sent a quick text before sliding the phone back into your pocket, your smirk deepening as you took a seat on the couch in front of her.

You leaned back, your posture casual, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “Don’t move,” you said simply, your voice carrying an edge of command that made her heart skip a beat.

Eunha nodded, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she knelt there, her body tense under your unyielding stare. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she fought to keep still. She wanted to ask what you had done, what would come next, but the intensity in your gaze kept her silent.

Minutes later, a knock echoed through the apartment, and her stomach twisted with nerves. Her eyes darted toward the door, but she didn’t dare move. She could hear your footsteps as you stood and made your way to the door, opening it with ease.

“Hey,” came Umji’s voice, her tone curious. “You texted me to come over? What’s going on?”

“Come in,” you said smoothly, stepping aside to let her enter. Eunha’s breath hitched as she heard the door close, her body frozen in place. Umji’s eyes landed on her almost immediately, confusion flickering across her face as she took in the scene.

“What is this?” Umji asked, her voice filled with disbelief as she glanced between you and Eunha.

You moved to stand behind Eunha, your hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “She wanted to prove something,” you said casually, your tone laced with amusement. “So I thought you might want to see.”

Eunha’s cheeks burned under Umji’s gaze, her body trembling with a mix of humiliation and anticipation. She felt your fingers trail down her arm, your touch both grounding and electrifying as you leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“Don’t make me wait,” you said softly, the words sending a shiver through her. “Start.”

Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, her movements slow and hesitant as she began to undress. Piece by piece, her clothing fell away, leaving her bare and exposed under the sharp contrast of your commanding presence and Umji’s incredulous stare.

“What the hell is going on?” Umji demanded, her voice rising slightly, but she didn’t look away.

Eunha’s breath came in shallow gasps as you guided her closer to the couch, your hand tangling in her hair as you brought her face to your length. “Just watch,” you said simply, your voice calm yet commanding.

Eunha’s lips brushed against you, her movements tentative at first as she began to please you, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Her warm breath ghosted over your length as her tongue flicked out, testing and teasing before she grew bolder. Slowly, she wrapped her lips around you, her head lowering as she took you into her mouth. Her hands gripped your thighs for balance, her touch light but steady as she worked to find her rhythm.

Her efforts were cautious but deliberate, each stroke of her tongue a mix of careful exploration and mounting determination. The sound of her soft, wet movements filled the room, a symphony of submission that drew your attention back to her. Occasionally, you reached down, your hand tangling in her hair to guide her movements, pushing her head down further. Each time, she responded with a muffled gasp, her body tensing momentarily before she adjusted, taking you deeper.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, your praise making her cheeks burn brighter. The words sent a surge of motivation through her, and she worked harder, her lips gliding smoothly along your length, her tongue swirling expertly around you.

For Eunha, this was the biggest test. Every motion, every flick of her tongue was charged with the weight of proving herself. She knew this was more than just an act of submission—it was a declaration of her place, her claim on you. A small, unexpected part of her stirred with arousal at the thought of Umji watching. Showing her friend who was truly yours, who had earned this, awakened a pride she didn’t know she possessed. It was intoxicating, this mixture of vulnerability and power, and it drove her further.

You leaned back against the couch, letting her set the pace for a moment before gripping the back of her head firmly and pressing her down. Her eyes widened as she took you deeper, her throat constricting slightly as she adjusted to your command. She let out a muffled sound, a mix of effort and surrender, before pulling back just enough to catch her breath. You allowed her a brief reprieve before guiding her again, her lips tightening around you as she resumed her work with even greater intensity.

Across the room, Umji stood frozen, her arms crossed tightly as she watched the scene unfold. Her gaze remained locked on Eunha, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. There was curiosity too, evident in the way her lips parted slightly as though to speak, only to remain silent. The sight of Eunha—once brimming with disdain for you—now fully submitting to your control was nothing short of a revelation.

“You’re really putting on a show, aren’t you?” you remarked, your voice dripping with amusement as your hand rested lightly on the back of Eunha’s head. “Keep going. Show her why you’re the only one.”

Eunha’s eyes flickered upward, meeting yours for the briefest moment before closing again. She redoubled her efforts, her movements growing faster, more fluid as her arousal fueled her determination. The wet sounds of her work filled the room, punctuated by her soft hums and the occasional gasp when you pushed her deeper.

Your breathing quickened as she found her rhythm, her technique honed with every passing second. Her lips tightened around you, her tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside as she bobbed her head. You groaned softly, the sound spurring her on as she worked to bring you closer to the edge.

When your climax hit, it was with a sharp exhale and a tightening of your grip on her hair. You pressed her down, holding her in place as you released, feeling her throat constrict as she swallowed without hesitation. Her cheeks hollowed as she took everything you gave, her obedience absolute.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you leaned forward slightly, your hand loosening in her hair. “Tilt your head back,” you commanded, your tone low and firm. Eunha obeyed, tilting her head until her face was angled perfectly toward you. “Open,” you added, and her lips parted slowly, her breath coming in soft pants as you inspected her.

Your release pooled at the back of her throat, glistening under the dim light. The sight sent a surge of satisfaction through you, and you allowed yourself a moment to admire her submission before leaning forward slightly.

“Hold it,” you murmured. With one hand steadying her chin, you spat lightly into her mouth, the act deliberate and possessive—a seal of her surrender. “Now swallow.”

Eunha’s throat bobbed as she complied, her lips closing around the mix of sensations with no hesitation. Her eyes flickered upward, meeting yours briefly before darting away, her cheeks flushed with a mix of humiliation and pride.

“Good girl,” you said, your voice tinged with satisfaction as you wiped a thumb across her chin, catching a stray drop before it fell. You pulled her back slightly, your member still glistening as you began to tap it lightly against her lips, the soft, wet sounds drawing a faint blush to her already heated skin.

Your hand shifted to her cheek, guiding her head as you tapped her face twice, the subtle smack sending a shiver through her. The sound was muted yet deliberate, a reminder of her place and the power you held over her. Her lips parted instinctively, and you pressed the tip of your length against her once more, smirking as her breath hitched.

As you pulled back, your gaze flickered to Umji, who had remained rooted in place, her arms crossed tightly as she watched the entire scene unfold. Her expression was a mix of shock and disbelief, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, though no words came.

“I think we’re done here,” you said, your tone casual as though nothing unusual had just occurred. You gestured lazily toward the door, your attention still focused on Eunha’s flushed face. “We can’t meet up anymore.”

“What?” Umji managed, her voice rising slightly with disbelief.

You shrugged, the smirk on your lips unfaltering. “You see how it is. Eunha’s the one who belongs here now.”

Umji blinked, her gaze flickering between you and Eunha, still kneeling at your feet. Eunha’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, her hair disheveled and her cheeks still stained red from exertion and submission. Yet her eyes remained fixed on you, a silent devotion radiating from her as she knelt motionless, her body awaiting your next command.

Umji shifted on her feet, crossing her arms tighter as she glanced down at Eunha. “Eunha,” she said, her tone softer now, tinged with disbelief, “are you really okay with this? With him?”

Eunha didn’t respond. She didn’t move. Her gaze remained unwaveringly on you, as though Umji wasn’t even in the room. The lack of acknowledgement was as loud as any reply, leaving Umji stunned into silence.

“Well,” Umji said after a moment, her voice quieter. “I guess… I guess that’s that.” She hesitated, her gaze lingering on Eunha one last time before she turned toward the door. “Goodbye.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment fell into silence. You exhaled softly, leaning back against the couch as your hand slid through Eunha’s hair, the gentle motion drawing her gaze upward to meet yours.

“You’ve earned it,” you murmured, your voice low and approving. “You’re mine.”

Eunha’s lips parted slightly as a faint blush spread across her cheeks, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. Slowly, she moved forward, her knees brushing against the carpet as she climbed into your lap, her arms wrapping around your neck with surprising tenderness. Her lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss, her body melting against yours as if she belonged there—because she did.

Her breath was warm against your skin as she nestled against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. The tension from moments before dissolved into something quieter, softer, as she clung to you. Her fingers traced absent patterns along your collarbone, her voice a soft whisper in the stillness.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her words carrying a weight that hinted at something deeper—a surrender not just of her body, but of her trust, her heart, and her place by your side.

You rested a hand on her back, the other threading lazily through her hair as you held her close. The silence between you wasn’t empty; it was full of an unspoken understanding, a bond forged through everything you had shared. At that moment, there was no doubt. Eunha was yours, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[slvttyplum]

cheap apartments meant cheap behavior; the upstairs neighbors were like dogs in heat, fucking every chance they got; you couldn't even enjoy a cup of wine without hearing moaning; it was infuriating.

aki wasn't usually home to catch them fucking, so any complaining you did to him wasn't really going through to him until the both of you were laying in bed endlessly scrolling on your devices.

you thought to yourself that finally they weren't fucking, thanking the highest god, until you heard distance moaning turn ear shot, you and aki looking at each other, his eyes scanning the expression on your face, trying not to laugh.

not knowing the joke he was about to say would turn into the most sex he's had in years.

"wanna fuck louder to see if they'll stop?" laughing to himself until he sees your face light up; that was the best idea he's had since being with him.

the both of you wasting no time to fuck. from missionary to doggy to a very sloppy mating press, the positions were endless, and you were here for it. the moans that you were once exaggerating now turn real the longer aki fucks you.

his eyes on yours as he's deep inside of you, his soft lips kissing all over your face, never failing to be romantic in a time like this but still making sure to push every inch inside of you.

it wasn't until it hit 2 a.m. that you realized that the upstairs neighbors sex party stopped, leaving you embarassing and flustered. from that day on, both you and aki and the upstairs neighbors were petty fucked.

fucking so loudly, wondering when it was going to stop. knowing a note from the beginning would have sufficed, but this was better and more fun.

[lowkeyren]

MANNN neuron activation fic wtf this was bodacious 🤑🤑‼️

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

throughout the whole fic, ratio does acknowledge reader's extraordinary talent.

admiration and frustration, with hints of jealousy, idealism, and a deep desire for reader to live up to their potential —or at least, the potential he believes they should fulfill.

“What else are fools good for?” He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

exactly, "teaching". GS hoards knowledge, they're selfish, but ratio is not. and that's precisely why he doesn’t belong in the GS.

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves. In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.” You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.” And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.  Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

this part where dr. ratio asks reader why they left the GS is so impactful because it gets right to the heart of the GS’s biggest flaw. it says a lot abt him n his philosophy of spreading knowledge, which completely clashes with GS's obsession with keeping it all to themselves.

and the way reader turns it into a proof of his integrity and not a weakness, is so compelling.

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio. 

for ratio, “mediocre” might signify being flawed, human, and perhaps now, free from the impossible standards he’s been judged by.

anyhow, reader is basically telling him: "you see yourself as mediocre, and maybe you are, in the sense that we all are. but that’s exactly why you matter. your humanity and your willingness to acknowledge imperfection —is what makes you extraordinary in a way the genius society can never be."

₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS

Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.

OR

Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.

wc - 3.4k

A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.

Veritas Ratio was a Needle. 

At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds. 

His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way. 

So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit. 

Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does. 

And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature. 

“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”

- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius

A fool. 

Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office. 

That is what you were. That is your nature. 

A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?” 

Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past. 

It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy. 

But could you do such a thing?

You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity. 

He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act. 

He shouldn’t care. 

He doesn’t care. 

He’s over that. 

Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more. 

But who might this fool be? 

Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns. 

Yet, there’s nothing. 

There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.” 

“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”

- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius

Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. Students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near. 

“Dr. Ratio.”

It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.  

He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons. 

He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever. 

He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side. 

“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.  

Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him. 

But then he takes his first look at you. 

Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the sight of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you. 

“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you. 

“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton. 

Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions. 

You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.” 

He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut. 

“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another. 

“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”

“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs.  His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind. 

“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought. 

A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh.  An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that. 

He picks up the book.  

He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly. 

“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”

He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him. 

“Which is your favorite?”

Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you. 

Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot. 

“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away. 

His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back. 

“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”

- Intelligentsia Guild 

He ignores you. 

That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him. 

So he does just that. 

He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more. 

So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them. 

Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.  

Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.  

He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him. 

As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.  

You made sure not to dirty them. 

“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.” 

- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings” 

“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor. 

You smile at him—book held in hand. 

He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something. 

But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page. 

“You read about me?”

Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly. 

“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.” 

He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “You’re quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.” 

His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach. 

“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?” 

He sits there in silence looking at you. 

“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.” 

He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’re a fool. Through and through.”

“Is that so?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“Do elaborate, Doctor.” 

 He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.” 

“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours. 

“You’re an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.” 

“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him. 

“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.” 

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you. 

“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“

“Leave the genius Society,” you finish. 

Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to. 

“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”

He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult. 

You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’ 

“Barely?” You ask. 

“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk. 

You lean over it, your spread out hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”

Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains. 

You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.” 

A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind. 

He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis. 

“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.” 

“But not from me?” 

Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself. 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” 

He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present. 

“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens. 

He stays silent. 

“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which  is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity. 

If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even. 

Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”

“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.

“What else are fools good for?”

He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns. 

He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment, there was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive. 

“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?” 

What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively. 

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”

You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”

And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain. 

Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

He’s in silence. 

He says nothing because he can’t say something. 

You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him. 

He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly. 

Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your expression is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”

You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness. 

His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…

You are none of what he had made you out to be…

Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius. 

But a kind soul. 

He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared. 

His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book that his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap. 

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio. 

Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap. 

Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.   

One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come. 

“THEIR silence was deafening.”

- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank

Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle. 

But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin. 

ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3

[levisjinchuriki]

acts of service - toji fushiguro

summary - you love toji and you'd never let him feel like a burden

warning - angst, mention of an argument, going to bed angry, acts of service, husband toji, fluff at the end, soft!toji

the bedroom door slams behind you as your heart is pounds. your jaw hurts from biting back words you’ll regret. you and toji had your third argument already this week. his muffled voice tells you he’s still frustrated as he talks to you through the door, but you don’t respond. you’re too angry.

his voice eventually fades, and the sound of his retreating footsteps tells you he’s given up. you curl under the covers, still fuming, until the warmth of the bed lulls you into a restless sleep.

—

hours later, you wake up with a dry throat and your chest still tight from the argument. slipping out of bed, you quietly make your way to the kitchen. the first thing you notice is toji’s lunch bag on the counter, already zipped shut. you always pack his lunches—an unspoken routine between you two, one small way you show your love.

after unzipping the bag, your heart sinks– inside are a few hastily thrown snacks: a bag of chips, a granola bar, an apple. no sandwich, no leftovers, no real meal to sustain him through his grueling workday. it’s clear he didn’t expect you to pack his lunch tonight. 

he didn’t want to burden you.

your chest tightens as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. the anger is still there, but it can’t overpower the ache in your heart. toji might be stubborn, even infuriating, but you love him. even now, after everything.

you grab his lunch bag, emptying out the snacks with trembling hands. tonight’s leftovers sit untouched in the fridge. you plate the meal carefully, transferring it into containers and neatly tucking it into his lunch bag. you even add a few extra touches: a little pack of soy sauce, the cookies you baked recently, and some fruit.

finally, you grab a scrap of paper and a pen. for a moment, you hesitate, unsure what to write. then the words spill out, simple and raw:

i’m still mad at you. but i love you more than anything. please eat well today. 

you fold the note and tuck it into the lunch bag before zipping it shut again. a deep sigh escapes your lips as you set it back on the counter, right where he’ll see it in the morning.

the anger isn’t gone, but neither is the love. you head back to bed, the heaviness in your chest lightened just a little. you hope you can both start again tomorrow.

—

in the early hours of the morning, toji stands at the bedroom door, his lunch bag clutched in one hand. he’s staring at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world, a faint crease between his brows. the way his jaw tightens and his shoulders drop says more than words ever could.

he doesn’t deserve you, not after last night. that’s the thought running through his head as he quietly enters the room and sets the bag quietly on the dresser. he only meant to come in to get his work clothes. when his eyes land on you, curled up in bed, your face soft and peaceful in sleep, he knows he can’t leave just yet.

before he can stop himself, he’s moving toward you. his weight dips the mattress as he climbs in behind you, slow and deliberate, his body fitting against yours like it was made to. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, his warmth seeping into you.

you stir slightly, murmuring incoherently, but you don’t wake. toji presses his face into your hair, breathing you in. his lips lightly brush the back of your neck.

“i’m sorry” he whispers, his voice low and rough, almost inaudible. “for last night. for everything”.

his hand slides up to rest on your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. he’s not expecting forgiveness—not yet—but he needs you to feel this, even in your sleep.

he kisses the curve of your shoulder, then the space just behind your ear. each kiss is soft, tender, filled with everything he struggles to say out loud. “i don’t deserve you” he murmurs against your skin, his voice breaking slightly. “but i’m so damn lucky to have you anyway”.

you shift again, a small sigh escaping your lips as you unconsciously press closer to him. toji tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. the world outside is waiting for him, but for now, all he cares about is this—this quiet moment with you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo, the rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed.

“i love you” he says softly, his words barely a whisper, meant more for himself than for you. “even when i mess up. always”.

he stays there, holding you, until the weight in his chest feels a little lighter and the clock tells him he can’t stay any longer. but as he finally pulls away, tucking the blanket carefully around you, he swears to himself that he’ll make things right. you deserve nothing less.

--

a/n: this was inspired by a tiktok i saw. i hope you guys enjoyed. thank you for all the love recently!! <3

[murdrdocs]

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

jack decides to take things slow. they're both switches; oral (f receiving); hair pulling; cowgirl MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

you and jack are versatile.

there are the times where you're both overcome with the need to constantly have your hands on the other, curious fingertips pressing into muscle and reaching under clothing, body heat searching for mutual warmth through layers of clothing. desperate make outs followed by even more desperate grinding.

but then there is the slower intimacy. the kind that comes about at the end of the day when you're both wound down, sunken into the bed with some show playing on the TV across from you.

these times are so slow, agonizing, aching deep in your chest and pressing on your nerves, attempting to trigger them. if you were receiving even just a bit less, maybe you'd really be pissed. but jack has been keeping you stimulated enough.

even though he's playing with his food.

pinching the hem of your tee shirt between his teeth, lifting it up as he starts his slow climb, only to let it fall right beneath your tits. pressing his large hand on your stomach, but not pressing down. letting a big hand just sit there uselessly, fingers spread wide, reaching across your belly. warmth against warmth, adding kindling to an unpredictable fire. it burns, then simmers, then burns higher than it did before.

you've done the same to him before. that's why you're compliant, letting him take his time and explore a body he already knows well. maybe sex therapists would agree that this was a good way to keep interest in the bedroom, adding something new that won't break up the dynamics already created. you don't think that is jack's intention. really, you think he's just having fun.

he kisses below your navel then starts a journey up. you don't get your hopes up. you don't allow yourself to think that this will finally be the time when he'll reach an actual destination and not some freckle or scar marked in your skin.

but he does.

he pushes your shirt the rest of the way up and then wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he sucks and flicks his tongue over the bud, looking up at you, gauging your reaction. it might be minimal, but he knows you well enough to see the glint of satisfaction in your eyes.

you can see and feel him smile around your skin. his hand comes up and gives attention to the other half of you, pinching and tweaking your nipple between bouts of gentle groping. it's such minimal attention, but any attention at all right now is dizzying for you. paired with the sheer amount of devotion he's putting into each press of his mouth and hand, you might lose it before he even gets your panties off of you.

although not completely unappealing, the thought makes you groan. "jack," you whine, even though you initially intended for the syllables to come out more frustrated than wailing.

the laugh he lets out infuriates you. but the string of spit that connects his mouth to your breast when he pulls back excites you.

"i'm getting there," he says, his words reeking of cockiness with an undertone of exasperation, like he's the one being tortured.

he knows what he's doing to you, it would be impossible for him not to, but the fact that he's completely reveling in having the upper hand for once makes you want to take it away from him.

you consider it for a second—twisting your hand into his hair, pushing his head down to your cunt, knowing his instincts will take over and he'll act on impulse. it would be satisfactory, but it wouldn't be fulfilling.

you decide to be good.

still, you do make a half-hearted attempt to push his head down, your fingers stuck in slightly-greasy strands without much commitment behind the grip.

he glares up at you from where his chin rests on the center of your abdomen, his stare challenging, as if he's daring you to continue. you do, for just a split second, but his stern "uh-uh" is all it took for you to change the intention of your grip, now holding onto his hair to anchor yourself instead of encourage him towards what you want most.

but when he finally does make his way down there, he's understanding. he knows you can't help it when your legs lift and your knees draw together. he knows it's your instinct to scratch his scalp and pull at the roots of his hair. with his genes, this would be the only way he could go bald, a product of your pleasure-ridden reactions. he doesn't mind. you think he actually contently whimpers when he comes up for air once.

he's looking up at you, his jaw moving as he works you, his nostrils flaring with controlled breaths. you can see the gears turning in his head as you notify him of your orgasm. you know what he's thinking, it's obvious when he pulls back and licks his lips, replacing one natural shine with the other. but you shake your head, and you beg, and then he's making you cum on his tongue.

and to thank him, you climb onto his lap afterwards, sinking yourself onto his cock and riding him with your tits in his face. but you do have to get back at him for taking so long to give you what you want, so you keep his hands above his head, glued to the mattress with your hands as the adhesive.

[albertstrustie]

Another Simon/Ghost fanfic piece. Hope you like it. A bit of a long read.

—

Your heels clacked against the cement stairs of the porch, the sound bouncing off into the clear night. You didn’t even wait for the Escalade to stop completely before flinging the door open and storming out. Behind you, Simon didn’t bother turning off the headlights or rolling up the windows—he threw the car into park and dashed after you. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. If you did, who knows what else you’d do.

His footsteps pounded against the ground behind you, matching his labored breathing as you fumbled with the keys at the front door. Your hands trembled—not just with anger but fear. You’d never seen Simon this furious. The sharp scrape of metal finally met the lock, and you twisted it just as his heavy steps reached the porch.

You shoved the door open and bolted inside, slamming it behind you. The solid thud should’ve been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. His broad arm shot through the gap, wedging the door open with infuriating ease. The force jarred you, but you didn’t look back. You were already sprinting up the stairs, your heart racing faster than your feet as his relentless pursuit followed.

The bedroom door slammed shut an instant before his footsteps thundered up the staircase. It burst open just as violently, the wood splintering against the wall. You tried not to flinch. You stayed rooted in front of the dressing table, staring into the mirror as your chest heaved.

There he was, reflected back at you—Ghost. Sweaty, flushed, chest heaving with frustration. The green irises you knew so well were nearly black, like a storm rolling over an open field, swallowing every trace of light. He’d never been in your room before. The sight of him here, invading your most intimate space, felt like a violation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to leave. Not now when he looked like he was about to rip you to shreds.

He rounded the bed in three swift strides, gripping your arm and yanking you around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

You shoved at his face, a desperate, reckless attempt to create space between you. It was bold—perhaps foolish—but anything less would have been futile against his unyielding strength. His grip didn’t waver, though a low, menacing growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like a warning.

For a tense, electric moment, you thought he wouldn’t let go, that his hold on you would tighten until you broke. But then, with a sharp exhale, his grip loosened, and his hands fell to his sides. He took a step back, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he dragged air into his lungs. The distance between you should have felt like a victory, but all you felt was an aching void.

The fight drained from you, leaving behind only exhaustion. Nothing about tonight made sense—not the mission, not Simon, and definitely not the decision you’d made.

That decision being the kiss.

The memory burned hot, searing through you like a brand. Kissing your fake bodyguard in the middle of an undercover operation wasn’t just careless; it was insane. But watching that spoiled socialite touch him—leaning in too close, her ruby, plump lips brushing his ear as she whispered—had been unbearable. And the way Simon smiled back at her, charming and unreadable, made you snap.

Simon? Smiling? Absolutely not.

You didn’t care if it was part of the mission.

You didn’t care that you’d made a scene. All you cared about was erasing that smile and replacing it with something real. And in the moment, the only thing you could think to do was grab his face and kiss him like your life depended on it.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, he kissed you back. But then, it came to an end, just as quickly as it began. So you ran towards the exit, shaken up and utterly mortified.

Now, in the suffocating silence of your bedroom, there was no escape and Simon was a storm barely contained, his body vibrating with restrained anger. But you knew, he wanted that kiss just as much as you did; you could see it right now, the way his chest heaved and his fists clenched at his sides as if to restrain himself from touching you.

His whole body was taut, strung tight like a bow. And the adrenaline coursing through you, made you feel like a live wire, sparking and crackling with need. “Answer me!” he bellowed, his voice thunderous. “Why in the fuck would you—”

Something knocked the sense put of you again and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again, pouring every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing into it. There was no hesitation this time. Simon’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claimed yours, hard and hungry.

His lips were hot, insistent, and demanding, a perfect mirror of the fire burning in your chest. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, and you let him, your hands tangling in his hair as you backed toward the bed. When your knees hit the edge, you fell, but Simon caught himself, landing on his palms above you.

He hovered for a moment, staring down at you, his pupils blown wide and his breath ragged. You thought he might stop—that the realization of what was happening would bring him back to his senses. But then his mouth was on yours again, urgent and consuming, and every coherent thought fled.

You arched into him, your dress riding up your thighs as his weight pressed you into the mattress. His hands roamed over your body, rough and searching, tracing every curve like he was committing you to memory. When his hips ground against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing into your core, you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Simon,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your fingers threading through his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

It was too much, but not nearly enough.

Your legs wrapped around his hips tighter, locking him in place, and your arms clutched him even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from unraveling. You didn’t care about the way his heavy weight pressed you into the mattress, the way his fingers gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise. You didn’t care about the small gasps escaping your lips every time he ground against you, or the burning heat building between your bodies.

You couldn’t care—not when he felt like this.

One of his hands slid from your hip to your chest, his palm sweeping over the curve of your breast. He cupped it through your dress, his thumb brushing over the peak before squeezing. A deep groan tore from his throat as he pulled back, staring at you with an expression that bordered on disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom that this moment was real.

Then, with a feral growl, he grabbed the front of your dress and ripped it open. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, leaving you breathless and exposed, your lace bra bared to him. Maybe another time you would’ve teased that he could’ve simply pulled down the absurdly expensive dress, but now was definitely not the time.

The sharp sound of the fabric tearing made your heart stutter, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But it wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t regret. It was everything—every emotion you couldn’t name threatening to spill over. Maybe you too couldn’t believe this was happening.

You barely noticed his fingers deftly working at the clasp of your bra, too caught in the way he looked at you, like a starving man about to devour his first ever meal. By the time you realized it, the bra was already unhooked, sliding from your body before being tossed carelessly to the floor.

His mouth found your nipple, sucking hard as his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak. The sharp jolt of pleasure tore through you, and you cried out, your back arching as heat coursed through your veins.

It felt like you were being touched for the first time, as if virginity had been restored and this was your initiation. Every nerve in your body was alive, your skin burning beneath his touch. His tongue scorched, his fingers left electric trails wherever they wandered. You were ablaze, consumed entirely by him.

He shifted to your other breast, dragging his tongue in a slow, teasing stripe along the underside before sucking the other nipple into his mouth. His hands gripped your waist with bruising intensity, anchoring you in place as his hips ground against yours. Words dissolved on your tongue, replaced by gasps and moans that spilled from your lips, raw and unrestrained.

For once, there was no mask, no performance—only you, stripped bare in every sense of the word. It had never been like this before, it’s never been this overwhelming. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it was his, and in this moment, the world narrowed down to Simon.

One hand slid lower, cupping your pussy, a groan rumbling from his chest. "You're so fucking wet," he muttered against your breast, his voice rough and gravelly.

His fingers pressed against your soaked panties, the damp fabric only amplifying the friction as he rubbed slow circles over your throbbing core. The sensation made you want to cry out and were about to ground yourself against him—but he didn’t give you the chance.

With a sharp pull, he tore away the rest of your ruined fabric of your dress, stripping the first barrier from your skin. The shredded remnants joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

His eyes dropped to your panties, a pathetic scrap of lace that barely concealed anything. His breathing stumbled as he grabbed them and ripped them clean off with a swift, brutal tug. The motion lifted your hips off the bed before your back fell against the mattress once more, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

You should have felt exposed, vulnerable—but instead, you were nothing but raw, aching need. Seeing his eyes darken as he took in every inch of you, his gaze hungry and possessive, only made you feel more alive. You couldn’t be happier to be rid of those scraps of fabric, nude and aching beneath him, ready for whatever came next.

A shiver ran down your spine, a chill spreading over your overheated skin as his calloused hands roamed over your bare ass and thighs. He was so strong, his hands so sure and confident. You wondered if this was simply who he was—if he’s always been this commanding, this powerful—or if it was just you, the way your body reacted to him, helpless against the pull.

A small part of you tried to rationalize it, telling yourself it was proximity, nothing more. Working with him, being forced into close contact and moments of manufactured intimacy for the sake of the mission—surely that was why you felt this way. Why your pulse raced at his touch.

But deep down, you knew that was a lie.

This wasn’t just circumstance. From the very first day, when he’d drawled, “Simon Riley” in that thick Mancunian accent, your thighs had clenched, and a heat you couldn’t ignore had bloomed inside you. You’d wondered then—against all reason—what he looked like naked, what it would feel like to have those strong, capable hands on your body.

And now you knew.

Your head was a muddle of lust and want and for a brief moment, a flicker of shame tried to surface. Simon had never seen you like this; he hadn’t even seen you in a bikini—but it vanished the second his mouth descended on you. His tongue slid through your folds, burying itself in your heat, and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

Nothing else mattered. Not the mission, not your pride, not the fact that this was Simon. All that existed was the relentless pleasure, the way his tongue moved against you, the way he made you burn hotter and brighter than you ever thought possible.

You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, your hands gripping his hair and shoulders as if they were the only things tethering you to reality. His mouth worked relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge. When he groaned against your clit, the vibrations shot through your body, making you writhe beneath him.

This wasn’t his first time doing this—you weren’t naive enough to think otherwise—but the thought barely registered amidst the tidal wave of pleasure crashing through you. Any pang of jealousy or anger was drowned out by the sobs of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

His tongue flicked your clit with quick, precise strokes, each one sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your core. Your body bowed, and you gasped as he slid a finger into your tight heat, the sudden fill making your walls flutter around him.

He moved with purpose, his finger curling to find that spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue never faltered, his rhythm relentless as he coaxed you higher.

When he added another finger, the stretch was overwhelming, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough all at once. You bucked against him, desperate to take him deeper, to feel more, but he growled—a low warning that sent a thrill through you. His free hand stayed flat against your abdomen, holding you firmly in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike. It ripped through you, white-hot and paralysing, leaving your body trembling and your pussy clenching around his fingers. Your cries filled the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. Before you could even catch your breath, he had you on all fours, his strong hand wrapping around your hair as he positioned himself behind you.

You felt him line up, the thick head of his cock brushing against your dripping, throbbing cunt. You were desperate for him, aching to feel him stretch you, fill you, bury himself so deeply inside you that there would be no space left between you.

His grip on your untamed curls tightened, his breathing heavy and uneven as he held himself steady. You braced yourself for that blinding pain right before the pleasure you knew only him could probably give you.

But then his grip on you loosened, and his fingers came around to brush against your cheek in the softest, most unexpected caress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt through you, stealing your breath and making your heart clench.

“I... don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice rough but laced with a vulnerability that cut through the haze of desire. It was as though the shame you tried so hard to bury was something he could see, something he couldn’t ignore.

You tipped your forehead into your forearms, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his words and the unspoken emotions behind them. Your heart swelled, the feeling both exhilarating and terrifying, but the ache inside you demanded more.

“Please!” you choked out, slamming your palm onto the mattress in desperation. “Please, Simon. Fuck me. I need you!” Your shoulders shook with sobs, your voice thick with a pathetic need you could no longer hide.

A beat passed—a moment stretched taut with anticipation—and then he drove into you. One powerful thrust and his cock stretched you, filled you so perfectly, so completely, that the breath was punched from your lungs and you jolted forward, burying your face in the pillows.

Your body welcomed him eagerly, your walls clamped around his thick length as they adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. The scream that tore from your throat was muffled by the fluff of the pillows, but it couldn’t drown out his groan as you pushed back and buried him to the hilt.

The pressure was maddening, the fullness dizzying. Rocking back against him, you met his thrusts, your movements frantic and unrestrained. His fingers dug into your hips with bruising force, holding you steady as he matched your pace.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the air alongside the creak and squeak of the bed frame straining beneath you. His chest brushed against your back as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice dark and laced with hunger. “Me, fucking you like this?”

Words failed you, dissolving into desperate, incoherent whimpers as his pace increased and his palms kneaded your breasts. His cock pistoned in and out of you, the friction stoking the fire inside you until it consumed everything else. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, driving you mad with the sheer intensity of it all.

Like everything between you two, this felt like a challenge—a battle of wills wrapped in pleasure. You knew it was his competitive streak, the need to make you come faster, harder than before. There was no question he would win, but some part of you still wanted to hold out, to last just a little longer than the first shattering orgasm he pulled from you.

But Simon didn’t make it easy.

He fucked you with a savage, unrelenting intensity, his cock hitting every spongy spot inside you. His hips slammed against your ass, his hands gripping you so firmly it felt like his touch had become a part of you, like there was no line where his skin ended and yours began.

You were a mess—sweaty, writhing, utterly undone by his body. Your walls clenched, squeezing him so tight it bordered on painful. But the sting only added to the pleasure, making you feel like you were coming apart at the seams.

You tried to push back against the inevitable, to delay the explosion building inside you, but it was useless. He was everywhere—in you, around you, overwhelming you with his presence until there was no escape. The pressure inside you reached a breaking point, unbearable yet exquisite, until it finally snapped.

The tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in its force, washing away every shred of control. You cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea, a desperate, breathless surrender.

In a second, Simon reduced you to nothing more than trembling limbs and shaky breaths, a heap of bone and flesh barely clinging to coherence. If his arm hadn’t wrapped securely around your middle, you would have collapsed into the sheets, maybe even rolled off the bed entirely.

His hold steadied you, grounding you as he continued to thrust into your overstimulated, quivering cunt. Your nails clawed at the sheets beneath you, twisting the fabric in your grip as the waves of ecstasy refused to ebb.

“There you go, baby. That’s it,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with satisfaction.

Oh, how you wish you could say something snarky right now! But you couldn’t. Not when your legs shook uncontrollably, your heart raced like it might burst, and your lungs burned for air.

All you could focus on was him—the man who had infuriated and fascinated you in equal measure. The man you’d secretly wanted all along, even when you were trading sharp insults and cold glares. Every mission, every conversation, every moment of tension between you had led to this.

To this blinding flash of euphoria that obliterated your vision, to this moment where your mind went completely blank. For a brief, exquisite second, it felt like you’d died and been reborn, baptized in the overwhelming ecstasy that coursed through your veins.

As your vision returned and the last waves of pleasure ebbed, Simon pulled out, leaving you empty and aching. The absence was startling, a void you felt deep in your core. His hands gripped your hips gently, flipping you onto your back as if you weighed nothing.

Before you could figure out what was happening, his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a wild, ferocious passion, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. His hands interlocked with yours above your head and his cock found its home again, sliding into your slick heat as if he’d been moulded just for you.

And if you were being honest with yourself, he probably was made for you.

Because up until now, sex was nothing but something transactional, a means to an end. It had never felt like this. Like the whole world was spinning out of control, and the only thing keeping you from falling apart was his touch, his lips, his body. Like you would die if he stopped kissing you, if his breath stopped caressing your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushed into you again. His thrusts were slower this time, deep and measured, as if he was savouring every second. His hands came down to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your damp cheeks softly, revealing a side of Simon you never imagined you’d witness.

But here he was. Here you two were. Naked, unguarded, lost in the depths of something far more dangerous than lust. And you wanted it. You needed it, damn it.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged pants. The space between you all but vanished, and you stared into his eyes, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. His gaze pinned you in place—intense as ever, but now tinged with a tenderness that shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been clinging to.

The dam broke, and the tears fell freely.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a feather-light kiss that travelled all across your face. The gesture was so gentle, so intentional, it nearly undid you all over again.

His hips faltered, his rhythm stumbling, and then he was gathering you into his arms. He pressed himself tightly against you, his weight grounding you in a way that felt like safety and surrender all at once. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

You clung to him, your bodies entwined so completely that you wondered how you’d ever untangle yourself. Your fingers threaded through his damp tendrils as he began to let go. “Baby…” he grunted, his voice low and strained—a question for permission.

“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Do it. Please.”

A guttural groan rumbled through his chest, and his hips snapped into yours, his rhythm quickening with a newfound urgency. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries against his slick skin. He smelled of salt and sweat, musk and wind, a scent that reminded you of the ocean crashing against the shore.

Then, all at once, he shattered. His body stiffened, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled himself, marking you as his. Your name fell from his lips in a broken mantra, each syllable reverberating through your very soul. You realized, in that moment, how beautiful your name sounded when it came from him.

His weight collapsed onto you, his chest rising and falling against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His lips brushed the hollow of your throat in a lingering caress, and you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips to his damp forehead. He nuzzled into your neck, the scratch of his beard sending shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips.

A quiet contentment settled over you, the silence heavy with meaning. There was nothing to say, nothing to explain. You simply lay there, wrapped in each other, your bodies tangled like you belonged this way.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breaking the stillness.

He groaned, shifting the both of you under the sheets, his strength effortless as he moved. When he slipped out of you in the process, you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the warm, comforting weight of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and sincerity. “It was the best fuck-up you’ve ever done.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, muffled against his chest. He chuckled softly in return, the vibrations soothing in their intimacy. His hand traced lazy patterns down your spine, anchoring you to him.

“Together,” he murmured, his voice dipping as sleep began to claim him.

You wanted to ask what he meant, but before you could, he repeated it, this time more assured. “We’re together.”

And in those two words, you understood everything.

“Together,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as his warmth enveloped you.

Safe in his arms, you let sleep pull you under, carrying you into a dreamless, contented oblivion.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Rise August: Secrets

Story included under cut!!!

Draxum was in his apartment sorting through a box of old potions and scrolls and loose mystical items left over from when his lab was destroyed for the third time, during the Shredder's invasion. He'd been putting this off for far too long. Amidst the chaos of his collection, there were medical files on his past experiments, DNA samples of the turtles, a couple ancient relics he'd managed to keep ahold of during the whole 'banished from the Hidden City' fiasco, and... a doll. Small, scorched, threads and yarn coming loose from where time had worn them out. It was a small item, inconsequential upon first glance. But it was possibly the most precious possession Draxum owned, if only because it was the last reminder he had of a former life. The doll, stitched and crocheted with care, resembled a miniature turtle. Draxum pressed the doll close to his chest as he'd done countless times before, holding it by his heart and silently praying to any god that would listen to him. And he sat, hoping his prayer would be answered, and a single message could be relayed to the spirit of the one who'd made the doll for him all those years ago.

He was so sorry.

It was then that his phone began to buzz, bringing him back to the present. He tried ignoring it, but the infuriating noise continued.

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

He growled, admitting defeat in the battle of wills against the irritating little machine, and picked it up. Leonardo was calling. Had BEEN calling him repeatedly. Along with Michelangelo, who'd called a total of three times within the last minute and a half. Hmm, odd. Donatello had called once, too. What could they want? It wasn't a training evening, or one of those cumbersome 'family bonding nights'. But it must be important if they were willing to call SIX TIMES IN A ROW. He cautiously pressed the little green button.

"Baron Draxum speaking--"

"WERE YOU GOING TO TELL US THAT WE HAD SECRET SIBLINGS?! OR WERE WE JUST SUPPOSED TO LEARN THAT ON OUR OWN?!"

Draxum pulled his ear away, flinching at the noise. It was Leonardo, all right.

"What?" Draxum groaned, trying to combat the sudden deafness he just received in his left ear. "What is going on--"

"Dad just told us about our secret SISTER and secret BROTHER!" Leo yelled again. "Did you ever plan on bringing this up?! Where will the secrets END with our family?! Do you have ANYTHING TO SAY?!"

Draxum grumbled angrily.

"That conniving actor... I can't believe he..." How dare that former action star spill all his secrets without telling him he even KNEW those secrets! How did he find out?! "Put the rat on," he demanded. "I will discuss this breach of trust with him."

"I..." silence. "....I can't."

"Why not?" Draxum asked, noticing the sudden change in Leonardo's voice.

The mutant slider turtle took a good long while to answer. In the background, Draxum could make out the sounds of weeping and wailing. Michelangelo. He'd recognize the youngest's voice anywhere. Leo's breaths were shaky as he struggled to string together a sentence.

"...Draxum... Dad can't... he isn't...." a pause, a deep inhale. "He... he's dead," Leo whispered hoarsely. "He died half an hour ago."

Dead...?

Barry knew the rat was old and weak, and had been growing sick... but... And he'd told them. On his deathbed. He'd planned this, a dramatic reveal for the king of drama. One last spiteful incursion against the great Baron Draxum. He'd told the boys about their 'secret siblings'. How could he have known?? How did he ever find out? The how and why hardly mattered now. He'd told them. And... it was about time they knew.

"...I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Draxum stated before hanging up abruptly.

Baron Draxum spent the first five minutes just standing in the middle of the room. Thinking. Contemplating. This was going to be a very difficult conversation. For a multitude of reasons. Draxum spent the next five minutes gathering all the supplies he would need. Reports on the mutagen and ooze. Scans of the experiments. DNA samples, tests, any information on the two subjects he had left. Receipts of their existence. Proof.

The doll, the last remnant and possession of the most precious thing he'd ever lost.

And then Draxum spent the last five minutes rehearsing. Going over every little detail and thinking the history through. He could guess what they would say, what they'd ask, and how they'd react. There was no way he was ready for this.

His fifteen minutes were up. It was time to go.

Draxum stood stone still, arms full of documents, in the center of his apartment.

It was now twenty minutes. Draxum opened a magenta portal and stepped through.

The lair was darker than usual. And quiet. Usually there were string lights and neon signs illuminating the halls, but they'd been turned off. And there was always something playing in the background, a tune from the radio or a movie left on in the living room. But it was eerily silent, apart from the sound of people crying. Draxum followed the sounds of grief into the living room, Splinter's favourite space. It was dimly lit by candles, a scene of mourning like something from a film. Of course, that was how he'd want to go out. Dramatically.

The children were all surrounding his favourite armchair, Leonardo standing at a distance and tapping his foot impatiently as he stood guard over the room. Donatello was sitting in a corner, looking unsure of how to feel, or how to process what he was feeling. Michelangelo was sobbing in Raphael's lap, crying uncontrollably into his shoulder as the eldest rocked him back and forth, trying to comfort the youngest while also holding back his own tears in an attempt at false bravery. April O'Neil -- who was also here, among others -- had taken the initiative to drape a long white sheet over the body, out of respect.

Seeing this... seeing the outline of Splinter's body laying still... the scene became all too real all at once, and Draxum's planning and pre-prepared speeches were lost in the realization. His sons just lost the man they called 'father'. The person they loved most in life. And now, he was all they had left. And that terrified him.

"You're late," Leo growled, turning to look the sheep man in the eyes.

"Apologies," Draxum sighed. "I needed to prepare. Sit down, I'll try to explain it all."

Leo and April gathered the rest of the family into the kitchen, where Draxum began to pass out the papers and documentation.

"Okay, Draxum," Leo spat, sitting himself down at the table. "TALK. What did Dad mean by a secret sister and secret brother?"

Draxum inhaled deeply, readied himself, and began.

"You DO have a brother and sister. That is true."

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Mikey asked, voice wet and wobbly from crying. "Why didn't Splinter??"

"I can't say why the rat --" he paused, cleared his throat. They dead deserved more respect than that. "...Why Splinter didn't tell you beforehand. I didn't even know he knew. But I hadn't told you because I saw no reason to."

"No reason?!" Donatello gawked. "They're our secret family members!"

"Yeah, do you have ANY IDEA how many family members we have?!" Leo added. "Zero! And now we have two?! This is kind of a BIG DEAL, BARRY!"

"Technically, we always had two secret family members but --"

"Not the time for grammatical correction, Dee."

"Would you allow me to continue?" Draxum yelled over the argumentative boys.

The room fell silent.

"Thank you. The main reason I never told you was... because they are... dead."

Leo's hands, which had been folded together and holding his chin up, fell to his sides as his eyes widened.

"Dead? How?"

"It's a long story," Draxum began, taking one of the many sheets and passing it around the table. "When you were first mutated, I also mutated a fifth turtle, though she was contained in a separate tank. During the destruction of my lab, I managed to escape with her while your father escaped with you. Three years later, with my lab restored, I began my research again and decided to try mutating a sixth turtle."

"Our... brother?" Raph asked, pretending to read a sheet full of medical notes and toxicology readings he didn't understand at all.

"Yes," Draxum nodded. "Though, technically, he is your half-brother."

"How does that work?" Mikey asked.

"I didn't have any DNA remnants of Lou Jitsu left, so I had to find the next best warrior to use," Draxum explained, gesturing to himself. "So I used my own DNA for the recreated formula. I called the two turtles Venus De Milo and Machiavelli."

"But what happened to them?" Mikey asked nervously. "How did they..."

Draxum cleared his throat as he went over the old memories. Even after all these years, they still hurt.

"I was not in the good graces of the public. The Council of Heads disapproved of my illegal genetic experimentations, and as such my work was in danger. The two experiments were in danger. That was when Big Mama showed up."

"Of course she did!" Leo groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "That woman! Pizza supreme, I swear she preys on opportunity like... like a... like a creature that prowls or... something..."

"Do you mind if I go on?" Draxum growled. "As I was saying, she promised to help smooth things over with the council and the public eye if I let her take custody for one of the experiments."

"Why would she want that?" Donnie wondered as he looked over Venus' paperwork. "And why would you agree?

"She said that if she were to truly be in league with me, she'd need an equal share of the project. She argued that it would only solidify her standing with me and make us equal partners with equal footing. And an equal portion of responsibility and investment in the project. And I had no choice, I needed her sway with the community. She took Venus from me, and I never saw her again. Big Mama was only meant to keep her for three years, but when the time came she told me that Venus had died from complications due to the mutation."

"Was that true?" Raph asked.

"I don't know, I never found out. If it was false, Big Mama made her virtually invisible. I've no idea of what became of Venus. But after that, I became far more protective of Machiavelli. I trained him, schooled him, kept him safe from prying eyes. And as time went on, he became very important to me. I was invested in his wellbeing, and... and..."

Michelangelo perked up, seeing a familiar but rare side of Draxum show itself. A softened expression, a gentleness in his voice. A deep and harrowed regret.

"You... you loved him, didn't you?" the box shell turtle asked. "He became like a son to you, didn't he?"

Draxum nodded sadly.

"But I was a warmongering fool back then. Afraid and angry, I projected my frustrations out onto Machiavelli. I tried to mold him into a warrior, but he... he wasn't like that, he was kind and... you all would have liked him." Draxum smiled, turning to look at each of the boys. "He was creative, smart, loved playing games and making jokes... And despite my ignorance, he saw me as a father."

Leo glanced from a sheet containing science-y mumbo-jumbo back to the disgraced baron. He looked so old, so tired. In his hands, he clutched a secret and sacred doll. Leo's gaze rose from the hidden treasure back up to Draxum's face, which was clouded over with old grief.

"What happened to him, Barry?" Leo asked cautiously. "What happened to Machiavelli?"

Draxum squeezed the handmade doll. His brow furrowed, his jaw hardened. His voice was low as he forced the words out.

"...It was a few years ago. One night, we had an argument over training. I don't remember exactly what was said, only that we fought over his purpose. I was adamant that his destiny was to be a soldier, nothing more, and I said as much. I told him we'd discuss it further in the morning. But that night... the lab... there was an explosion, and... his bedroom was right beneath... he didn't make it out."

The room was silent. Draxum sat, twiddling his thumbs as he thought of his son's face. There were no pictures, no images, no drawings left to depict him. Only this doll, made in his image as a gift for his father. But he didn't need any reminders. He remembered him perfectly. He remembered it all.

"...How long ago was this?" Donatello asked.

"...Almost three years ago, by now," Draxum whispered.

"An explosion in your lab that occured over two years ago," Donnie repeated. "This... this wouldn't have happened to be during a stand-off between you and four mutant turtles, would it?"

Draxum stayed silent. He knew this was coming. Hence why he never brought it up. He felt every eye on him. He couldn't answer. Yet they needed one. He slowly nodded.

"...So it was... our fault?" Raph asked, voice low and hushed. "The lab explosion we caused... it was because of us he died?"

"No," Draxum assured them, finally looking up. "It was my fault. If I had not been so stubborn and had let go of my irrational hatred of the humans, none of that would have happened. I would never had created the oozesquitos, nor kidnapped the agent Mayhem, and none of the events that followed would have come about. It was not your fault. It was only mine."

Mikey stood up and rushed over to Draxum's side, wrapping his arms around him and crying into his robe.

"I'm sorry," Mikey whimpered. "I'm sorry that happened..."

"And I am sorry I did not tell you about your sister and half-brother sooner," Draxum sighed. "I wasn't sure how to bring it up. And... I was not ready to reopen old wounds."

"I guess it's okay," Leo grumbled, waving his hand at Draxum. "I'm glad you told us now, at least."

"It would have been cool to have more siblings, though," Raph smiled. "I wonder if I'd still be oldest..."

"According to these, 'Venus' was older than you," Donatello read aloud. "And Machiavelli was born three years after our mutation--"

"Wait, this means I have a younger brother?! I'm not the youngest??" Mikey exclaimed.

"You're still the youngest, Mikey," Donnie explained.

"Nuts."

"This might be a dumb question, but are you sure that they're dead?" Leo asked, scanning the sheets over again. "I mean, plot twists seem to be a running theme in our family. Could they still be alive?"

"It's possible that Venus might be alive," Draxum shrugged. "Big Mama is nothing if not a swindler and a liar."

"What about Machiavelli?" Mikey wondered. "Could he have made it out?"

"I don't see how," Draxum answered dejectedly. "I barely made it out alive. With no warning, and his room directly underneath... no. If he had survived, I would have found him by now. And... it's too late. Three years have weathered away any hope I had."

"You never know," Mikey offered. "I mean... it's possible, right?"

Baron Draxum knew this was a vain hope, one he didn't have the strength to allow any indulgence in.

"I do not wish to give myself false hope for what I know to be a fantasy," Draxum scolded. "But..."

But... he could hope, nonetheless. And perhaps one day, he really would see his son once more.

@sariphantom

(While I don't actually accept the whole Splinter's death from the anniversary comic as canon, I only accept it in this AU universe because it allows for Draxum to finally tell his kids about his other kids)

[thef1diary]

omg dirtbag!daniel is so good I can’t stop thinking about it! also your writing style is to die for. Was wondering if there was any more fuel in the tank for more dirtbag!daniel?

thank you, nonnie! I always have more dirtbag!daniel thoughts 🤭 this is what’s been on my mind lately: spit kink, marking + a bit of bratty reader. it turned out longer than I initially intended. drop some thoughts and I’d love to chat

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

Dirtbag!Daniel doesn’t own you. He never asked to, he never pretended to. But that didn’t stop him from treating you like you belonged to him, like your body existed solely for his amusement. Maybe it does, because no matter how filthy, how degrading his words get, you let him. You always come back for more.

Perhaps that’s why you were weaving your way through a packed bar, the dim lights flickering overhead and the bass of the music reverberating through your chest. The air is thick with humidity, the cloying scent of sweat and spilled beer clinging to every surface. It’s the kind of place where anonymity thrives—a place where you could disappear into the crowd if you wanted to.

But you didn’t come to disappear, no, you came because he called, and you were too far gone to resist.

You spot him almost immediately, leaning against the bar like he owned the place. One elbow rested lazily on the counter, a drink in his hand, his fingers curled loosely around the class. His head is tilted slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, but there’s no mistaking the moment he sees you.

A smirk spreads across his face, slow and smug, and you feel the pull of it like a hook in your chest. It’s infuriating, that smirk. It always is. It’s the way he tells you—without words—he’s two steps ahead, already planning how to leave his mark on you, both physically and mentally.

The bar is too crowded for you to think clearly, the press of bodies around you amplifying your nerves. But as you approach him, the rest of the room blurs into the background. All you see is him, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shirt clings to his frame, and the glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Daniel drawled, leaning in to speak to you over the din. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every inch of your body. It’s not fair, the way he makes you feel exposed without even touching you. Like he’s already imagined all the ways he’s going to break you tonight.

You force yourself to shrug, to play it cool. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a clink. “Figured you had more self-respect,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut.

The grin that followed is demeaning, the kind that made your stomach twist in equal parts anger and want. “Guess not,” he added.

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, the sharp edge of his insult cut deep—but not in the way they should. His insult only added to the simmering heat in your stomach, a twisted, shameful thrill curling low in your belly.

You hated how much you craved it—his mocking tone, the way he could peel you apart with a single look. But you won’t admit it. You opened your mouth to snap back, to tell him that you did have self-respect, thank you very much.

“I—”

But Daniel didn’t even give you the chance.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, interrupting without hesitation, his voice dripping with mockery. His fingers brushed against your arm as he leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “I wasn’t looking for an argument, sweetheart. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated the way his presence overwhelmed you, how his tone left no room for you to gain the upper hand. His smirk widened as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, like this was all a game to him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t craving something,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And we both know exactly what that is.”

Daniel didn’t even wait for you to respond, his smirk widening before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer. Before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours, the kiss filthy and unapologetic. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue parting your lips with ease.

You melted into him, your resistance crumbling the moment he pulled you against his chest. The sheer force of his presence made your knees weak, and you hated how easily you gave in, how much you wanted this.

He almost chuckled into the kiss, the vibrations teasing against your lips, but he didn’t pull away. No, Daniel kissed you like he had something to prove, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue hot and insistent. It was consuming, like he wanted to claim every part of you here and now, and he didn’t give a damn who saw it.

You dimly registered the press of bodies around you, the muffled gasps and sidelong glances from strangers who couldn’t help but notice the spectacle he was making of you. But Daniel didn’t care, not even a little. If anything, the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on, his hand gripping your hip possessively, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead brushing against yours as he smirked down at you, his breath fanning over your lips. His gaze was molten, full of arrogance and something darker, something that made your stomach flip.

“See? You’re too easy,” he muttered, his tone low and mocking, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he loved every second of it. His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, smearing the remnants of his own claim on you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny.

Daniel looked back, the smirk on his face growing as he signaled the bartender with two fingers. “Whiskey for me,” he said, his tone relaxed, almost bored, before his gaze slid back to you. “And for her…” He looked you up and down like he was appraising you, his lip curling slightly. “Something sweet. She needs it.”

You bristled at the condescension in his tone, but the bartender was already nodding, turning to make the drinks. Daniel’s attention shifted back to you, and he leaned his hip against the bar, his stance casual but his gaze piercing.

The drinks arrived moments later, and he slid it toward you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it over. “Go on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, the words laced with challenge. “Show me just how good you are at taking what I give you.”

Your fingers closed around the glass, but your grip faltered as his words sank in, their double meaning curling around your chest and tightening like a vice.

“I don’t take orders from you, Daniel,” you managed to bite out. Daniel raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “don’t you?”

His eyes dropped to the drink in your hand, then back to your face, challenging you. “C’mon, I know you can be good for me.”

Your grip tightened around the glass as you raised it to your lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. Daniel’s gaze stayed fixed on you, intense and unwavering, his smirk deepening as if he could feel the fire burning under your skin.

The drink was just as he’d ordered—sweet and cloying, the kind of thing that lingered too long on your tongue. His eyes flickered to your throat as you tipped the glass back, watching the subtle motion of you finishing the drink. The heat in his gaze made your skin prickle, and your breath hitched as you placed the empty glass on the bar with deliberate finality.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice like silk, but there was a dangerous edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without another word, he picked up his whiskey and downed it in a single smooth motion, the glass hitting the bar with a quiet clink. His hand found yours before you could react, his fingers firm but not rough as he tugged you from the bar.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You followed as he guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. He maneuvered you effortlessly, weaving through the bodies pressed close together until you reached a dark corner of the bar. The music was quieter here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that seemed to swallow you both whole.

Daniel turned to face you, his smirk growing as he backed you up against a wall. His eyes raked over you, dark and predatory, and for a moment, you felt like a cornered animal under his unrelenting gaze.

“Drop the act,” he murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it over the muffled thrum of the music. “We both know why you’re here.”

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” His eyes dragged over you, taking in every detail—the way your dress clung to your frame, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His gaze lingered, unapologetic and ravenous, and you felt the heat of it searing into you. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and cutting. “All dolled up, hoping I’d notice. Hoping I’d take one look at you and decide to ruin you.”

Your breath caught as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing, like he could see right through you

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he went on, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “The second I called, you came running, didn’t you? Like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Danny…” you murmured, the plea barely audible, your voice trembling under the weight of his words. Your cheeks burned, humiliation mingling with the thrill that coursed through you, leaving you lightheaded.

He simply chuckled, watching you squirm in place as he had you exactly where he wanted you. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing down just enough to part your lips. “Ah, ah,” he chided, his voice a mockery of sweetness. “Don’t get shy on me now. You wanted this. You wanted me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, desperately, the act slipping away as soon as he called you his slut—which was exactly what you were, what you’d always be for him.

“There it is,” he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His smirk widened, his thumb tracing the edge of your lip before dragging it down your chin, a slow, deliberate motion that made you shiver. “I can see it, you know. The way you’re squirming, the way your eyes keep flicking to my mouth like you’re imagining all the filthy things I could do to you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you, tightening the coil of tension low in your belly.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dipping even lower, the edge of his accent sharpening his words. “Say you came here for me. Say you came here to let me ruin you.”

Your lips parted, the heat of his gaze pulling the words from you before you could stop them. “I did,” you whispered, voice trembling as your cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “I came here for you. I want you to ruin me.”

His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “That’s my obedient little slut,” he murmured, a grin breaking out on his face.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick further—his kiss earlier already having ruined it—leaving a streak of red across your skin. His grin widened as his eyes followed the smear. “Such a pretty mess already. Let’s make it worse.”

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Stick out your tongue.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you obeyed, parting your lips and letting your tongue peek out, feeling utterly exposed under his watchful, predatory stare.

He tilted his head, letting a slow stream of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you held still, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Close,” he instructed, and you did, your lips sealing around the weight of his demand.

“Swallow,” he said next, his voice sharp and deliberate, the edge of his accent making it sound even filthier.

You swallowed, the act leaving a warmth in your belly that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. His smirk grew, impossibly smug, as his thumb returned to your jaw, tilting your face further toward him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “You take orders so well, don’t you? Makes me wonder what else that filthy mouth of yours is good for.”

You whimpered under the weight of his words, your knees threatening to give out as his free hand slid down to your shoulder, then lower, fingers toying with the strap of your dress. He tugged it down slightly, just enough to bare your skin to him—revealing a few more marks he left behind a couple days ago.

“Mine,” he muttered under his breath, leaning in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, biting down gently, then harder, until you gasped. He pulled back to admire the mark blooming on your skin—a deep red imprint of his teeth.

“You look so much better when you’re marked up,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Everyone who sees these will know exactly who you belong to.”

His hand wandered back up, fingers brushing the column of your throat before tightening just enough to send a wave of heat coursing through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch. “Being claimed, being ruined. You’ve been craving this all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into his touch. “Please, Danny. I want more.”

His grin turned almost cruel as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Oh, you’ll get more, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Perhaps you did belong to him, but the realization wasn’t as terrifying as you’d expected. In fact, it felt strangely natural, even comforting, as you found yourself agreeing with him without hesitation. Not that you ever had the strength to resist him in the first place. You were already a goner from the first time he degraded you like no other.

taglist: @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @evasmlp @mycenterfold @uhhvictoria @kaorisakamotofan @alice-went-away @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lilorose25

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER TWO !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ rafe’s feelings are conflicting, both for him and for you.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ nothing, i think.

003. NOTE !

✯ kinda filler (but not actually) chapter

word count : 1,6k words

Rafe Cameron likes to pretend that nothing in the world can hurt him, that nothing can truly bother him. Though he does hate, and he hates a lot. He hates the shrill sound of Rose’s voice, he hates the expectations Ward places on him, but most of all, he hates not having control. And tonight, at the party at Tannyhill, it feels like control is slipping through his fingers.

The party is everything Rafe Cameron loves and hates about his life rolled into one. On the surface, it’s perfect—just the right mix of chaos and control. The music is loud enough to drown out any awkward silences, the drinks flow as freely as the insults behind polished smiles, and every person in the room knows their place, even if they won’t admit it.

Rafe thrives in this world, the effortless ruler of his gilded kingdom, but tonight something is off. His usual sense of control feels… frayed, like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. He leans casually against a wall, scanning the room, and his jaw tightens when his eyes land yet again on Joshua Diaz.

Josh has always been likable in that unassuming, easygoing way—popular without being cocky, charming without trying. It’s infuriating, really, how people just gravitate toward him, and now you have fallen for his charm too. Because of course you have.

Rafe’s eyes follow you both as you weave through the crowd, your laughter bubbling up every time Josh leans in to whisper something. It’s a sound that cuts through the haze of noise, sharp and impossible to ignore. And Rafe hates that he notices it.

He tells himself it’s not jealousy. It’s something else—something easier to swallow, like irritation. Annoyance at Josh for bringing her here, into his space, when you so clearly don't belong. You’re a Pogue, for crying out loud. What is Josh even thinking?

But deep down, Rafe knows it’s not just about you being a Pogue. It’s the way you carry yourself, like you're unaware of the lines you’ve crossed just by stepping into his house. Like you don't care. It’s the way you laugh, uninhibited and real, in a way that no one in his world ever does. It’s the way you look at Josh, eyes bright and full of warmth that Rafe hasn’t seen directed at himself in years.

It’s maddening.

He shifts his weight, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches Josh place a hand on her back, guiding her through the crowd with ease. Rafe clenches his jaw, a low simmer of frustration building in his chest.

What does he see in you?

The question gnaws at him, and he hates that he’s even asking it. Hates that he’s wasting mental energy on a girl who should be nothing more than a passing annoyance. Yet he can’t stop watching you, can’t stop the irrational churn of emotions every time you smile at Josh like he’s the only person in the room.

He convinces himself it’s not about you. It’s about Josh. It’s about protecting his friend from making a mistake, from getting too close to someone who could never understand their world.

You’re looking out for him, Rafe tells himself, though the words ring hollow.

Rafe tears his gaze away, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you. The room feels suffocating now, the press of bodies and the buzz of conversation blending into a dull roar in his ears. He grabs a drink from the table beside him, more out of habit than thirst, and downs it in one sharp gulp. The burn of alcohol barely registers; his mind is too tangled in thoughts he refuses to name.

It shouldn’t matter to him. You shouldn’t matter to him. Yet, as much as he tries to push the feelings down, they bubble up like a poison he can’t shake. Every laugh, every fleeting touch between you and Josh grates on him, a reminder of just how out of control he feels tonight.

And control is everything to Rafe Cameron.

He sets the empty glass down harder than necessary, drawing a glance from one of the partygoers nearby. He ignores it, his attention already drifting back to you despite himself. You're standing near the pool now, the soft glow of the lights casting a golden hue over your skin. Josh is still by your side, but his focus has shifted to someone else. You’re alone, if only for a moment.

The logical part of Rafe tells him to let it go, to stay where he is and let the night play out. But another part—a louder, more reckless part—urges him forward. Before he can second-guess himself, he’s moving through the crowd, weaving between groups of people with single-minded determination.

When he reaches you, you don’t notice him at first, your gaze fixed on the water as you swirl the drink in your hand. There’s a calmness about you, an ease that feels so foreign in this world of his. For a moment, Rafe hesitates, caught between wanting to ruin it and wanting to understand it.

“You look out of place,” he says finally, his voice low but cutting.

You turn, startled, and meet his eyes. There’s no fear there, no shrinking under his scrutiny. Instead, you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.

“And yet, here I am,” you reply, seemingly unfazed.

The simplicity of your response throws him. Most people would stumble over themselves trying to appease him, but not you. You hold your ground, unbothered, and it both infuriates and intrigues him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, though the words come out weaker than he intends.

“Neither should you,” you counter, tilting your head. “You don’t even look like you’re enjoying your own party.”

Rafe opens his mouth to respond, but for once, he’s at a loss. You’re not wrong—he hasn’t enjoyed a single second of tonight. Yet, as much as he wants to push you away, he finds himself rooted in place, unwilling to leave.

“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out why Josh brought you here,” he says, falling back on the sharp edge of his words.

For a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Maybe you should ask him,” you say lightly. “Or is it easier to corner me instead?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to. For all his bravado, all his carefully crafted masks, he feels exposed under your gaze, as if you can see straight through him.

And he hates that too.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of the party muffled by the weight of the silence between you and Rafe. His sharp blue eyes hold yours, and though he tries to mask it, there’s something raw and unspoken lingering there—something that sets your nerves on edge and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Neither of you say a word, but the tension is palpable, stretching between you, ready to snap.

Then, like a switch being flipped, your expression changes. The barely-there softness in your gaze hardens. Without so much as a word, you turn your attention away from Rafe and lean into Josh. The move is deliberate, calculated, as if you’re making a point. You whisper something into Josh’s ear, your voice too low for Rafe to hear, but the intent behind it is clear.

Josh’s easy going demeanor shifts almost instantly. His brows furrow, and his head turns sharply in Rafe’s direction. There’s no mistaking the glint of surprise—and maybe a hint of irritation—in his eyes as they lock onto Rafe’s. Whatever you said, it’s enough to make Josh stand a little straighter, his shoulders squaring as he regards his friend with a newfound wariness.

Rafe stiffens under the weight of Josh’s gaze, his fists clenching at his sides. He feels exposed, like he’s just been caught in the act of something he can’t explain. The simmering frustration he’s been trying to suppress threatens to boil over, but he forces himself to stay composed. Barely.

Josh leans in closer to you, murmuring something he can’t quite catch, and you respond with a casual shrug, as if Rafe isn’t even worth a second thought. The sight of it—the ease with which you brush him off—grates on Rafe more than he cares to admit. It’s as if the two of you are speaking a language he doesn’t understand, leaving him on the outside looking in.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron feels like he’s lost control. And he hates it.

He hates that he can't tear his gaze away from the two of you as you weave once again through the crowd. Hates the way he barely moves from the spot he was standing, as if his feet are rooted to the floor by some invisible force, forcing him to watch you slip further away from him with each passing second. 

The longer he watches, the more he feels himself unraveling. Every smile you share with Josh, every glance exchanged between the two of you, twists something inside him, something raw and unexplainable. He’s not supposed to care. He knows that. You’re just another person in his world, another blip in the endless sea of faces he can’t be bothered to remember. But tonight, it feels different.

And he can’t stand it.

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[novaursa]

Flames in the West (a sad lion)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: his rock

- Next part: a marriage and a lannister

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The once-vibrant halls of Casterly Rock seemed unusually quiet—or so Jason Lannister thought as he trudged through them, his boots echoing against the stone floors. He hadn’t seen much of his wife in recent days, and what interactions they did have were… different. She wasn’t throwing her usual sharp jabs or teasing him with that infuriating yet captivating smirk. Instead, she had become polite. Reserved, even.

And Jason hated it.

He leaned against one of the arched windows overlooking the sea, a goblet of wine in hand and a deep frown etched into his features. The waves crashed against the cliffs far below, their rhythmic pounding doing little to soothe his growing paranoia.

Martyn Lannister strolled into the chamber, his easy grin in place as always. “There you are,” he said, plopping down into a nearby chair. “I was starting to think you’d fallen into one of the mine shafts.”

Jason didn’t reply, his frown deepening as he swirled the wine in his goblet.

Martyn raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “You look positively miserable, cousin. What’s wrong? Did the kitchen run out of your favorite vintage, or did Sylveris decide to roast one of your prized banners?”

Jason sighed dramatically, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “It’s Y/N.”

Martyn’s grin widened. “Ah, the dragon. What’s she done this time? Threatened to throw you off the battlements?”

“That would be preferable,” Jason muttered, finally turning to face him. “At least then I’d know she still cared.”

Martyn blinked, then burst into laughter. “She doesn’t care because she hasn’t threatened to kill you? You’ve lost me, Jason.”

Jason groaned, setting his goblet down on the windowsill. “She doesn’t insult me anymore. No jabs, no teasing—nothing. It’s like she’s ignoring me entirely.”

Martyn’s laughter grew louder. “That’s what’s bothering you? The lack of insults?”

“Yes!” Jason snapped, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? That’s how she shows affection—or at least, that’s how it used to be. Now she’s just… distant. Civil.”

Martyn leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “So, let me get this straight: your wife isn’t yelling at you or calling you names, and you’re upset about it?”

Jason shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Martyn said, smirking. “You’re addicted to her barbs, and now that she’s treating you like an actual lord, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Jason sighed again, pacing the room. “What if she’s found someone else?”

That caught Martyn off guard. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

Jason stopped pacing, turning to face his cousin with a look of genuine worry. “Think about it. Why else would she stop paying attention to me? What if there’s another man?”

Martyn stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter so loud it echoed off the walls. “Another man? Jason, you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Jason protested, his voice rising. “She’s barely said a word to me in days, and when she does, it’s all ‘Yes, my lord’ and ‘Of course, my lord.’ That’s not her. She’s up to something.”

Martyn wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “So let me get this straight: your wife, who’s carrying your child, is suddenly so bored with you that she’s taken a lover in the middle of your castle? Do you hear how absurd you sound?”

Jason crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “It’s not impossible.”

“Jason,” Martyn said, his tone still laced with amusement, “you’re not just a lion. You’re a delusional lion. She’s probably just tired, or distracted, or—dare I say it—growing another person inside her.”

Jason hesitated, his resolve wavering slightly. “But what if—”

Martyn cut him off, rising from his chair and clapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “If there were another man, Jason, do you really think she’d be subtle about it? She’s a Targaryen. She’d probably introduce him to you just to watch you squirm.”

Jason groaned, running both hands through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m helping more than you deserve,” Martyn quipped, shaking his head. “Listen, just talk to her. Ask her what’s on her mind. Or, better yet, stop being so insufferable and give her some space.”

Jason frowned, muttering under his breath. “Easy for you to say. You’re not married to a dragon.”

Martyn grinned. “No, but watching you flail around like this is entertainment enough.”

Jason threw him a withering look before turning back to the window, his thoughts still tangled. Martyn clapped him on the shoulder one last time before heading for the door.

“Good luck, cousin,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

Jason barely acknowledged him, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew Martyn was probably right—probably—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. And until he figured out what it was, he would remain the most miserable lion in all of Westeros.

The halls of Casterly Rock buzzed with quiet speculation as Jason Lannister, Lord of the Rock, embarked on what could only be described as an increasingly dramatic investigation. He’d spent the better part of the day questioning members of the household, demanding answers with the fervor of a knight preparing for battle.

“Have you seen anything unusual?” Jason asked a servant folding linens in the hallway. “Anything at all? A suspicious visitor? A secret meeting?”

The servant blinked at him, bewildered. “No, my lord. Only the usual.”

Jason frowned, muttering to himself as he moved on to his next suspect.

By mid-afternoon, he had interrogated a steward, a stable hand, and even the cook—each more confused than the last. His antics had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the household. By the time he cornered Martyn in the great hall, a small crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle unfold.

Martyn leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his grin as wide as the Sunset Sea. “Still convinced your wife has a lover, Jason?”

Jason glared at him. “Something’s going on, Martyn. I can feel it.”

“Let me guess,” Martyn drawled, feigning thought. “She smiled at someone in passing, and now you’re ready to start a trial.”

Jason ignored him, pacing in front of the growing audience. “She’s distant, she’s quiet, and she hasn’t insulted me in days. There’s more to this.”

One of the younger cousins piped up, giggling. “Maybe she’s just tired, my lord.”

Jason stopped, turning to face the group. “Tired of what? Of me?”

The crowd erupted into laughter, and Martyn clapped him on the back. “If she’s tired of you, she’d let you know. Trust me.”

Jason sighed dramatically, raking a hand through his hair. “Fine. If none of you have answers, I’ll just have to ask her myself.”

Jason stormed into your chambers with all the subtlety of a lion on the hunt. You were seated by the window, staring out at the sea with a faintly pale complexion. A cup of mint tea sat untouched on the table beside you.

“Y/N,” Jason said, his voice firm. “We need to talk.”

You turned your head slowly, fixing him with a weary stare. “Jason. If this is about you imagining me plotting against you with some mysterious lover, I’ll save you the trouble. There isn’t one.”

Jason hesitated, his righteous determination faltering. “How did you—?”

“You’ve been stomping around the castle like a madman all day,” you said, cutting him off. “It wasn’t hard to guess.”

Jason frowned, stepping closer. “Then what is it? Why have you been so… different?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you must know, I’ve been battling the constant urge to vomit.”

Jason froze. “Vomit?”

“Yes, Jason,” you said dryly. “It’s a common occurrence in pregnancy. Did you not read any of those books I had sent to the library?”

Jason blinked, his mind struggling to process this new information. “You’re sick? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you replied, sipping your tea carefully. “Though at this point, I wish I could throw up on you just to prove it.”

Jason’s reaction was immediate and utterly ridiculous. He sank into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I thought you hated me.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You thought I hated you because I wasn’t insulting you every five minutes?”

Jason looked up, his expression sheepish. “Well… yes.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Then, you began to laugh—quiet at first, then louder as the absurdity of the situation sank in. “Jason,” you said between breaths, “you’re an idiot.”

The door creaked open, and Martyn poked his head in, grinning like a cat with cream. “I heard shouting. Did he finally figure it out?”

Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, Martyn. She’s not plotting against me. She’s just… nauseous.”

Martyn stepped fully into the room, his grin widening. “That explains a lot. Though I think we all enjoyed watching you spiral.”

“Get out,” Jason muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone.

Martyn chuckled, bowing mockingly before retreating. “As you wish, my lord.”

As the door closed, Jason turned back to you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot.”

“You’re always an idiot,” you replied, though there was no bite in your words. “But you mean well.”

Jason smiled, reaching for your hand. “I’ll make it up to you. Anything you need—anything at all—you just tell me.”

You leaned back in your chair, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “Right now, I need you to stop being so dramatic. Can you manage that?”

Jason chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips. “For you, my lady, I’ll try.”

The rest of the household, of course, was thoroughly entertained when word of Jason’s misunderstanding spread. But for now, the lion and his dragon had found their peace—even if it was only temporary.

The halls of Casterly Rock were bustling with energy right the next day, not because of any pressing matters of state or impending feasts, but because Jason Lannister had declared it his personal mission to ensure his wife’s comfort during her pregnancy. Naturally, his methods were anything but subtle.

It began in the early morning, when Jason burst into your chambers with a tray in hand. The tray was precariously balanced, piled high with everything from honey-glazed bread to a steaming cup of mint tea he saw you drink yesterday. Behind him, two nervous servants trailed, carrying pitchers of juice and an assortment of dried fruits.

“Good morning, my love!” Jason announced, grinning like a man who thought he was about to win a tourney.

You looked up from your seat by the window, arching an eyebrow. “Jason. What is this?”

“Breakfast,” he said proudly, setting the tray down on the small table beside you. “I had the kitchens prepare everything you might crave. If you don’t like what’s here, I’ll have them bring more.”

You stared at the tray, then back at him. “This is enough food for an entire household.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “You’re eating for two. You need options.”

“I don’t need options,” you replied dryly. “I need you to stop hovering.”

Jason clutched his chest dramatically. “Hovering? I’m not hovering. I’m attending to your every need, as any devoted husband should.”

Martyn, who had appeared in the doorway just in time to witness the exchange, coughed into his hand to hide his laughter. “Attending or smothering? It’s a fine line, cousin.”

Jason shot him a glare. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Martyn.”

“No, but I’m giving it anyway,” Martyn said, stepping into the room. “This is delightful. Please, carry on.”

Later that afternoon, you decided to take a walk in the gardens, hoping for a moment of peace. Naturally, Jason insisted on accompanying you. He hovered like a mother hen, holding your arm as though the slightest misstep might cause catastrophe.

“Jason,” you said, exasperated, “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“I’m aware,” he replied, ignoring your tone as he guided you along the path. “But the ground is uneven, and I don’t trust these pebbles.”

You rolled your eyes. “The pebbles are fine. I’m fine. Please stop fussing.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, one of the younger Lannister cousins appeared with a mischievous grin. “My lord, I heard you’ve been quite the nursemaid lately.”

Jason straightened, his tone defensive. “I’m ensuring my wife’s comfort.”

“By hovering?” she teased, earning a snicker from Martyn, who had once again materialized to witness the scene.

Jason huffed, clearly outnumbered. “I’ll have you know, Y/N appreciates my efforts.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Do I?”

Jason blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Of course you do. Don’t you?”

Before you could answer, a gardener approached with a bouquet of golden roses freshly cut from the garden. Jason seized the opportunity to present them to you with a flourish.

“For you,” he said, his grin returning. “To brighten your day.”

You accepted the bouquet, raising an eyebrow. “They’re lovely. Did you cut them yourself?”

Jason hesitated, glancing at the gardener before replying, “I… supervised.”

The group erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t suppress a small smile.

That evening, Jason took his efforts to a new level by commissioning a troupe of performers to entertain you during supper. Among them was a juggler who insisted on incorporating live chickens into his act.

It did not go well.

As the juggler tossed the chickens into the air, one squawked loudly and escaped, flapping wildly around the hall. Guests ducked as the rogue bird swooped low, narrowly avoiding a platter of roasted venison.

Jason leapt to his feet, shouting instructions to the servants. “Catch it! Don’t let it ruin the feast!”

Martyn, sitting across from you, leaned back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “This might be your finest idea yet, Jason.”

Jason ignored him, lunging for the chicken himself. He missed, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a tray of wine goblets. You, meanwhile, sat calmly, eating your cake and watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

When the chicken finally landed in the lap of an elderly aunt, who shrieked loud enough to rival Sylveris, Jason managed to grab it by the legs and hold it aloft like a trophy. The hall erupted into applause and laughter.

“Problem solved,” he declared, slightly out of breath as he handed the bird back to the juggler with a stern glare. “No more chickens.”

As he returned to his seat beside you, you leaned over and murmured, “Very heroic, my lord.”

Jason grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Anything for you, princess.”

By the end of the day, Jason was exhausted but triumphant. He joined you in your chambers, watching as you settled onto the cushioned chaise by the fire.

“Well?” he asked, leaning against the doorway. “Did I succeed in making you more comfortable?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Let’s see. You brought me enough breakfast for an army, made a spectacle of yourself in the gardens, and nearly lost a chicken during supper. I suppose you were… entertaining.”

Jason laughed, crossing the room to sit beside you. “Entertaining? That’s it?”

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck, Jason.”

He wrapped an arm around you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “As long as you’re smiling, I’ll take it.”

Inside the grand chambers, the fire crackled warmly in the hearth as Jason Lannister sat at the edge of a cushioned chair, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his tongue poked out slightly—his signature thinking face.

You, reclining comfortably on the chaise with your ever-growing belly, watched him with equal parts curiosity and amusement. A plate of various fruits sat beside you, untouched, as you observed your husband’s peculiar intensity.

“Jason,” you finally said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look up, waving the quill dismissively. “Coming up with names.”

“For the child?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For our child,” Jason corrected, glancing up at you with a grin. “You know, the future lion-dragon of Casterly Rock. We can’t just call them ‘the baby.’”

You smirked, folding your hands over your belly. “And have you decided on anything?”

Jason held up the parchment triumphantly. “I’ve got a list!”

“Oh, this should be good,” you muttered, sitting up slightly. “Let’s hear it.”

Jason cleared his throat dramatically, as though preparing for a great performance. “If it’s a boy, I was thinking… Tylander.”

You blinked. “Tylander?”

“Strong, noble, and distinctly Lannister,” Jason said, clearly pleased with himself.

“Jason,” you said slowly, “that sounds like you mashed ‘Tyland’ and ‘Lannister’ together.”

Jason frowned. “Well, maybe. But it works, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you replied flatly. “Next.”

Jason sighed, glancing back at the list. “Alright. What about… Leorick?”

“Leorick?” you repeated, your tone incredulous. “It sounds like a name you’d give to a particularly pompous bard.”

Jason chuckled despite himself. “Fine. You’re a tough critic, my love. Let’s try another. If it’s a girl, I thought… Jasselle.”

You stared at him. “Jasselle.”

“Yes!” Jason said, his grin widening. “It’s elegant and unique.”

“It’s also clearly just your name with a few letters added and rearranged,” you pointed out.

Jason leaned back, his grin turning sheepish. “Well, I wanted to honor myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Jason, we’re naming a child, not commissioning a statue of you.”

“Fair enough,” Jason said, crossing out a few names. “What about something Valyrian? Like… Vezena?”

You tilted your head, considering it. “Not bad. But what does it mean?”

Jason hesitated. “Uh… probably something about fire and greatness.”

You smirked. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jason admitted, grinning. “But it sounds impressive, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Barely.”

By midday, Jason had dragged a second chair closer to yours, the parchment now covered in scribbles and crossed-out names. Several servants passed through the room, their expressions carefully neutral as they overheard snippets of the increasingly ridiculous discussion.

“What about Caster?” Jason asked, tapping his quill against his chin.

“For a boy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Or a girl,” Jason said with a shrug. “Unisex names are all the rage in Lannisport.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Caster. Of Casterly Rock.”

Jason blinked. “Oh. Right. That might be a bit… redundant.”

“A bit?” you repeated, smirking.

Jason huffed, tossing the quill onto the table. “Fine. Your turn, oh wise one.”

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “How about something simple? Like Aelora, if it’s a girl.”

Jason’s expression softened. “Aelora. That’s… beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling. “And for a boy, maybe… Daeryn.”

“Daeryn,” Jason echoed, testing the name on his tongue. “It’s strong. I like it.”

“Well, there we go,” you said, leaning back with a triumphant smile. “Problem solved.”

But Jason wasn’t done yet. “What if we combined them? Aelorick for a boy. Or… Daesselle for a girl?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Jason, stop.”

He laughed, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Fine, fine. But you have to admit, this is fun.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered, though there was a faint smile on your lips. “At this rate, the child will be born before we agree on anything.”

Jason grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, we’ve still got time. And until then, I’ll keep working on my list.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him return to his scribbling with boyish enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of affection. For all his dramatics, Jason’s excitement was genuine, and his love for you—and the child you carried—was as clear as the sun over Casterly Rock.

You sat by the window early in the morning, absently stroking the armrest of your chair as a servant placed a silver tray with your morning tea before you. The peace was broken when Jason burst into the room, a sealed parchment in hand and a grin plastered across his face.

“A raven!” he announced dramatically, holding the scroll aloft like a prized trophy.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your tea. “Jason, ravens come daily. Are we celebrating their flight now?”

“Not just any raven,” Jason said, striding to the table and dropping the scroll in front of you. “It’s from your father, the king.”

Your eyes flicked to the royal seal, and you picked up the parchment, breaking the wax with practiced ease. Jason leaned over your shoulder, reading the words as you did.

“An invitation,” you murmured, skimming the elegant script. “To a royal wedding. Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon.”

Jason clapped his hands together. “A royal wedding! That means feasts, dances, and—”

“Hours of tedious travel,” you interrupted, setting the letter down. “While I’m heavily pregnant, no less.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. We’ll take our time, and I’ll ensure you’re comfortable. We can’t miss this! Think of the grandeur, the spectacle—”

“The politics,” you added pointedly, arching an eyebrow.

Jason ignored you, already pacing as his mind raced with ideas. “We’ll need to start preparations immediately. The finest horses, the best wines to bring as gifts—no, the best gold. Velaryons love their ships, don’t they? I’ll have a golden trident commissioned. It’ll be perfect.”

You sighed, watching as your husband spiraled into a whirlwind of planning. “Jason, it’s a wedding, not a coronation.”

“It’s Rhaenyra’s wedding,” Jason said, spinning on his heel to face you. “Your sister. That makes it doubly important. We must arrive in style.”

The castle hummed with activity by mid-afternoon, thanks to Jason’s orders. Servants scurried about with rolls of fabric, crates of Lannister gold, and lists so long they trailed behind their carriers. Martyn, naturally, was in the thick of it, as he watched the chaos with an amused grin.

“Do you ever tire of creating a spectacle, cousin?” Martyn asked as Jason passed by, barking orders to a servant carrying a bundle of crimson cloaks.

“A spectacle?” Jason repeated, his tone affronted. “This isn’t a spectacle. This is preparation. A royal wedding requires a royal effort.”

Martyn smirked, glancing at the two knights polishing a gilded carriage nearby. “And the golden carriage?”

“For comfort,” Jason said, brushing off the sarcasm. “Y/N deserves nothing less.”

“She’ll love that,” Martyn muttered under his breath. “I’m sure she adores the idea of being paraded through the streets like a queen.”

Jason shot him a look. “She is the Lady of Casterly Rock. It’s only fitting.”

“Is that why you’ve ordered enough supplies to outfit a small army?” Martyn asked, gesturing to the growing pile of crates.

“Provisions,” Jason said firmly. “And gifts. You wouldn’t show up to a royal wedding empty-handed, would you?”

Martyn chuckled. “I’d show up with my sanity intact, which is more than I can say for you.”

By evening, Jason gathered the household in the great hall, standing at the head of the table with his usual flair for dramatics. You sat beside him, your hand resting lightly on your belly as you watched him address the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jason began, raising a goblet. “We’ve been invited to the royal wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon. This is not merely an invitation; it is an opportunity—a chance to remind the realm of the strength and splendor of House Lannister.”

The household exchanged amused glances, accustomed to Jason’s theatrical speeches.

“We will travel with dignity,” Jason continued, his voice rising. “We will bring gifts that reflect our status. And we will leave an impression so grand that even the dragons will be jealous.”

You leaned toward Martyn, whispering, “Do you think he rehearses these speeches in the mirror?”

Martyn grinned. “Absolutely.”

Jason, oblivious to the murmured commentary, finished his toast with a flourish. “To House Lannister and our journey to the royal wedding!”

The room erupted into polite applause, and Jason sat down beside you, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you remarked, smirking.

Jason grinned, raising his goblet. “Of course I am. It’s not every day we get to show your kin how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. For all his dramatics, Jason’s excitement was infectious—and you had to admit, the journey to King’s Landing promised to be anything but dull.

[quarterlifekitty]

Something Lacking

Note: uhhh this is just something for the Haunting Ground!AU where you take the role of Fiona and Simon is taking the role of Daniela. I just love comparing Simon and Daniela. If this seems like it’s kind in the middle of a narrative— it is, but I wanted to share!

For slight context: in this, Ghost is a homunculus who does not have the essence of life. As a descendent of alchemists, you have a lot of it!

cw: very slight unsanitary, non-consensual touching, slut shaming

“Captain said he made me the perfect man… But I can’t taste. Can’t feel any pleasure. Can’t even feel any pain…” his dark eyes idly pass over his hands, scarred and callous— his fingertips bloody. Without pain he cannot tell when the heat has reached the handle, when the knife has gone too far past the carrot.

“I ain’t complete.” He speaks in a cool, even tone. A suffocating silence settles over the room.

“I… Please excuse me,” you say as politely as you can manage with your quivering, opening the door at your back so you can watch him as you slip through it. He seems less than a degree from giving chase. You have enough of that to deal with.

You once saw Ghost through a keyhole. That man, Graves, slapping him across the face. Blood snearing from the corner of his mouth, but he made no move to retaliate.

“You gonna tell me where your fuckin’ Captain is, Ghost? We can keep at this all day, y’know. Better yet… tell me where she is.” Simon just stared ahead, ambivalent. He turned towards the door slowly.

Towards you. But how could he have known?

He smiles. It was a smile that betrayed no joy whatsoever. There was nothing behind the eyes but…

Well, it’s the closest thing Ghost has to joy. To pleasure.

Anticipation.

You laid down in bed— feeling sick to your stomach. Soap went off, looking for medicine. A castle full of alchemical equipment should have some, shouldn’t it? Besides— more lavender would do that racing heart of yours some good, too.

You’re completely unconscious when Ghost enters the room, silent as his namesake. His scarred fingertips run across your cheeks. There’s a brightness to your skin that he’s never seen— you’re a creature that’s known the sun well. He travels down, dry blood flaking from his skin as his hand as it smooths over the fabric of your blouse.

You’re the first real woman he’s seen. And from what Price has to say— you’re regarded as an exemplary specimen. He can see why.

His hand pauses at your abdomen. He can smell it. Any creature that lacks it can. Your azoth. The essence of your life. What makes you so… vivacious. Soap has a very trace amount, being a natural born creature of the earth like you, but what’s in you is like a font. An overflowing well, cultivated over generations of alchemical discoveries.

It fills Simon with something unknown to him. To see you in restful sleep. So soft, so whole, able to dream. The roiling in his gut must be hatred.

Your beauty. The curves of your form. He would bet you’d had plenty of pleasure in your life. Frolicking in the world outside… in the sun. The smile that graced your face when you were with that dog of a man that followed you at the heel. You must have welcomed— lured him into this filthy body.

And yet the captain wanted you. Graves wanted you too. Even König, in his own deluded way. It burned him inside, the deep black pit beneath his lungs being overtaken and licked with climbing flames. What a precious little princess you were. Desired, pleasured, joyful. Even your tears, your cries of fear… It all amounted to an infuriating humanity. To know even a fraction of those sensations… had you any idea what lengths to which he would go?

Of course not. A princess doesn’t concern herself with such things.

You awake to the feel of his fingers dug into the flesh of your abdomen, as if he could rip the azoth out from you through there. You gasp, rolling over until your back is against the wall. That smile once again plays on his face as he allows you to retreat. He grips you chin with a viper’s strike, forcing you to look at him.

“You can tell, can’t you, darlin’? I’m not complete. ‘S somethin’ you have that I don’t…”

“I d-don’t… I don’t understand— y-you seem…” your eyes flick over him. He’s scarred to hell, but by no means maimed. “…fine.”

Ghost’s eyes search yours. For what, he doesn’t know.

The opposite of love is not hate. It’s apathy. And the apathy he’s felt for his entire life is draining from him the more he observes you. His hand shakes as the deep, dark pit inside of him grows wider.

[elaichichais-blog]

Luo Binghe Vs Hua Cheng Vs Wei Wuxian

How I think the fight would and who would win (this is my personal opinion)

Luo Binghe

Strengths- Protagonist-halo power, devastating strength, and demonic energy that can obliterate opponents in seconds. His stamina and endurance far surpass most opponents. Shen Qingqiu.

Weaknesses- Overconfidence and emotional vulnerability. If he’s distracted by personal feelings or manipulated, it could cost him. Shen Qingqiu.

Hua Cheng

Strengths- Regeneration makes him nearly impossible to kill, and his mastery of illusions and manipulation of the environment can disorient opponents. Xie Lian.

Weaknesses- Though highly skilled, his combat style relies on cleverness and trickery, and prolonged battles against someone as overpowering as Luo Binghe might wear him down. Xie Lian.

Wei Wuxian

Strengths- Genius-level strategist, unpredictable, master of ghost cultivation, and capable of turning enemies’ strengths into weaknesses. Lan Wangji.

Weaknesses- His reliance on cunning over brute strength could leave him vulnerable against opponents who simply overpower him before his plans can take effect. Lan Wangji.

Now I think a battle between this trio would be apocalyptic.

Luo Binghe would begin the battle with overwhelming brute force, his demonic energy shattering the battlefield in an attempt to overpower both opponents outright. Hua Cheng, with his demeanour, would counter with illusions and his ghost army, forcing Luo Binghe to fight on two fronts while evading direct confrontation. Wei Wuxian would definitely exploit the chaos by summoning powerful fierce corpses and using talismans to disrupt the flow of battle. However, Luo Binghe’s short temper would begin to show as Wei Wuxian’s cunning tactics—binding talismans, ghost traps, and strategic interference—start to wear on his patience.

Infuriated by Wei Wuxian’s interference, Luo Binghe would shift his focus, unleashing his full wrath to eliminate him from the fight. Despite Wei Wuxian’s ability to evade direct combat, he simply wouldn’t have the raw power to withstand Luo Binghe’s relentless attacks for long, especially if this is post canon. After a fierce but brief struggle, Wei Wuxian would be forced out of the battle, leaving Hua Cheng to face Luo Binghe one-on-one.

The battle between Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe would be a storm of devastating power and unshakable resolve. Luo Binghe, fueled by an endless well of demonic energy and the protection of protagonist halo, would tear through Hua Cheng’s ghost armies and illusions with relentless ferocity, his strikes leveling the battlefield. Hua Cheng, unyielding and methodical, would counter with cunning misdirection, forcing Luo Binghe into a web of illusions that blurred reality and left him questioning his own senses. But Luo Binghe’s sheer strength and refusal to back down would shatter even the most intricate traps, pushing Hua Cheng to rely on his regenerative immortality to endure.

As the fight would drag on, Luo Binghe’s frustration with Hua Cheng’s resilience would boil over. Spotting the deep emotional tether that Hua Cheng has to Xie Lian, Luo Binghe would craft a cruel and precise maneuver: using the dream realm to show Xie Lian in mortal peril. Hua Cheng, despite knowing it could be a trick, wouldn’t risk hesitation. His protective instincts would override his logic, leaving him vulnerable to a crushing attack from Luo Binghe.

The illusion would break in the aftermath, leaving Hua Cheng bloodied but not broken.

Overall I think Luo Binghe would win but this battle could have gone either way.

[velvetvexations]

Just some rambles about packers and sexualisation, idk where else to put it and idk if you care, so feel free to ignore me, haha.

A while ago, I saw a post (or video? Not sure) where someone said that "packers shouldn’t be sexual" when talking about realistic looking packers, and there’s two main things I want to talk about here.

First is that realistic looking packers just straight up aren’t sexual. No one would think a cis man walking around with a "realistic looking dick" in his pants is sexual, and it’s no different when the dick is made of silicone.

What pisses me off even more is the trans guys in the comments who were like "yeah I pack with a pair of socks I don’t need that shit" and similar sentiments because like. Good for you? But for some trans men just making it vaguely look like they have a dick isn’t enough. Some trans men do have very bad bottom dysphoria, and using realistic looking packers might help with that, and something like a pair of socks or a jock strap or a crocheted packer isn’t the same! The latter does work for some ofc, but not for everyone, and putting down the guys who want realistic looking packers is just shitty.

And also the disgust at packers that can get hard (like 3-in-1 or pack-and-play) is so fucking infuriating. No one would act like a cis man is sexualising all people around him just because he has a dick in his pants that can get hard, but when a trans man wants that? He’s a perverted piece of shit running around with a "dildo" (yes I saw people call pack-and-play packers that) in his pants.

How about we stop sexualising everything trans people do and stop acting like trans people are disgusting perverts just for wanting sex like most cis people do? How about we stop talking like that about people's genitals, wether they were born with them or chose to put them there (with packers or surgery, bc people say the same type of shit about phallo- or metoidioplasties (and vaginoplasties ofc), too)?

Why do we have to sensationalise every choice trans people make so much? It’s just a dick made of silicone. It looking realistic doesn’t make it sexual? Like. Most people aren’t even going to see it. It’s inside someone’s underwear. Why do some trans people care so much (negatively) about what makes other trans people happy?

And second: Who cares if it is sexual?? Who cares if a trans guy wants a realistic looking pack-and-play or 3-in-1 packer specifically so he can have sex with it? It’s not affecting any one else in any way. They don’t have to have sex with the guy if they don’t want to, they’re aware of that, yes?

And the implied assumption that a trans person is more likely to harass or assault someone is just straight-up transphobic, no matter what is used a "justification" or reason (here being that the guy chose to put on a realistic looking silicone dick that’s capable of penetration).

It’s just some guy. Some guys have dicks. Some guys dicks can get hard. It’s not that deep (insert sex joke here/lh).

Like just. Idk. I wish people would just shut up about other people’s bodies, especially trans people’s bodies, and stop judging trans people for the way they deal with dysphoria or the way they want their body to be. It shouldn’t be that hard to just not do something. But ig people just want to find a kind of trans people it’s okay to accuse of being predators and perverts and packers (esp. packers that can be used for penetration) are an easy target.

It’s just so tiring. I just want to find some guys talking about packing and stuff like that and I immediately have people calling them disgusting rapist-perverts who are sexualising themselves and everything they look at. Just because they want dicks. Or because they want to be able to penetrate someone (oh the horror. Some trans people (want to) have sex, and some may experience dysphoria around sex. We should kill them, right?)

I don’t even want to pack myself. I just like knowing things. But everytime I research personal experiences with packing, I find shit like this and it’d getting on my nerves.

Okay I’m done now. It got a bit longer than anticipated, I’m a bit worked up about this topic. Thank you for reading all this, hope you have a good day.

If it helps any anon, I feel the same way about needing breasts that cartoonishly massive to ease my dysphoria but that's a much bigger problem for me than it is for any of the cis women who have famously gotten breasts that large.

[gnabnahc317cb97]

President of the AV club

Seungmin x female reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! MDNI! Strong language/swearing, S2L, professor reader/college student Seungmin (they're close in age), biting/marking, protected piv sex, oral (m & f), deep throating/face fucking (very little), pet names (pretty, beautiful, Seungmin calls reader professor), semi public sex (in an empty classroom), big dick Seungmin, tit fucking (Seungmin is borderline obsessed with your boobs), spit play (a little), cum shot, cum eating (very little).

Word count: 8.9k

You were having the worst case of the Mondays ever! It started when you realized you had shrunk your favorite suit. Then when you checked your laundry, you realized it was the only suit you had that was actually clean and dry at that moment, so you HAD to wear it. It fit-ish but was almost uncomfortably tight on you, especially the skirt which was already form fitting to begin with. After that your car service didn’t show up and you had to take the bus, which you missed, so you were running behind and late for work, which you were sure your boss would have something to say about.  

When you finally did get to work sure enough, you ran into the head of your department who admonished you for your tardiness. Afterwords you hurried to the teacher’s lounge area to get your morning coffee. When you grabbed your mug to go you burnt your hand and managed to spill that hot coffee all over the incredibly snug suit jacket you had on. 

Sure, you burned yourself but that was the least of your problems. If you took off the stained jacket it would leave you in a pretty shear white blouse. You were an art history professor at a prestigious college. It was very conservative, you needed to dress and look a certain way and the top was way more see through than you had initially realized. The coffee stain on the cream-colored blazer was unsightly, not to mention it was very uncomfortable. You decided you would wear it out but once you got to your class, you’d take the jacket off.  

Luckily today you were going to be showing slides in class so you’d be at the back of the room behind the students in the dark. You hoped whatever god was listening would let up and let you get through the day without anyone noticing your lace bra showing through your shirt or anything else fucking up. It was as if the god’s heard your plea and took your criticism personally. Now, because you had even dared to think it, that was in no way, under any circumstances, allowed to happen for you.  

You did manage to get to your class room without being stabbed or getting struck by lightning though. You walked in and tossed your now, completely, ruined jacket aside then started setting up for the day. You laid out work packets on the desks, wrote any pertinent notes on the board to be copied down, and turned on the slide projector to get it ready... and turned on the slide projector to get it ready... and turned ON-  

“What the fuck!” You cursed to yourself out loud. This wasn’t happening to you right now. The contraption you used to show your slides was ancient but it usually worked for you without much of a hassle. You spent thirty infuriating minutes trying every trick you knew to fix it before you got frustrated and gave up. 

Fuck it, you would just call IT to come fix it. It could be their problem. After another thirty minutes you finally got through to someone on the phone. The gruff man you spoke with told you technically those projectors aren’t an IT issue but they did have a guy they could call that could probably fix it. It would be a while before he could get there though.  

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, fighting off the headache that was forming. Just great. You’d have to cancel morning classes last minute and wait around. There went your morning. You told the man if he could make the call you would be grateful and thanked him for his help. Once you were off the phone you sent out the email to your students saying both morning classes were cancelled and that afternoon classes were pending.  

The department head would be pissed if you cancelled all your classes for the day without advanced notice, regardless of whatever technical difficulties you may be having. So you hoped the guy showed up and got it fixed in time for your afternoon classes, for the sake of your own sanity. You sat down at your desk and put in your ear buds. You pulled up Spotify and turned on one of your classical playlists to listen to while you graded papers and outlined lesson plans, ready to wait god knows how long for this IT guy to show up. 

After about an hour you managed to stop looking at the clock every five minutes and got lost in your work. Before you knew it another hour had passed and you wondered if the grumpy guy you spoke to even called the other guy. You debated calling again to make sure but he did tell you it would be a while. So, not wanting to be a nuisance, you turned your music back up and continued working.  

You had just gotten completely sucked into your work again when you felt someone gently tap your shoulder. You jumped and screamed as your hand flew to your chest, covering your racing heart. You looked over and you saw a really cute guy, probably around your age, holding up his hands in surrender. He looked like the type of guy that wrote love poems on a typewriter and collected classic novels and vinyl records. 

He had on a pair of worn-down loafers, brown corduroys, and had layered a blue bowling shirt and a vintage looking patterned sweater over a loose white t-shirt. He had on a big pair of wire frame glasses that were slightly tinted yellow, probably to block blue light you assumed. They didn’t block his pretty brown eyes though or cover up how beautiful he was. When you finally made eye contact his kind brown eyes were big and apologetic. You took out your ear buds. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you miss. I knocked and said hello but you didn’t hear me I guess.” He pointed at the ear buds in your hands. 

“Oh no it’s fine. Morning classes have been cancelled. How can I help you?” You smiled warmly at him. He liked it. You were an extremely beautiful woman, he thought you had the prettiest smile and when he looked down he just happened to notice how sheer your shirt was. He did he couldn’t help but think that he’d like to see more of you. He reigned his thoughts in and managed to smile back at you. 

“Oh, no, I’m not in your class. I’m here to help you I think actually.” You were glad to hear he wasn’t one of your students because there sure were a few things you would let him help you with. He wasn’t a gym bro or flashy or cocky like the other assholes that typically gravitated towards you.  

He had a thin frame and was beautiful in a kind of mysterious way. He seemed to have a confidence about him that didn’t come across as arrogance and he spoke politely. ‘Yeah he could definitely get it’ you thought to yourself. After a second the cogs started moving in your head again and you realized who he was. 

“Oh you must be the guy from IT!” He smiled, flashing teeth that were so perfect you wondered if he’d had braces as a kid and extended his hand to shake yours. 

“I’m Kim Seungmin and you're Mrs. y/l/n is that right?” You nodded. 

“Well... not Mrs, professor, but please just call me y/n.” He smiled brightly at you again, his pretty eyes scrunching up, very happy to hear you weren’t married. He wondered if you had a boyfriend. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

“Okay. Y/n. Well y/n... I’m technically not a part of IT. I’m actually just the president of the schools AV club. None of the IT guys know how to work on these old projectors though and they know I nerd out on old tech like that so they always end up calling me when one goes on the fritz. I’m really sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I had a class that I couldn’t miss and it was on the other side of campus...” Your heart sank a little when you realized he might not be your student but he was a student at the college. Of course he was! With the way your day was going, of course he was. Student and faculty fraternizing was STRICKTLY prohibited and was grounds for immediate suspension pending a school board hearing for formal termination. 

“Anyway, I hope I didn’t waste too much of your morning.” He wasn’t just pretty he was also incredibly nice. You tried shifting your thoughts away from how disappointed you were that a nice, cute guy like him was off limits to you. 

“Oh no! It’s okay, really. You’re using your personal time to help so I appreciate it. I mean I had to cancel my morning classes but I was able to catch up on some work while I waited so it’s not a big deal. I’m just hoping you can get it fixed in time for afternoon classes so my boss doesn’t flip his top.” He nodded then scanned the room until he spotted the projector at the back of the class. He pointed at it. 

“This is the one yea?” He started walking up the steps towards the projector and you stood to follow. He crouched down and started tinkering with it, opening the side, pulling out pieces, troubleshooting the issue. 

“Yea that’s it. I tried all the things I usually do when it gives me fits and the fucking thing just won’t work.” It wasn’t until Seungmin looked up at you surprised, laughing loudly that you realized what you had said. It just slipped out when you remembered your earlier frustration with the contraption. 

“Oh shit!” You slapped your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. You moved your hand away from your face a little, embarrassed. 

“I mean whoops! I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t appropriate.” Seungmin shook his head, still snickering a little at you for blushing because you said a swear word. 

“I’m a big boy professor, you’re allowed to cuss in front of me.”  That sentence shouldn’t have made you want to press your thighs together but the way the words left his lips made your knees a little weak. ‘STUDENT!’ You yelled at yourself. ‘He’s a student!’ 

Seungmin went back to figuring out what the issue with your projector was and you hovered as if you could do anything to help. He pulled a little canvas tool pouch from his back pocket and unrolled it, grabbing a surprisingly small screw driver to adjust something on one of the pieces he had removed to see if it helped. 

Seungmin glanced up at you watching him a moment and when he did, he noticed the light coming from behind you made it so he could see right through your shirt. He’d noticed before was pretty sheer but now, with the light, he could see your pretty lace bra perfectly through your shirt.  

He felt his dick start twitching to life in his pants and fumbled the canvas pouch on his lap, dropping and scattering his tools on the floor. He started gathering them back up and hoped you didn’t notice how red his ears were turning. Even though it was difficult in your extra tight skirt you crouched down and started to help him pick up the tools. Seungmin watched the curve of your full ass when you bent down. Then quickly looked away and continued picking up his tools. 

“Oh you don-” Seungmin choked on his words when he looked up again. The way you were leaned over now, grabbing tools from the floor, he could see right down your blouse. He could see the curve of your collar bones, the way your full breasts spilled from the top of your bra. He could see the valley between them and couldn’t help but imagine how soft that skin was and how good it would feel on his cock as he fucked your big tits. 

“Seungmin?” When Seungmin heard your sweet voice say his name he snapped out of it and saw that you were holding the tools you had picked up out for him to take. 

“OH! You really didn’t... I mean I could have gotten... I mean... uh... thank you.” You smiled at him again, that pretty fucking smile. Seungmin cleared his throat grabbing the tools and turned his attention back to the broken projector.  

You leaned over him watching again, trying to see what he did so the next time it happened you knew how to fix it yourself. When you got in closer Seungmin could smell your perfume and his dick, which had only been a minor issue before was becoming a BIGGER one but before he could panic about it, he thought he noticed something odd with a part of the projector he hadn’t removed. 

“Oh!” Seungmin took a little pen light from his shirt pocket and shined it into the opening, confirming what he thought he had seen. 

“Yep that’s the problem right there!” You leaned in even closer than you were before and when Seungmin turned his head he was caught off guard by your proximity and how close your face was to his. He couldn’t help but notice how pouty your lips were. 

“What?” You asked as you leaned in even closer, a few strands of hair falling into your face as you tried to see what he saw. He wanted to push the stray hairs away and kiss you. What would you do if he did. 

“I can’t see it.” Seungmin snapped out of it and shook the thought from his head, turning his attention back to the machine. He shined the light into the open side of the projector for you and took his little screw driver pointing at the part inside. 

“See this.” He glanced over at you again to see if you could see. You cutely scrunched your face and looked closer. You did see it. 

“Mhmm.” You hummed and slightly nodded as you zeroed in on the part he was pointing at. 

“See that jagged piece?” You nodded, mhmm-ing again, focused on what Seungmin was teaching you about the machine in front of you while he struggled to take his eyes off you. 

“Well, that’s not supposed to be jagged like that. There was a piece there that’s broken off, it’s probably in the bottom of it somewhere. This thing is from the 80’s so after a lot of wear and tear parts like these just break for no real reason.” You sighed heavily and sat up straight. You didn’t realize how closely you had leaned into Seungmin’s space as you were looking at the projector and bumped into him when you did. He lost his balance being in his crouching position and fell back on his ass. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” He laughed and held up his hand signaling to you that it was okay. 

“I’m fine, no harm done. Really! I’ve taken worse spills after a drunken night with my buddies.” You extended your hand to help him up. He accepted your hand but didn’t actually allow you to pull him up. Once he was standing in front of you again your eyes locked and it was like time froze. He was so beautiful. You were absolutely stunning. Your hands lingered as you stood there. Seungmin ran his thumb over the back of your hand and then you remembered where you were.  

You had to keep it together, ‘he is a student’ you reminded yourself again. ‘You will lose your job!’ You quickly pulled your hand away taking a step back to create a little space between the two of you. His musky cologne was making your head feel swimmy.  

You started stammering, trying to get the thoughts in your head to come out as words that an educated woman, such as yourself, would put together. You directed your attention back to the projector, hoping if you weren’t looking into those gorgeous brown eyes you would be able to form words. 

“S-s-so... um... you can fix it?” When you pulled away like you did Seungmin hoped he hadn’t made you uncomfortable touching your hand like that. He wasn’t even thinking when he did it. He cleared his throat finding it a bit difficult to speak himself. 

“Oh! Uh... well... yea I can fix it...” You were about to rejoice that at least one thing in your shitty day, no matter how minute, was about to go right until Seungmin finished his thought. 

“But...” Your shoulders immediately slumped. 

“But?” Seungmin knew this wasn’t going to be news that pleased you and he wished he could give you good news so he could see your pretty smile come back. 

“But, it’s a part I’ll have to order from a specialty shop. It’ll probably take a couple days to get here.” You wrapped one of your arms around your midsection and pressed your fingers into your eyes, sighing deeply. Your headache from before was making a reappearance.  

“I’m going to have to cancel all my classes for today. Damn it! The department head is gonna chew my ass out.” You were so upset you didn’t even care that you just cussed in front of Seungmin again. He tried to be reassuring.  

“Well as soon the part shows up I can come fix it for you right away. I’m sorry I know that doesn’t really help you with classes today.” You looked at him and gave him a weak smile, not like the one he’d hoped to put on your face at all. He felt bad. 

“Thanks Seungmin, you did what you could. I appreciate you wasting your free time to try and help.” You walked back down by your desk feeling defeated by the day and it was barely lunch. Seungmin followed you down and stood behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing, trying to comfort you. 

“You didn’t waste my time. It was no problem at all y/n. Really. Maybe I could talk to your department head and explain...” You shook your head. 

“No it’s fine, I’ll deal with him. It’s just...” You were over this day. You could feel your resolve begin to crumble. You covered your face and took a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry right here in front of a stranger, a student. No matter how kind he had been. 

“This day has just been the worst from the start.” Your last words came out a little choked and you could no longer fight off the tears that welled in your eyes. Your bottom lip started trembling and Seungmin heard the quiver in your voice as you started to cry.  

He gripped your shoulder making you turn and face him. Your hand was still blocking your face. He gently grabbed your wrist and pull it away. When he saw the tears quietly streaking your beautiful face he wished so badly that he could help. He would do anything in his power so you didn’t cry. 

“OH! OH! Hey! Nonono! Y/n don't cry...” He didn’t hesitate to pull you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It’s the only thing he could think to do. As soon as you were in his arms you broke down. You threw your arms around his neck, buried your face in his shoulder and just let it all out. All the frustrations from the day just came pouring out of you. You rested your head against Seungmin’s chest, surrounded by his warmth, breathing him in, holding tightly as you continued to cry. 

“It’ll be okay, it’s okay, alright? We’ll figure it out.” He rubbed his hands back and forth across your back trying to soothe you. After a moment you seemed to start to calm down a little. Your head was still rested on Seungmin’s chest so he couldn’t see your face to know for sure if you had stopped crying. So he just held you, listening to your little gasps and sniffles as you tried to get a hold of yourself completely. 

Once you got it together you realized how you were clinging to Seungmin. He had you wrapped in his arms as he slightly swayed. You lifted your head, not looking at him, embarrassed for crying like you had. You wiped at your nose and tried to put a little space between you and Seungmin but he wouldn’t let you take much. 

“I’m so sorry! I... I don’t know what came over me... I...” Seungmin tilted his head down a bit making you look him in the eyes. When your eyes locked, for the second time that day, you felt a sense of calm wash over you and everything seemed to stand still again.  

“Hey it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” Seungmin’s hand gently cupped your face and he wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. You couldn’t help closing your eyes and leaning into the warmth of his hand. It was suddenly just the two of you floating in nothingness, everything else had fallen away.  

Seungmin’s eyes scanned over your tear-stained face and the thought he’d had before about kissing you returned. He leaned in closer. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned down the rest of the way and kissed you.  

Your lips were salty from your tears and that broke Seungmin’s heart. When you didn’t pull away he moved his lips against yours with more purpose. He tried to deepen the kiss further and your heart started racing, a fresh surge of adrenaline setting alarm bells off in your head. When you realized what you were doing you quickly broke the kiss and pushed Seungmin back a little, successfully putting space between you this time. 

“Waitwaitwait! We can’t do this Seungmin.” Seungmin didn’t want to hear that. He wanted you in his arms again. He wanted his lips pressed against your soft lips again. He tried to pull you close but you wouldn’t allow him. He shook his head not understanding. 

“Why not? Why can’t we? We’re both adults. We can kiss who we like... and I like you.” Your heart fluttered when he said that and he pulled you towards him again. This time you didn’t fight it and let him. He leaned in to kiss you again and you pressed the tips of your fingers against his lips stopping him 

“I could lose my job Seungmin. I like you too, but adults or not, teachers aren’t supposed to get romantically involved with the students. It’s in our contract.” You explained the gravity of the situation plainly but you still didn’t try to escape his embrace again either. 

“Why do they need to know? We don’t have to tell them a damn thing. It's not like we have to formally announce a courtship. It’s as easy as you like me and I like you, so we keep it between me and you. Besides I graduate in a couple months. Is there anything in your contract about not dating alumni?” You were surprised to hear him use that word. 

“Dating?” You asked and Seungmin laughed a little nodding. 

“Yes. Dating. What did you think I was after?” You shook your head not sure if you should answer that. 

“I don’t know I guess... sex.” Seungmin cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“I mean... you’re drop dead gorgeous and I would love to have sex with you, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not a creep. It’s not all I’m after from you.” You stood there a moment mulling what he said over in your head. 

 “There isn’t.” You finally said. Seungmin tilted his head confused. 

“Anything about dating alum in my contract, there isn’t anything.” Seungmin smiled and started leaning in closer. 

“Sooooo....” He pulled the 90/10 move and stopped just in front of your face. You stared into his beautiful soft brown eyes still hesitant. Then some part of you, the part that was over the shitty day you had been having decided FUCK IT! You deserved for one damn thing to go your way today.  

You gripped the lapels of Seungmin’s bowling shirt and crashed your lips into his, kissing him hungrily. His hands cupped your face and he opened his mouth deepening the kiss. His tongue teased and danced with yours. He was a really good kisser.  

His hands found their way to your hips sliding down to your full ass, which he squeezed over your tight skirt. You threaded your fingers through his careless hair, your make out session heating up quickly. Seungmin backed you up against your desk and pressed his hips into yours. When he did you could feel his hard on press against you. You pulled back gasping for air. 

“Seungmin!” You said surprised. He laughed at your reaction. 

“What? I said it wasn’t all I was looking for but DID also say I would LOVE to fuck you didn’t I?” His words went straight to your pussy and you pressed your thighs together. Seungmin leaned in and started to kiss your neck and knead your ass with both hands as he pressed his growing erection against you harder.  

“I don’t think that’s exactly how you put it...” Your words came out breathy and Seungmin hummed as he sucked a mark on you just low enough for your collar to hide. He kissed your lips again. He was so passionate when he kissed you it made you light headed. Seungmin’s hands gripped at the sides of your skirt and started to inch the snug material up. You stopped him again. 

“This isn’t the best place to be doing this if we’re trying to not get caught Seungmin and I haven’t cancelled my afternoon classes yet, anyone could walk in at any time...” He kissed you silencing your concerns and then pulled away. 

“Well why don’t we make sure that doesn’t happen then Professor?” Another wave of arousal flooded your body hearing him call you that. Seungmin started slowly backing away from you and you instantly missed the warmth of his body against yours. 

“Send your email.” He nodded towards the laptop on your desk as he walked over to your classroom door. You leaned over your desk and opened your laptop as Seungmin pulled the privacy shade on the door down and locked it, then clicked off the lights. The two emergency lights that always stayed on were the only thing lighting the room now.  

First you sent an email to your boss about cancelling classes instead of calling, deciding you would take the ass chewing later then you pulled up your student email list. Seungmin came walking up behind you as you were bent over the desk typing. His hands gently gripped your shoulders and slid down your back before he grabbed on to your hips, leaning over you to push your hair aside and kiss the back of your neck. You smelled like heaven.  

When Seungmin leaned over you could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. He pulled the collar of your blouse down and grazed his teeth against the newly exposed skin on your shoulder. His hands ran back down your body and he gripped the tight fabric of your skirt, inching it up again. He was really making getting the email cancelling class typed very difficult. 

“Seungmin...” You protested as he started to suck on the fleshy part of your ear, gently tugging at it with his teeth, rutting against you. Your skirt was hiked up so high now that your thighs were exposed and your ass was barely covered. Seungmin reached around between your legs and started to rub your pussy over your panties. You jumped surprised. 

“Seungmin! If you don’t stop I’m never gonna get this composed and sent.” He laughed, his lips still pressed against your skin as he teased you more through your wet panties. 

“Sorry. You’re just so fucking sexy bent over a desk typing emails.” You laughed shaking your head. 

“Well try and contain yourself a moment please.” You went back to typing up the email as Seungmin continued to grope you from behind. 

“And if I don’t? Are you gonna send me to the office professor?” He asked playfully. You looked back at him and rolled your eyes. 

“No, but maybe I’ll get out the paddle and spank you.” Seungmin gripped your hips tight and groaned. 

“Don’t fucking tease me baby.” He started kissing and sucking on your neck again riled up by your words. Somehow you managed to get your email finished and sent. You closed your lap top and turned around still pinned to your desk by Seungmin.  

He kissed down your neck and chest lifting you onto your desk, trying to laying you back on your work. Your skirt was bunched almost all the way up, your legs wrapped around his slim body. You tried to speak but he kissed your lips so eagerly as he dry humped you, you had difficulty getting words out. 

“Seun- Seung- min n- n-ot here. m- my pap- papers m-my com- com-puter.” He pulled away breathless. 

“W-where?” You sat up, Seungmin still trapped between your legs. When you looked over his shoulder your eyes locked on your storage closet where you kept textbooks, extra supplies, art prints, and other various things. 

“In there. It locks. Extra layer of protection, just to be safe.” Seungmin kissed you and grabbed you by your hips, ready to drag you off the desk to the closet but your words reminded you of a very important question that popped into your head. You stopped him. 

“Wait. Speaking of protection... do you have a condom?” Seungmin froze like a deer in headlights. 

“Uh... no...” You raised your eyebrow at him.  

“You’re a college student and you don’t carry protection with you?” Seungmin raised his hands in defense. 

“I do when I think I’m getting laid! It’s not like I normally get lucky when I’m called to fix the outdated equipment around the school.” He had a valid point but still, he was kicking himself. Was he really about to give himself the worst case of blue balls because he didn’t just always keep a condom in his pocket?  

“You don’t maybe have one?” He asked hopeful. You sighed and shook your head at him incredulously. 

“Help me down.” You held out your hand and Seungmin helped you off your desk. You pulled your skirt back down and crouched, reaching under your desk. You pulled out your purse and rummaged around in the bag for a second before fishing out one of the condoms you had thrown in there when you went out with your friends the weekend before last. You stood up holding it between two fingers and handed it to him. 

“Here.” Seungmin grabbed the condom then grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you hard.  

“FUCKING THANK YOU!” You laughed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Seungmin stuck the condom in his pocket, grabbed both of your hands and started backing towards the closet, pulling you with him. 

“I should have said I didn’t have one and taught you a lesson.” Seungmin smirked at you. 

“I think we can come up with a much better lesson for you to teach me instead professor.” You bit your lip at the thought of all the lessons you’d love to teach him. Seungmin opened the door to the storage closet and held it, letting you walk in first, watching your plump ass in that tight fucking skirt. You grabbed the chain to the light that hung over head and pulled it, turning it on. Seungmin pulled the door closed and locked it. After he did, in the time it takes a humming bird’s wings to flap, he was on you.  

He kissed you and yanked up your skirt again as he backed you up against the wall. Once he had your skirt around your waist he reached into your panties and grabbed your ass with both hands squeezing. You moaned out into the kiss when he started grinding his hips into yours, rutting his hard on against your clothed cunt. 

Seungmin kissed and licked his way down your neck and chest until he reached the buttons of your blouse. His hands left your ass and before you knew what was happening, he gripped your blouse and ripped it open, sending buttons flying all over the closet, exposing your pretty lace bra that he’d gotten a decent glimpse of earlier. Now that your shirt was open he could make out your hard nipples through the sheer white lace and his mouth watered. 

“SEUNGMIN! WHAT THE FU-” He interrupted your complaint by kissing you as he grabbed both of your breasts over your bra and squeezed, pushing them together. He peppered kisses across the tops of your big breasts that couldn’t be contained by the dainty bra you had on. When he pulled away for a breath he apologized. 

“Shhh shh keep it down. I’m sorry! Sorry, I swear I’ll find every button and take it to my tailor to have them put back on. I just... fuck!” He growled into your neck before kissing his way down further, sucking another mark on the soft skin of one of your breasts. 

“That’s one of my favorite shirts damn it and I can’t just walk out of here topless Seungmin!” You scolded him. He shooshed you again, kissing you as he pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.  

“I’ll leave you my sweater, it’s fine, it’s fine.” He sweety kissed your cheek nuzzling against it, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he continued to grope your body. You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Every single fucking button Kim Seungmin!” Seungmin nodded smiling. 

“SWEAR! Every single one!” He started nibbling at your shoulder as he pulled the straps of your bra down. He slid it down your body and left it hanging around your waist along with your skirt that had been pushed up. He looked down at your exposed breasts and grabbed them both, squeezing and pushing them up and together. 

“You’ve got fucking PERFECT tits!” He squeeze one harder, leaned down and started sucking on your nipple before licking his way over to the other and sucking on it as well. You ran your fingers through his hair and gripped it tightly when he bit down on that nipple hard. 

“SssssSeungmin fuck!” Seungmin was ravenous. He played with your tits and kissed his way down your body until he was kneeling in front of you. He hooked his finger into the gusset of your wet panties, that were also white lace, and pulled them to the side, getting an up close view of your glistening cunt.  

“Fuck professor you have such a pretty pussy.” Seungmin ran his fingers through your wet slit, teasing you before parting your lips and licking through your folds. You gripped his hair and he took one second to pull away from you enough to take off his glasses and set them aside, then he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder and started licking your pussy like it was melty ice cream and your juices were dripping down the cone. 

“Oh my fucking god Seungmin.... yes...” You breathed out. He leaned back a second again, looking up at you as he stuck his ring and middle fingers into his mouth wetting them then pushing them into you. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started to suck on it harshly. You let go of his hair and slapped both your hands over your mouth trying to keep it down. He hummed and growled and shook his head between your legs, aggressively eating your cunt as he finger fucked you open. You pulled your hands far enough away from your face to speak. 

“I’m... gonna... cum.” The words came out as gasps. Seungmin stopped eating you out and stood up. He pushed his fingers into your pussy deep, his hand flush with your body, his palm pressed against your clit, his other two fingers pushing against your asshole roughly as he kept fucking you with his fingers hard, using his whole hand to push them deeper. He didn’t pull out, just finger fucked you deeper and deeper, the sound his hand fapping against your sloppy wet pussy filling the closet as your tight cunt sucked in Seungmin’s fingers.  

When your orgasm hit you your eyes rolled back in your head. You gripped the wrist of his hand that was finger fucking you and slapped your other hand over your mouth and nose. You threw your head back and choked out a muffled scream into your hand as you came. Seungmin didn’t stop pumping his fingers into your cunt. He kept going, deep and hard prolonging your orgasm.  

He fingered you through your climax as your juices ran from you, coating the insides of your thighs. Seungmin pulled his fingers out and licked your cum from them. You rested your head against the wall as you were trying to recover from the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just given you. 

“Come here.” He pushed your stray hairs away from your face, cupping it with both hands and kissing you deeply. You kissed him back tasting yourself on his lips. He pressed you firmly against the wall, his hips grinding into yours. You could feel his hard clothed cock press into your sensitive pussy. You put your hands against his chest and gently pushed making him take a step back then, placing your hands on his shoulders you led him to turn so his back was against the wall now. 

“Your turn.” You said seductively. You ran your hands under his button up pushing it and his sweater off his shoulders and onto the floor. Seungmin kicked them aside. You started working at the button and zipper of his pants and he whipped off his t-shirt quickly as you did. You reached into his pants and underwear and kissed him as your soft hand palmed his throbbing cock. 

“You’re so hard baby.” You pulled your hand out and spit in it then reached back into Seungmin’s pants and wrapped your fingers around his shaft. You kissed him again as you started jacking him off. Every now and then he would let out a breathy moan into your mouth as you messily made out and stroked his cock faster.  

You stopped and pulled your hand out of his pants before threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of Seungmin’s neck. You gave him one more good long kiss then started tracing your fingertips down his soft skin as you got on your knees in front of him.  

His dick twitched in his pants seeing you look up at him like that. You grabbed the waist band of his pants and briefs with both hands and slid them down his legs. When you got a look at what he’d been hiding in his pants you were pleasantly surprised. You knew he wouldn’t be small, feeling it pressed against you, but you didn’t expect that. Seungmin might have had a thin frame but what he lacked in physic he made up for in cock. He was fucking big! 

“Wow, so fucking big and pretty too.” You spit on it and jerked him off a little spreading your spit along his shaft, getting it good and wet to try and make it easier to take into your mouth. 

“T-thank you professor.” You gripped his cock firmly with one hand and braced against his hip with the other then wrapped your lips around the tip of his dick, gently sucking on it. Seungmin hissed. 

“Sssfuck yes, suck on it beautiful.” You started bobbing your head taking more of him each time then sucked hard as you pulled off. You spit on his cock again and started stroking him fast before putting him back in your mouth, moving up and down his dick. You took him deep, gagged and pulled off, your spit stringing from your lips and his cock. 

“That felt so fucking good baby, can you do more?” You wiped the spit off your chin. Seungmin ran his fingers through your hair moving it away from your face so he could see better as you tried. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged again pulling away. You took a deep breath and put him back into your mouth.  

You gagged on him again but this time you didn’t pull away, instead you bobbed your head and started fucking your own throat with Seungmin’s big dick. His grip on your hair tightened. He closed his eyes and threw his head back moaning, enjoying the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock, your throat tightening around his tip every time it hit the back. You pulled away taking a big gasping breath and jacked him off with both hands. 

“Your so fucking good at that professor, teach me how good you suck cock baby.” You spit on his dick and started blowing him again. To say that you were enthusiastic would be an understatement. You would suck on him hard then deep throat him and gag before bobbing up and down his cock and doing it all over again. Seungmin fisted your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head and gently started thrusting into your mouth.  

“Ohhhhh fuck yes like that baby yes.” You braced your hands on Seungmin’s hips again so he didn’t go too deep, letting him thrust into your mouth and fuck your face. 

“Look up at me let me see your pretty face while I fuck it.” You looked up at Seungmin and watched the look on his face as he continued thrusting into your mouth. 

“God you are so fucking pretty like that!” Seungmin pulled out and helped you up off your knees. He grabbed the condom you gave him from his pants on the floor and tore open the foil packet. He took it out pinched the tip and rolled it down his thick cock. Seungmin grabbed you by your skirt pulling you close and kissed you. 

“Take off your panties, turn around and bend over for me beautiful.” You made quick work of your underwear, tossing them and then put your hands against the wall bracing yourself as you spread your legs and bent over, exposing your creamy pussy from the back. 

“Look at that. My professor has such a pretty fucking pussy. So wet for me.” Seungmin ran his fingers up and down your slit spreading your slick. He got behind you and lined up his cock with your pussy, rubbing his tip through your folds teasing you a little.  

You arched your back and stuck your ass out more. Seungmin had no intentions on actually teasing you. He ran a hand over the swell of your ass and gripped your hip then he pressed his tip against your hole and slowly sank into you. When his big dick slipped into you, you let out a little whine. 

“Doing so good for me gorgeous, so fucking pretty with my big cock inside you.” He pushed in deeper and this time your whine turned into a choked moan. 

“So good so good, just a little more baby, almost there.” He praised you. You pressed your hands into the wall nodding and Seungmin pushed the last of his length into you. 

“FFFFFfffuckuhhh...” You bit your lip and stifled your moan.  

“BIG fucking cock! God damn...” Was all you could manage to say. Seungmin leaned over you and you could feel his thick cock move inside you. He grabbed one of your big tits and played with it as he reached between your legs and teased your clit while you got adjusted to having him inside you. After a minute he pulled out and gave you a deep thrust. 

“Seungmin!” One of your hands flew to your mouth, the other still holding you up against the wall. 

“Shhh... I know. Feels good?” You nodded not willing to risk moving your hand from your mouth just yet. Seungmin’s big cock started sliding in and out of you slowly as he continued playing with one of your breasts and your clit. Once he got going good he pulled you upright from the wall. His chest pressed up against your back. His cock was buried even deeper inside your cunt in this position. He wrapped his arms around your perfect body gripping on to one of your tits again as he reached back between your legs to continue playing with your pussy. You shoved your fist into your mouth to keep quiet as he gave you his cock deep in this position, rolling his hips, grinding against you more than thrusting. 

“Want you to cum on my cock, wanna feel your legs shaking you cum so hard on my big fucking dick. You can do it, cum for me professor.” Seungmin played with your clit more and his thrusts got harder. You pulled your fist from your mouth. 

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard Seungmin don’t stop fucking me deep like that. I’m gonna cum...” You were panting and moaning. He stopped playing with your clit gripping and squeezing both of your breasts now. Your back was completely flush against Seungmin’s chest as he gave it to your hard and deep from the back.  

You braced against the wall with one hand pushing yourself back onto him as he fucked into you as if he could go any deeper. You could feel your impending orgasm approaching and you reached back with your free hand gripping the hair at Seungmin’s nape tightly as you came hard on his cock. 

“FFFUUSEUN-” You started to scream out, unable to control the level of your voice and one of Seungmin’s big hands left one of your tits and clamped over your mouth as he fucked you harder through your orgasm.  

“Shhh shhh shh don’t want anyone to hear you creaming all over my big cock in this closet professor.” Your eyes rolled back and you kept screaming into his hand as your juices dripped down your legs and Seungmin’s cock. He kept railing you deep until your pussy stopped convulsing around his cock and your legs started shaking making your knees give out. Seungmin moved his hand away from your mouth so you could breathe easier. He stopped thrusting and helped hold you up as your legs wobbled like Bambi on ice, his dick still buried balls deep inside you. You were panting absolutely out of breath, stray hairs sticking to your red, sweaty face.  

Seungmin helped you brace yourself against the wall so you didn’t just collapse when he let go then pulled his cock out of you. You laid against the wall, your face resting on its cool surface. Seungmin gently gripped your elbow making you turn to face him. When you did you leaned against the wall again, head back, eyes closed, still working on catching your breath.  

“You okay?” You nodded as Seungmin pushed the sweaty strands of hair away from your face. 

“I-I’m good, t-that that was FUCKING amazing!” Seungmin laughed a little before leaning in to kiss you. 

“I’m very glad you thought so professor, does that mean I get a passing grade.” You laughed breathless. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life! A++ and I’m granting you bonus points for your EXCELENT oral exam. Consider yourself teacher’s pet!” Seungmin caged you in his arms against the wall and kissed you. 

“Yea? What does teacher’s pet get for getting such good marks?” You opened your eyes and looked at him smiling. 

“What does he want?” Seungmin grabbed your breasts with both hands again, squishing and squeezing, pushing them up and together before toying with your nipples then doing it all again as if they were his new favorite toy. 

“I wanna fuck these and cum all over them.” He said pushing your tits together harder.  

“Yea? That’s what you want?” Seungmin nodded eagerly licking his lips. 

“FUCK yes! I would kill to fuck these big perfect tits and cover them in my cum. Can I? Please?” You didn’t see why not. You nodded. 

“Fucking really!?” He’d only been imagining fucking your tits since meeting you practically. 

“Yea want you to cum all over my tits Seungmin.” He almost jumped for joy. He looked around the storage closet really quick and saw a wooden desk chair. He grabbed it and dragged it over for you to sit on. You sat your ass down on the cool wooden seat and Seungmin stood in front of you. He pulled the condom off and set it aside to throw away later. He gripped his cock and stroked it a few times.  

You tilted your head down and let a big wad of spit drip from your mouth down the valley of your breasts. Seungmin immediately started smearing it up and down with the tip of his dick, getting the space between your tits slippery and wet.  

He pressed his cock against your sternum and you pushed your tits up around his shaft. He started thrusting slowly, the tip of his dick disappearing between your breasts then popping back up, getting redder each time. Seungmin leaned over, spit on his tip and started fucking your big tits faster. He was breathless and panting ass he humped your chest. 

“So good, so fucking good, perfect fucking titties, big and soft, squeeze my cock just right, fucking perfect. Squeeze them tighter please please tighter baby.” He started getting more excited and fucked your tits faster. You spit on your tits and squeezed them together tighter for him like he asked. You tilted your head down and stuck out your tongue so that when the tip of Seungmin’s cock peeked out from between your breasts you could lick it. 

“Oh my fucking god! Yes lick it! Push your tits together harder. Fuck!” You pushed them together more. Seungmin spit on your tits again and held onto your shoulders as he fucked your big tits faster, his cock making a wet squelching sound every thrust. He had trouble keeping his rhythm as his climax approached. 

“I’m gonna cum, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” He fucked your big tits faster and started to cum. You kept your breasts squeezed around his cock tightly as he did. Seungmin’s thrusts slowed down as streaks of his cum shot across your chest and neck pooling around his cock trapped between your tits.  

He gave a few more slow thrusts, working all of his cum out, riding the last of his orgasm, enjoying the slippery feeling of smearing his cum between your tits. You let go of your breasts and Seungmin took a step back. He enjoyed the sight of his big load dripping down your chest and smeared all over your tits as he tried to catch his breath. You tsked him. 

“Well you made a mess.” You playfully scolded him. He huffed out a laugh as he continued to catch his breath post nut. 

“Sorry about that professor.” He winked at you smiling then looked around and found his t-shirt. He grabbed it and started wiping his cum off your chest and breasts with it. After he got you cleaned up as best he could you both searched around for your scattered articles of clothing.  

Seungmin slipped into his underwear and pants then helped you pull your tight skirt back down. You pulled your bra up stuffing your big breasts back into the lacey cups and fixing the straps on your shoulders. Seungmin found his blue button up shirt and his sweater then separated them, putting on the blue shirt and buttoning it up.  

After, he grabbed the sweater holding it open so you could put it on. You turned around and he buttoned it up for you as well. Seungmin thought you looked really fucking cute in his clothes. You started searching around the closet again. 

“What are you looking for?” You lifted your exploded blouse looking under it. 

“My panties.” Seungmin smirked reaching into his pants pocket, pulling them out and revealing them. 

“Oh you mean these?” He twirled them around on his finger and when you tried to snatch them away he gripped them tightly in his fist and held them up out of your reach. 

“Aht aht! I think I earned these professor.” He put them to his face and sniffed them. You tried to snatch them from him again unsuccessfully. 

“Give me my panties Seungmin.” You said sternly. 

“Or what? Are you going to give me detention?” He stuffed them back into his pocket laughing. You picked up your blouse and threw it at his face.  

“Fine keep them but you still have to find all my buttons and fix my fucking shirt!” Seungmin pulled you close wrapping his arms around you giving you a big wet kiss on the cheek. You pushed at his chest feigning irritation although the smile on your face was a dead giveaway he was already forgiven. He squeezed you tightly. 

“Whatever you say professor.” 

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow . L-U-X.”

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”