#just flaunts the fuck out of their relationship as much as he can and as much as charon will let him

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ daddy playlist (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life

tw : fluff; chaos, VERY SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : this was requested anonymously by an anon! I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norriz, albono, georgey and 78 others

babyn daddy's home chauffeuring these Lil girls

view comments

lordperceval wtf are you driving a Mercedes !?

lordperceval haven't I bought like 10 ferrari's for you ?

lordperceval even Lewis is leaving Mercedes

babyn calm down, brother dearest, it's georgey's

georgey shame on all of you for catfishing in my car

albono I AS WELL also own a Mercedes 🙏

albono norris, you better be careful in track, the fuck are you sending my ugliest pictures on the net

norizz oh come on, if you are ugly, you are going to be ugly

max1 and not like you don't crash every now and then

colawithice it's the Williams' fault

chillijr that's why I am replacing you

colawithice and that's why I am replacing checko ✅

babyn YOU ARE GOING TO REDBULL!?

babyn OH MY GOD

babyn REDBULL WILL HAVE MILFS

babyn BOTH OF THE DRIVERS ARE DATING MILFS

norizz or they just have mummy issues

max1 and you have height issues

colawithice height does not matter, it's the girth

hamsandwich it's the looks 💪🏻

georgey why do you follow yn?

babyn WHY WONT HE!?

kikagnome the whole grid follows her

babyn except the drivers without talent and daddy issues

peirreneedsgas then why is Lando following you ?

norriz mate, last time I checked, I WAS THE ONE COMPETING FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP

babyn and it was all too much for little Lando Norris

pastry we still are winning then constructors💪🏻

chillijr Ferrari will cover up

babyn only if they pass the radio in spanish from now on

georgey 😶

albono 😶

pastry 😶

lilyhye 😶

babyn LILY WHY WERE YOU OFFLINE

carmenvroom 😶

liked by lilyhye, kikagnome, alexmieux and 104 others

babyn the only man I would ever spread my legs for -

view comments

lordperceval you are not getting out of my sight anymore

lordperceval dare you leave the Ferrari garage

babyn I will go the McLaren garage

pastry oh fuck no, BIANCA IS NOT THERE FOR EVERY RACE

babyn 😔

max1 I will join you

babyn turning people gay since 01 💪🏻

babyn but before, give me Kelly

max1 you can very much take toto, thank you

kikagnome yn, babe stick to one person yeah ?

babyn stop flaunting your relationship with pierre

pierreneedsgas SHE DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING !

babyn your existence is enough

kikagnome why do I have you as my best friend again ?

babyn idk, sounds like a you problem

liked by norizz, kikagnome and 84 others

babyn SHE FUCKING LOOKED AT ME !?

view comments

norizz was it necessary to use me ?

babyn well yes, you are confused everytime

max1 thank God you will stay off Kelly now

babyn NEVER FROM MY FAV MILF

ollibear Bianca gave me her number

babyn TO YOU !?

olliebear what's so surprising ?

babyn YOU ARE WHITE AND YOUNG AND WELL A KID

olliebear YOU ARE WHITE TOO !?

babyn I AM MONEGASQUE

kingarthur sorry ollie, she failed her middle school

norizz she just looked

babyn itz the start of our marriage book, I have already made like 10 playlists

colawithice tell me you're gay without telling me you are gay

babyn you are LaTiNa

colawithice I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU

lordperceval every week, you tell me some other girl is going to my sister in law

babyn I WANT TO BECOME A WAG

kikagnomes ITS FRIENDSHIP GOALS CHARLES

pierreneedsgas wait what

babyn calm down french fry, you both only met because of me

hamsandwich please don't, we don't need another person on the grid with an age gap

chillijr I think being in the f1 world has a mandatory check of having an age gap relationship

albono ME AND LILY are very happy 😊

georgey so are we Carlos

rebecamour Carlos, I AM ONLY ELDER TO YOU BY ONE YEAR

chillijr I didn't mean it about us !!

rebecamour Aren't you an f1 driver !?

babyn he is not, he is unemployed

chillijr I am!! But we love each other and Y/N, STOP

babyn no one tells me to stop, I LOVE BEING IN COMMAND

chillijr Charles, control your sister

lordperceval Arthur, please do

kingarthur only maman can

hamsandwich well you could show this account to her ?

babyn ALL GOOD

babyn NO NEED

babyn I AM GAY AND HAPPY

babyn NOT SHARING ANYMORE

lordperceval I love maman

kingarthur so do I 😊

liked by pierreneedgas, kikagnome and 92 others

babyn Kika, the first girl who I fell in love with, the girl who taught me how to wear heels, the girl who taught me how to make my boobs look big ( you kind of catfished pierre..?) and girl who has been with me since we were thirteen. happy 21 my love 😗😗

view comments

kikagnomes finally I get some appreciation 🫶🏻😊

pierreneedsgas the only post I ever liked on this account

babyn says the man who got catfished

kikagnomes I AM NOT THAT FLAT

babyn OH PLEASE

kikagnomes WELL I HAVE A BOYFRIEND

babyn who will gladly lick the plate

kikagnomes PLATE !?

norizz this is the first time I have seen boobs being compared to plates

pierreneedsgas shut up norris

kikagnomes shut up lando !!

babyn love let's just continue on the gc ?

kikagnomes yes, I need to debrief as well !

pierreneedsgas debrief what ?

babyn how you only last like 3 rounds !?

pierreneedsgas HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW !? FRANSISCA !?

lordperceval 3 rounds is impressive !!

babyn not for an athlete

kingarthur sister, what more do you expect from a human ?

babyn like minimum 5 rounds ?

max1 Y/N, this is not a formula 1 race where you go for rounds with pitstops

babyn y'all are just old

hamsandwich it's not about being old !!!

babyn forgot there were 40 year olds who can't even do one round

colawithice you women don't know how hard is it to keep the hip movements going

georgey EXACLTY, WE HAVE MORE FLEXIBLE HIPS THAN SHAKIRA

carmenvroom ....

lordoerceval the silence says a lot more my mate

babyn Colapinto beans, I am more dominant in bed than you are begging to be rode

lordperceval EVERYONE TAKE THIS ON YOUR CHATS, Y/N, SISTER I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR SEX LIFE

babyn also Charles, work on your stamina mate, can't even go 2 rounds without panting

lordoerceval !? ALEXANDRA !?

alexmieux ... yn, love meet me NOW

liked by kikagnome, norriz, colawithice and 134 others

babyn when mom asks what me and that girl are going to do on a sleepover

view comments

norriz at this point, you should sign up this account for onlyfans

lordperceval Lando, stop giving my BABY SISTER such ideas

babyn what makes you think I am not already there

kingarthur excuse me !?

babyn don't worry, I just sell your feet pics 😺😊

lordperceval the best investment from my money would be getting you a psychiatrist

colawithice give me some tongue tips

babyn milf not getting satisfied ?

colawithice you wish

chillijr telling your mom for future sleepovers

babyn telling reb about your Italy escapade

rebecamour Italy what !?

babyn nothing 🤭

rebecamour Carlos !?!?

chillijr nothing my love, she is just joking

chilijr STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FIGHT WITH HER !

babyn sorry, I just thought you liked mariella

rebecamour MARIELLA !?

norizz just informing that Carlos won't be online for some time because I saw him run after her in the paddock

pastry why are you so mean yn ?

lilyhye Mena in What?

lilyhye exposing an affair !?

alexmieux as she should !?

babyn loves, there was no affair

kikagnomes you nasty -

lilyhye those are some damn long fingers ...

babyn someone just expressed their desire @ albono

albono thank you very much and I can work on it without your interference

lordperceval why in the world have you put me there !?

babyn Alex is lucky you know ?

lordperceval what did mom even eat before giving birth to you !?

babyn dad

kingarthur Y/N !!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

LOVED the sit down fics. Please consider: US telling THEM to sit down. What are they going to do? Argue and sleep on the couch? (Love your works!! Always makes my day when I see a new one)

AHHHHHHHHH! ANON OMG! I love this. I giggled and kicked my feet the entire time I was working on these. I had so much fun jumping back into the Imagines Series after Kinktober with this prompt. While I'm still working through the 3.5k Spooky Bingo event, I am returning to my usual content.

For those curious, THIS is the fic that Anon is referring to.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, flirting, arguments, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“John. We have to talk about this.”

“We are talking.”

“No. We’re arguing. And you’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening, love.”

“Then what did I just say?” you ask, exasperated.

John opens his mouth and then pauses. He loses steam, the gears turning as he realizes he’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and then holds up his hands. “If I’m being honest, love—”

“Fuck. Sit down, John.”

Your tone is sharp, and John drops into a chair, completely silent, his gaze locked in on you.

“If you are not going to listen to me, then I’m ending this discussion. We can come back to this later. When we’re calm.”

John is always the steady one. He’s your rock, but for whatever reason, this one discussion has transformed into an argument.

There is silence after, and you have no idea what John thinks of your sudden authoritative demeanor. His face is blank, and then his mouth turns up into an amused smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

John relaxes into the chair, spreading his thighs wide in invitation. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry, love.”

“Don’t distract me, John,” you mutter, the irritation beginning to melt away.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"We're having this out," says Kyle, grabbing your upper arm. He tugs you against him, head tipping forward in an intimate gesture.

"I don't want to argue with you," you reply.

"And I'm not done." His tone is calm but firm. Whenever Kyle sets his mind to something, it can be difficult for him to change course.

"Well, I am." Kyle's hold on your upper arm tightens a bit. It's not painful, but he draws you closer. "Now, sit down."

"Wha—"

"Sit. Down."

Kyle draws back, startled. His hold loosens and descends to grasp your wrist as he sinks onto the sofa. You rarely assert yourself, but you're frustrated with him.

“I am done fighting about this. Either we find a compromise, or we end this discussion.” Kyle breathes deep, his gaze intense as you continue. “You can sleep out here if you won’t budge.”

“I sleep beside you,” replies Kyle.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me around.”

Kyle’s hand on your wrist softens, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm. It makes you shiver, and Kyle pulls you closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice soothing.

"Can we talk now? No fighting?"

"No fighting," he agrees.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Irritation bubbles under your skin, creating a buzzing sensation that puts you on edge. You and Simon rarely fight but the two of you always circle back to the same issue.

“I’m sick of talking in circles. We have to figure this out.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitches. “I’ve already told you how I feel about it,” he says.

“I understand but we have to find a compromise.”

“I’m not willing to budge on this.”

“Simon—"

He pushes in, invading your space. “You’re the one that’s undecided.”

You hate being bossed around, and you hate it more when Simon flaunts his dominance during a disagreement.

“Sit down,” you growl.

Simon blinks, startled. “What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Simon’s gaze narrows, the middle of his brow creasing. But he sits, settling on the sofa.

“I understand how you feel but I need you to listen to how I’m feeling. This is a big decision, and I want us to talk through things. I’m not just going to bend over and take it.”

“But you like it when I bend you over.”

“Simon Riley!”

Simon smirks “Need to let out a little steam?”

“Yes,” you mutter, flustered. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Arguments with Johnny almost always end in sex.

He’ll use his tongue, his fingers, and then eventually his dick until you’re blissfully fucked out of your head.

“You are not distracting me,” you say sharply as Johnny moves in, a sly smile on his face.

His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know if you don’t get a handle on this now, you’ll be face down in the bed with ass in the air in moments. It’s Johnny’s favorite position.

Placing your hands on Johnny’s chest, you give him a bit of a shove, creating space. “Sit down, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise suggestively. With a sauntering sway, Johnny sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. They hang dangerously low on his hips.

You cover your eyes. “We need to have a conversation that doesn’t end in sex.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mutter.

“I like it when you boss me around.” You can feel his heat just before his arms slide around you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, pushing at his chest. “Sit down.”

Johnny teasingly nips at your neck. “Only if you sit in my lap.”

taglist:

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

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@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[bokunoheros]

ཐིཋྀ KINKTOBER DAY 9 - virginity loss : izuku midoriya

warnings : virginity loss (izuku), afab reader, mentions of body counts, non-relationship hookup (but deku has a thing for reader), reader calls izuku “izu”, oral sex (izuku receiving), reader has decent sized boobs, cliffhanger kind of

word count : 840

🐙 note : none

it wasn't really surprising that izuku was a virgin, hell i’m sure anyone could’ve guessed that much. the conversation took a weird turn when discussing izuku’s fated rival; katsuki bakugo. izuku explained that katsuki is a well known bragger who loves to flaunt his body count, he constantly expresses how izuku will never catch up to him and how because the boy has no experience no girl will ever want to sleep with him.

“well… do you wanna have sex with me?”

the question stuns izuku, turning him bright red and causing him to panic, he asks if you’re sure and mumbles about how there’s no way someone like you would ever wanna sleep with someone like him! he continues to go on a ramble about how you’re just so cool and pretty and your quirk is amazing and, and, and–

you stop and put your hands on izuku’s shoulders, he freezes and stares with a blank expression.

“we can have sex izuku, i don’t mind teaching you.”

izuku feels a mix of many emotions; pride, worry, confusion, just to name a few. slowly you drag izuku by the hand into your bed, gently laying him down and getting on top of him.

“don’t worry deku, just relax.”

“o-okay! i’ll do my best!”

you almost laugh at the poor guy, as optimistic as ever. you find yourself somewhat shocked at the way midoriya feels beneath you, despite being on the shorter side he was far from a twig; you could feel his solid abs and thick thigh muscles.

“have you ever had your dick sucked izu?”

“umm… no?”

“do you want me to?”

izuku nods enthusiastically, you get off his lap and lower yourself towards his thighs. carefully you settle between them, looking up at him with eager eyes that causes him to go red all over. you gently remove his basketball shorts and are met with his bare thighs and black boxers, you unexpectedly gawk at him, surprised by his muscle and pretty good size. pulling off his boxers you find that he’s about 5.7 inches, thick and red from embarrassment.

you look up to him for approval and he sends you a thumbs up, you giggle at his dorky behaviors. you lightly grab his length and izuku’s breath catches in his throat. keeping eye contact with him you slowly lick up his side and kiss his pretty pink tip, izuku shutters at the feeling and finds himself struggling not to make noise.

“you can make noise y’know, you have a cute voice.”

midoriya can hardly think, the feeling of your warm hand and breath by his cock too much for him to handle. he simply hums at your words and tells you he’s okay, you smile at him and continue to give his cock attention.

you swirl your tongue around his tip, using your hand to massage his extended length. taking his tip into your mouth you suck lightly and izuku swears he could see stars, he wonders if kacchan feels this good when he gets head. suddenly his thoughts get interrupted when you take the whole of him into your mouth, he gasps, unable to contain himself he brings his hand to your head and tugs on your hair making you moan onto his cock. izuku is whimpering and thrashing about, so much so that it’s affecting your ability to properly suck him off.

“izu, stop moving so much.” you manage to get out with your mouth still surrounding his cock.

with his eyes closed and head back he lets out a strained “uh-huh” and bucks his hips into your mouth, you moan at his length and he can’t help himself from doing it again.

“i’m sorry-sorry it feels–sososo good”

now izuku is practically face fucking you, albeit gently, he’s thrusting into your mouth and tugging lightly on your hair. you look up and find him absolutely lost, one hand on his abs and his mouth wide open, gasping and panting for air.

“ah! feels-feels funny, is this s-supposed to happen?”

you hum around his dick and he continues to push himself onto your tongue, you move your tongue up and down on him to encourage him closer to the edge.

eventually you feel a warm and thick substance invading your mouth, letting you know he came. izuku is panting and groaning, trying to catch his breath. he immediately lets go of your hair and rambles continuous apologizes, you have to force your mouth into his in order to get him to shut up.

he melts into the kiss, slightly unsure of quite how to kiss. his hands remain at his sides, too scared to touch you, unsure of where his hands should be.

you break the kiss and grab his hands, moving them onto your waist and breasts. izuku seems hesitant but eventually squeezes the areas softly. he’s kind of surprised, your skin was so soft and warm and your boobs were so squishy and bouncy.

“do you think you can go for more?”

[onlyswan]

i’m back to give you my iw!couple brain rot 🤲, please handle with care.

but !! imagine jungkook and oc doing that “see how long we can go without kissing” challenge !! how would fold first? they’re both so competitive but smitten it makes me conflicted. 😣😣

knowing them, jungkook would be twitching his eye just from the thought of being deprived kissies so would oc give in first to let him win? or would jungkook just take what’s his?? 🤔

imagine oc being a blushing mess from staring at jungkook’s face for too long 😵‍💫 THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT THINK STRAIGHT😭🫶

summary: in which jungkook is twenty-six years old and yet… you still give him butterflies.

idol!jk x reader, established relationship / word count: 0.7k

content/warnings: sexual tension, making out, it’s honestly just them fighting over who gets to be on top

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe hi anonie… sorry… i kindaaa got carried away… i had to write out the thing or else i would’ve gone insane just talking about it <3 (written with love and care) <3

—

“i don’t understand this challenge.”

“me neither,”

jungkook remains in a hypnotic-like trance, doe eyes trained to your lips stained with a lighter shade of mixed red and brown.

“we’re this close and we can’t kiss…? this is absurd.”

“do they actually do this in bed? with someone on top?” you chuckle as you coyly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “i don’t think so?”

“i don’t know. i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he teasingly brushes his nose against yours, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended. “since, you know, we’ll be here a while.”

“oh wow. bringing me to bed, really? you’re that confident?”

he cockily raises an eyebrow. “hm, we both know you won’t be able to resist me here. you’re all over me all the time.”

you try not to roll your eyes in annoyance. and you also both know that you’re just as competitive, if not more.

“oh my god, you,” you mumble. the calm of your voice contrasts the aggressive push of your hand against your boyfriend’s naked chest. “and your stupid arrogance and your stupid need to flaunt your stupid hot body.”

in the blink of an eye, jungkook finds you stradding him, and himself, trapped underneath your body. he blinks in disbelief, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“this is dirty.”

you remove his glasses, moving it aside without care. “that’s just your mind.”

okay, perhaps bringing you to bed was a bad idea.

you lean down, slowly, close and then closer— it’s quite ridiculous that he’s nervous as if he doesn’t know what is bound to happen next: he’s thoroughly convinced that you’re going to kiss him.

once he feels your lips ghost over his, mere millimeters away, his eyelids flutter shut.

terrible idea. terrible.

the kiss, much to his disappointment, never happens.

he opens his eyes and your face is suddenly tucked in the space between his neck and shoulders, giggling and shaking and positively amused.

he turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. a painful admit of defeat against your infinite allure. “ah, i’m fucked.”

“we’ll get there later,” you lift your head, tilting his chin to face you.

you smile and scoot closer. so close that your bottom lips grazes his. he fails to remember the last time the two of you touched as chastely, as softly, but it felt like accidentally touching a live wire. he gets a funny feeling in his stomach. butterflies…? he’s twenty-six years old. he must be losing his mind.

“after you lose.”

“that’s not happening, baby.”

“yes, it will.”

“i won’t give up so easily.”

you give him an innocent look. “but i really think you will.”

you stare at each other for a little while, anticipating the other’s next move.

“fuck- yeah, okay-” he grits his teeth, taking advantage of his strength to finally flip back your positions. you’ve had your fun. “you’re right.”

“babe! ru-”

your surprised gasp is cut off by jungkook’s lips crashing on yours— curved into a smirk, you can feel it. your whines are muffled and swallowed by him, wrists caught in his hands and over your head because you were hitting his shoulder and he just wanted to kiss his baby properly.

“you lost,” you remark quietly when he draws back, only inches away, to scatter kisses along your face and down to your neck.

it tickles, you squirm in pleasure when he reaches near your collarbone, but your hands are still tied.

you were supposed to have him underneath you as a hot and flustered mess, not the other way around. damn it.

“really?” he feigns interest, lips finding their way back to yours. “doesn’t feel like it.”

[ynsbarbbb]

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Bend & Break - C.SC

🥺Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🥺What: coworkers. friends to fuckers. smut. 🥺Wordcount: 10k 🥺Warnings: Profanity. Sex toys. Dom!reader. Sub!Seungcheol. Petnames from reader to Cheol(baby, sweetheart, little one, good boy, babyboy). Kink discussion. Safeword discussion. Teasing. Fingering by reader to self. Cheol licks/sucks a dildo. He's very needy and desperate <3. Edging(Cheol receiving). Begging(Cheol). Cheol cries(from pleasure dw). Reader just wants to ruin Seungcheol and that's so relatable. Sort of ambigious ending I guess in regards to the future of their relationship.

Summary; You've recently been hired due to the sunshine personality you showed for an interview, purely with the intention of the company pairing you up with Seungcheol to counteract his grumpy attitude around the office. Nobody realises it's just a work persona of yours and when someone does, it's none other than Choi Seungcheol himself.

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this story would've never happened if the wonderful @bitchlessdino hadn't taken pity on me and my empty brain and slid an idea over to me. And letting me run wild and turn it into a sub cheol smut. Thank you so much for screaming about this with me, sweetheart <3

Edited: 21/12/24

Being the new hire anywhere isn't ever really a thrilling experience for anyone. Being the new hire mostly because of the fake persona you showed at the interview is even worse. Because now, you have to keep acting like the bubbly, happy-go-lucky person you had pretended to be two months ago.

Still, the pay is good, the hours aren't gruelling and although you're part of a dozen-strong team, you share a comfortable little office with only one other person, so you figure it's not the worst trade-off.

Though you still haven't yet decided if your work partner is reason enough to change your mind about that.

Choi Seungcheol is the very reason you were hired; to counteract his frankly miserable attitude around the office. Not that he much leaves your shared office, but when he does he's likely to be glaring at whoever is making the most noise, or simply asking him a question that isn't entirely necessary.

He has the world's most severe case of resting bitch face too, which regularly causes issues with clients. So you were hired to be the pep in client meetings and steer things in the correct direction when Seungcheol is seconds from saying something that could risk the contract, or a trip to HR.

Seungcheol isn't the type to fake interest in the personal lives of clients or colleagues; he's just here to work. And honestly, you respect that a hell of a lot. But it also means you shoulder all the small talk and have to look at pictures of people's pets, kids, and holidays that you really could not give less shits about.

And all of that means that although Seungcheol is a hard worker and you're beyond happy to have a competent partner at your side, he is one of the main reasons for your rising stress levels. Just once you'd like to not have to be the smiling balm to soothe the sting of his harsh demeanour and blunt words.

Alas, Seungcheol is not going to change his ways, especially when he doesn't know that you could really do with him pulling his weight in the charm department.

Which is made very apparent on one particular day with a new client who seems to consistently bump heads with Seungcheol.

The meeting is an hour of Seungcheol's nastiest bitch face and the client's obnoxious attitude flaunting the “customer is always right” motto the company stupidly prides itself on. You want to tell the client to go fuck himself on more than one occasion throughout the meeting, but you can't seeing as you'd like to be able to keep receiving a pay check.

As soon as the meeting is over, Seungcheol is out of there, no doubt halfway back to your shared office before you can even exit the little conference room thanks to the client deciding that “you just have to visit the resort I vacationed in. Here, let me show you the site”. So you're stuck pretending to be interested in the fancy foreign resort that the client shows you on his phone for the next handful of minutes before you can finally leave.

After all that you really need a break, so instead of going straight back to your office you walk straight past it and to the supply room for your floor.

Once inside the small room of shelving units full of various office supplies, you just stand there, eyes squeezed closed and hands tight on your hips while you focus on trying to calm yourself down with some deep breathing.

You're so focused that you don't hear the door open a few minutes later. The gentle tap of shoes on the hard flooring has your eyes snapping open and over to where Seungcheol, of all people, is standing with one hand raised to grab a new packet of printer paper, but his attention is entirely on you. He looks bewildered; one eyebrow raised and the other scrunched a little with his head tilted slightly.

You immediately slap on your usual bright smile, entirely fake but nobody has ever noticed that before, and grab a new, empty folder from the shelf near you. “I didn't know we need new paper already, I would've grabbed it myself if I knew,” you chirp, already walking towards the exit but the room isn't wide enough for there to be enough space around Seungcheol for you to just breeze on by like you want to. And he doesn't step aside either.

“Well, guess everyone's favourite isn't all sunshine and rainbows after all,” he replies with a smug smirk. “I wonder how everyone will react to knowing the truth about you.

“I don't know what you mean, Seungcheol.” You smile sweetly then skirt around him and leave before he can say anything else so you can return to your shared office to get to work on the new client file.

You expect Seungcheol to say something when he returns; to try and taunt you and goad you some more yet he doesn't say a thing, he just silently refills the paper in the printer and gets back to work.

For a whole week, Seungcheol has you on edge; he keeps smirking at you knowingly and making vague comments around others in what you know is an attempt to get you to break. But you hold on strong and don't show a single sign that the you everyone in the office knows, isn't you at all.

It's pretty much a week to the exact minute that you break. Another meeting with that same client that goes about as well as the first has you back in the supply room counting your breaths.

You're very certain that your printer does not need more paper already when you look over at the footsteps entering the small room.

Seungcheol isn't even pretending to be there for any reason other than to watch you break. He's leaning against the unit on his right with his arms crossed over his chest and a cocky smirk on his face.

And finally, enough is enough.

“You need to fucking stop,” you warn. His face lights up in victory at you not even attempting to put on the higher, friendlier pitch you use at work; your customer service voice that you even use for your colleagues. “Seriously, Seungcheol, stop it,” you reiterate while heading towards the exit.

This time, Seungcheol purposely stands in your path and looks down at you arrogantly. “Are you going to admit that you're not the innocent little sweetheart that everyone thinks you are?”

You take a breath as you stare back at him just so you don't break too far. “You don't even know the half of it,” you retort simply.

Seungcheol stares back at you curiously for a few seconds before stepping aside to watch you go, wondering what exactly that means and how he can find out for himself.

After that second incident in the supply room, you figure there's really not any point in keeping up the facade with Seungcheol so when it's just the two of you in your private office, you let the persona drop.

The first time you swear to yourself in complaint over your work, Seungcheol gawps at you in shock until you notice and raise an eyebrow at him. But he says nothing and doesn't react after that time except the occasional amused smile to himself as he hears you curse colourfully at much more regular intervals than he ever does.

And Seungcheol lets you see more of the real him too.

The two of you have always met outside of work for the sake of finishing tasks or discussing clients without being confined to the same four walls of your office. You'd get dinner or he'd come over to your apartment to go over documents in your office for however long necessary. But it was always about work.

Though now that he knows who you really are, it's not always about work; your conversations over dinner turn more friendly, enough that you see him smiling genuinely and laughing for the first time. And he doesn't stop either.

A genuine friendship quickly blossoms between the pair of you, allowing you to be yourselves to the extent that on more than one occasion Seungcheol has turned big, pleading puppy eyes on you with a pout to convince you to go where he wants for dinner, or even when he's complaining about his friends and being whiny, the big eyes hit you.

And the way they hit you is really not something you think you should think about the man, so you shove the thoughts of pinning him down and telling him what to do out of your mind.

The friendship between you is noticed by your colleagues too. It's kind of hard to miss the way that you're the only person who can get Seungcheol to join work dinners, after all.

You both know that there's a 'secret' betting pool going around the office in regard to whether you two are secretly dating or not; Jeonghan is not as slick as he thinks at hiding the bet sheet. And for fun, sometimes you and Seungcheol will purposely let your fingers brush over one another or let your gazes linger longer than they should, just to watch your coworkers try to not visibly flail at what they think are moments of you two failing to hide your relationship.

Though mostly, your close relationship means that when one of you is invited to drinks, dinner or some other activity with colleagues, you'll both turn up. Even if neither of you want to. But you dug a hole with your fake persona and refuse to be buried in it alone so always drag Seungcheol in to suffer with you.

Which leads us to the day that you well and truly snap.

It's one of those days where if something can go wrong, it will, topped with shitty clients and colleagues who will just not let you have five minutes of peace.

By the end of the day, you're wound so tight that all you want to do is go home and give yourself some good old-fashioned stress relief on one of your favourite toys. But this day doesn't allow you even that.

It's another casual team dinner that you can't get out of; it's to celebrate Mingyu's birthday and well, even if you're in a shitty mood, the giant puppy of a man is such a sweetheart that you truly would feel bad about ditching him to masturbate.

So you get into Seungcheol's car like usual after work, go to the restaurant and sit at his side at the table while silently praying that this will not be a complete shit show.

Two hours later, you're really at the end of your fucking rope. You really had been naive to even hope that this team dinner wouldn't be as rowdy and chaotic as all the rest. Your colleagues are a lot on the best of days with nothing to celebrate, so when they have an excuse to drink they really go for it. You're always surprised when the group isn't kicked out of public spaces, honestly.

The only ones not drinking are you and Seungcheol. Neither of you ever drink at these gatherings; you claim that you just don't drink in general while Seungcheol flat-out refuses without any attempt at an excuse. Really, you both don't want to risk encouraging the group to invite either of you out for more than just the company-related dinners, so not drinking sort of keeps the team in general at arm's length. Though both of you do have a few drinks when it's just the two of you and you can let yourselves relax in trusted, comfortable company.

But this is not that, this is you sitting side by side with Seungcheol blessedly keeping his mouth shut while you try not to break and tell everyone to shut the fuck up before leaving.

You do, however, take solace in the bathroom a few times, using the cold water to cool you down before going back into what tonight feels like your own personal hell.

On your latest trip out of the bathroom Seungcheol passes you, heading to empty his own bladder. He smirks at you and murmurs something in your ear as you pass one another. You can't even tell what he says; your brain is so heavy with fuzzy tension that his words don't register at all. But they don't need to, you know he's teasing you about your temper; he's done it before many times. Usually, you'd just joke back at him and point out his own, but tonight you don't have it in you.

Your gaze turns icy on him in a second causing him to come to an abrupt stop. You don't linger, don't slow and just turn and settle your expression back to your facade before rejoining the drunken group.

When Seungcheol returns, he timidly slips into his seat on your right silently in an attempt to not anger you further. Though a few seconds later, the tip of his left pinkie brushes the edge of your right elbow where it's resting on the tabletop, his hand sort of hooked on the edge of the table close to you yet out of sight of your colleagues.

You turn your head to look at Seungcheol and find him looking at you with those fucking giant doe eyes, silently asking for forgiveness. But you don't give it, just turn back around to watch your coworkers making absolute fools of themselves.

Yet your mind is stuck on Seungcheol's innocent expression and timid posture and all you can think about is how much you'd love to make him squirm and beg under your attention. It's riling you up in a way you usually keep such a tight lid on, but considering how tense you already are tonight, that lid is bowing and shaking under the building pressure and you know it'll blow soon enough.

For the first time since meeting Seungcheol, being in his passenger seat isn't a very pleasant experience. Neither of you say a word for the entire fourteen-minute drive from the restaurant to your apartment, and that in itself isn't unusual, but usually there isn't this thick tension hanging between you two.

When Seungcheol pulls up in front of your building, you turn to look at him. He has both hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the space between his hands with clearly no intention of doing more than just dropping you off at home despite the fact he usually goes straight inside with you to hang out some more.

And honestly, it's probably best if he does go straight home and leaves you to deal with your tension alone. But it's not exactly an option.

“You need to check those documents ready for Monday,” you remind. Seungcheol lets out a reluctant breath but relocates the car to the parking lot in silent agreement.

Once in your apartment, the two of you remove your shoes and jackets to put them in their usual places.

It's kind of insane to you that Seungcheol is at your apartment enough that there is literally space on the low shoe rack for him to leave his shoes, and a gap on the pegs for his work jacket, there's even one of his casual jackets already there on the next peg. You don't really have any close friends, nobody you deem worth your time to allow into your life frequently enough to have a usual place in your home.

There isn't anything said between you as you walk through to your office where you lean over onto the desk to boot up your computer while Seungcheol hovers awkwardly a little behind you.

While waiting for the system to accept your password for the work files, you look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. He stares back at you dumbly until you give him a look and motion to the chair on your right with a silent tilt of your head.

In seconds, Seungcheol's ass meets the seat and he stares up at you with big, obedient eyes, his hands laced together and trapped between his thick thighs.

It's all rather dangerous considering how close you are to snapping and overstepping the boundaries neither of you had ever verbally set up between you but are always in place in platonic relationships. Even if you want nothing more than to destroy them right now, and Seungcheol too.

So you turn back to your computer with gritted teeth, open the relevant documents and motion to the computer vaguely before leaving the room entirely.

You go straight to the kitchen to down a glass of water as cold as you can stand it before splashing more on your face, then dragging a cold, wet hand on the back of your neck needing all the help you can currently get to cool down in every sense of the word.

It doesn't work.

By the time Seungcheol is done with the documents and shuffles into the kitchen, you're standing with both hands on the counter in front of you while staring darkly at nothing in particular, jaw tense and an attempt in your breathing to try and regulate your emotions.

“I finished it, it's all ready to send off,” he informs, coming to a stop a few metres away, not as close as he'd usually stand but still closer than sensible if he knew the depravity in your mind right now.

“Good,” you return simply without even looking at him.

He huffs a soft laugh. “No thank you?” He jokes, but you can't see the humour at all. Not when you're feeling like this.

“Thank you?” You repeat flatly before turning your dark gaze to him as you straighten and lean off of the counter. He swallows thickly and takes a step back when you take one towards him, prompting him to keep reversing. “Why should I thank you for doing your fucking job, huh?”

Seungcheol's mouth opens and closes with an attempt to try and say something, some kind of a “just joking” explanation but all he manages are vague sputters of sound that cut off abruptly when his back hits the wall and you're standing right in front of him. He's taller than you by a handful of inches but right now, he feels so fucking small and he's surprised by how much he likes it.

"Well?" You prompt, well aware that he had tried to explain himself; his pathetic stammering was very obvious and gave away that you’re intimidating him.

Though based on the big innocent eyes on you paired with the prettiest of pink tints to his cheeks, you think that perhaps intimidation isn't all it is.

And it's just pushing you to keep pushing him until he breaks because you know that he'll break so fucking beautifully.

“I'm sorry,” he finally manages to squeak out.

“You think that's good enough? You think you can just give me empty words and all is forgiven? Oh, baby, you really don't know me at all.”

He just stares at you dumbly; mouth dry and pupils dilating further and further with every act you make. 

It's far from the Seungcheol you see at work and that thought sort of douses you in icy water. This isn't normal for either of you.

Well, it's not unusual behaviour for you with partners at all, but he doesn't know that. Besides, he's your work partner and friend, not a sexual partner.

“Shit.” You sigh and back up a little. “You should go, I'm clearly not in the right frame of mind and if you stay, I'll go too far.” You try to move even further away to give him space to leave, yet you're stopped by your shirt pulling tight around your back. You look down and find both of Seungcheol's hands gripping the hem of your untucked shirt, his fingers trembling a little. You look back up with a questioning eyebrow.

“ don't want to leave,” he admits quietly as his cheeks darken slightly.

“No?” He shakes his head shyly. “You know what it means if you stay, right? You know what I want to do to you?” You check a little worriedly.

“Uhm...dom me?”

You huff a laugh. “I want to ruin you, baby.” His eyes light with interest. “You want that? Big scary Choi Seungcheol wants little ol' me to pin him down and make him cry?” You tease while running a finger over his jaw.

His mouth opens wider and his tongue appears with the tip pressed against his lip as if reaching for your touch. You don't give it to him even if you think he'll look precious with your fingers in his mouth.

You pull your hands away and cross your arms over your chest. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response, Seungcheol.” Your voice is firm and your expression is the same on him.

“Y-yes!” He rushes out. “I-I want you to do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Use me.” You hadn't said those words yourself, but you like them a hell of a lot. “Push me down and use me to make yourself feel good. Make me cry, ruin me. Please just...do something,” he's begging by now, not as strongly as he could be, still holding back a lot but you're pretty sure it's all very new for him.

You need to check though before anything goes any further. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Subbed?”

He shakes his head a little. “No, it's usually the other way.”

“Figures.” You huff a laugh then reach down to remove his hands from your shirt to take one into your own hand. “Come on.”

You lead him to your bedroom, though let him go in the middle of the floor to walk over and sit on the edge of your bed. He fidgets when you just stare at him contemplatively, your eyes dark and calculating as you lean back on your palms behind you with your legs crossed over at the ankles comfortably.

When he starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt nervously, you speak up deeming him desperate enough with his cheeks a magnificent dark pink. “What're your limits, Cheolie?”

The nickname is new but he likes it. It feels fitting somehow.

“Uh.” He has to stop and think for a moment. He isn't sure exactly what his limits are for certain in this situation because he doesn't know what he likes in the submissive role, but there are some things he knows he'll never be okay with so he starts there. “Bodily fluids outside of spit and cum.”

“So you don't mind being spat on with your own cum?”

“Uh, I mean, I think I'm okay with it,” he offers awkwardly; uncertain but trying his hardest to be open and honest.

“How about eating it?”

“Uh...I don't know about that.”

“Okay.” You easily accept his response and move on. “What else? Pain?”

“I don't know; I've never received it before. If you want to try it I'm willing just… not too intense.”

“Hmm, we'll see. Edging? Overstimulation?” Those options have him hesitating as he genuinely considers them both. And then, he nods slowly, shyly. “I asked a question, Seungcheol.”

“Y-yes, to both.”

“Good, because that's my favourite thing to do to my little ones,” you coo. “Pick a safe word.”

“Uh, can we use the traffic light system? Red for stop, green for carry on?”

“Sure thing,” you agree easily; it was familiar enough to you after all. “What do you use for uncertain? Some people say yellow, some orange, some amber.”

“Whatever.”

“Pick one,” it's a demand he quickly obeys.

“Amber.”

“Good boy.” He visibly preens a little at the praise, which you make a mental note of. “Are you clean? Sexually, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“And that's a recent test since your last sexual partner?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I won't touch you without that confirmation and luckily, I trust you to be honest so you don't need to show me proof like I usually demand.”

“You trust me?” He asks softly, awed by the words and the weight they carry.

You hum and nod in confirmation. “More than anyone else.”

“Oh.” He smiles down at his hands happily. “I feel the same about you too.”

“I imagine so, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be willing to do this if you didn't,” you tease.

“Ah, yeah, true.” He chuckles and rubs his neck shyly.

You let him stew in his minor embarrassment for a second before talking again. “Degradation?” He looks up at you at that. “How do you feel about that?”

“I might cry,” he admits honestly, making you laugh a little at the blunt way he speaks the words. “I don't like being called names or looked down on.”

“Okay, baby, none of that,” you assure.

“Thank you.”

“Mm, of course, I have to make this good for you too. And I do love that you use your manners without being prompted. Such a good boy, huh?” His eyes round out again at you and the semi-casual air between you dissipating with your slightly teasing tone. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Cheolie?”

“Yes, I'll be good for you.”

“Then strip.” He blinks at you a few times at the abrupt demand; the way your tone changes from light to borderline hard with no room for arguments.

Slowly, Seungcheol's slightly shaky fingers first remove his tie, and then his shirt, exposing his broad, muscle-thick torso to you. He knows he looks good, that his body is worth ogling but your dark eyes still make him feel shy.

Still, he continues, his top half entirely bare and moving onto his belt.

Something about the way he opens it and pulls it free from the loops of his slacks is really attractive to you. You can easily imagine him teasing his own sub as he removes his belt before grabbing the ends to turn it on their backside when he bends them over. Maybe you could break for him too; if he turns out to be a good enough fuck this time that is.

For now, you're more than content to watch him open his button and zipper and let his trousers drop to his ankles. He bends down to remove them from around his feet, taking his socks off too and then he straightens up and looks at you. You can tell he's hesitant to remove his boxers by the way his fingers fiddle with the waistband over his hips for a few seconds.

There's a part of you that wants to let him off easy for now and allow him to keep his boxers on for a little while. But the bigger part of you really doesn't want to do that so you continue to silently watch him.

Seungcheol lowers his head to look down at his underwear for a second, then he looks at you through his eyelashes still hoping you'll take pity on him. You don't. So he looks back down as he takes a long breath in before he hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and starts to push the material down.

You watch with rapt attention as the final piece of the beautiful, thick-built puzzle that is Choi Seungcheol is revealed to you inch by glorious inch. You have to admit, he's fucking gorgeous and it does a lot to you. Makes you throb between your thighs as they clench for a second while he's distracted focusing on removing his boxers from his legs.

And then he's entirely bare and looking at you shyly, fingers on his right hand picking at the nails of his left in nervous wait.

“C'mere,” you murmur. Seungcheol stumbles over and when you nod to the floor, he slowly lowers to his knees, letting his hands hover over his rapidly hardening dick. That is like the rest of him; thick and unfairly beautiful.

At this rate, you can't tell who is going to ruin who.

“Don't hide from me.” You unfold your legs just to gently tap at his hands with your socked foot before settling it flat on the floor beside his left knee.

A little reluctantly, Seungcheol moves his hands aside to place them on the tops of his thighs and allow you the full view of his kneeled form.

“Mm, much better, good boy.” The praise straightens his posture a little. “You're so beautiful, babyboy, don't deprive me of such a gorgeous view, hm?”

“Ah, fuck,” he softly breathes out; a little overwhelmed by the unexpected compliments, which he just knows are genuine from your tone and expression on him. You clearly like what you see and it makes his dick jump a little against his thigh. You smirk at the visible response; you've always known that Seungcheol loves compliments and praise but you didn't know just how much.

“Shall we even things out a little?” You suggest, already getting up to your feet in front of him.

He watches you with rapt attention as you open your trousers and shimmy them down. His gaze is too focused on the skin of your thighs coming into sight that he doesn't realise that you've pushed your panties down with your trousers to save yourself time. At least until you sit back down on the edge of the bed when the material is around your knees.

“Off,” you demand.

Seungcheol's hands immediately reach out to hook his fingers over the combined waistbands and pull them off of your slightly raised legs. It's when he's setting them aside that he notices the white material inside of the black of your trousers and freezes.

Mindlessly, he moves one hand to pull on the white material and quickly looks at you with wide eyes and his mouth parted. You just raise an eyebrow in return, silently prompting him to snap back to his task and move the material aside entirely so that he can carefully remove your socks too.

“Good boy.”

Just to tease, you sit there for a good almost twenty seconds with your legs closed most of the way, just the slightest gap between your thighs but it's not big enough for him to see anything but a dark shadow.

To your surprise, he actually gives in first. “Please?” He begs softly, looking up at you pleadingly. “Please let me see your pussy.”

“Oh, how can I refuse such good manners?” You coo and spread your legs causing his gaze to drop back down between them. Though he whines when he realises that your shirt is long enough to mostly cover you and shadow the rest. “You make such cute sounds, Cheolie.”

“Don't tease me,” he complains.

“I'll do what I want and you'll be grateful for it.” He presses his lips together looking fully scolded and stares at you in wait. He's impatient, that's very obvious but he's doing his best to stick to this new dynamic.

Honestly, he's taking to it a lot better than you had expected, or hoped, considering all that you know about Choi Seungcheol; so instead of prolonging it any longer, you lift the hem of your shirt out of the way with one hand.

Seungcheol's lips part when his eyes land back between your thighs and take in the sight of you fully exposed to him. Automatically, his hands lift with every intention of putting them on your thighs to push your legs open further while he leans in licking his lips.

But you stop him with your free hand, a finger pressed to his forehead. “I didn't say you can touch.” You grin amusedly at his dumb-aroused expression; his mouth open and tongue hanging out a little.

“Can I taste?” He requests, putting his hands back on his thighs but not leaning back. Your slightly condescending laugh makes him pout. When you nudge his forehead under your index finger, he leans back into a sulky slouch.

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty for me,” you point out, now using that same finger to trail up your inner thigh. Seungcheol's pout melts away as he watches its path intently. He audibly inhales sharply when it drags through your folds. He groans a little when he sees the shine now on the digit and wishes it was his tongue getting doused in your arousal.

Even though you very much would enjoy an orgasm or two sooner rather than later, you continue to tease yourself with one finger; barely brushing over your clit and circling your hole but never pushing in. It's more to tease Seungcheol and the squirming of his body perhaps turns you on more than your own actions.

Either way, when you do finally give in and plunge your finger inside, you're wet enough that it's more than easy and honestly, not very satisfying past the initial relief of having something in you finally.

Though that relief passes very quickly so soon you're adding a second finger and watching Seungcheol chew on his bottom lip hard enough that you think he's going to break skin any second. You really don't want that, so you pull your fingers out and reach towards him. The speed at which he leans it with his mouth opening genuinely makes you laugh.

“Oh, baby, you are desperate, huh?” You tease and adjust your hand so that your thumb presses against his bottom lip and your slick fingers are not close enough to his mouth to get even the hint of a taste. “You're not getting a taste, I just don't want you to hurt those pretty lips.” The expression he lands on you is utterly heartbroken. “Stop biting or I'll gag you, understand?”

“I...I understand,” he agrees, so you let him go and return your fingers back to yourself, though Seungcheol doesn't lean back. In this position, his head is pretty much between your knees, which you spread a little wider and he takes as permission to scoot a little closer. You don't mind at all, he'll just be teasing himself more with a closer view after all.

Your intention with fingering yourself isn't to reach orgasm at all, mostly you just want to tease Seungcheol by showing him what he can't have, though you also do want to prepare yourself. When you're able to easily take three fingers, you remove them and get up.

“Wh-where are you going?” He worries, hands lifting from his thighs but only hovering a few inches away from his own body. He wants to reach out and stop you from walking away but he knows he can't. You still haven't given him permission to touch yet and he really doesn't want to be scolded again, let alone face any kind of punishment you may give him if he disobeys a direct order. He's horny, not stupid.

“I'll be right back, just sit there and wait like a good boy, sweetheart,” your voice is gentle in order to soothe him that you are, in fact, not planning to actually leave and end things here as he fears.

You quickly grab something from a case in the chest of drawers before returning. You sit back down and open your thighs again, but Seungcheol's gaze is glued to the pale blue dildo in your hand.

“What do you think?” You muse, leaning down to hold it near to his erection in comparison. “Ah, not quite as thick as you.” You sigh dramatically and straighten back up. “That's a shame; it's as close as I've got though, so it'll have to do.” You pout theatrically as you trace the tip of the silicone toy over your slick folds; it's a little cold and jarring but you do your best to ignore it. Besides, the temperature difference isn't something you're entirely against.

Vaguely, you wonder if Seungcheol would be into temperature play; you've never tried it before but you've always been interested in both giving and receiving.

Seungcheol wants to make a retort, say that instead of settling for a toy that wouldn't stretch you like his thick cock would, you could just use his. He'd fuck you however you want and probably thank you for it at this point; he's throbbing with need and leaking on his thigh. He doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on in his life. But he can't talk, can't say a fucking thing as he watches the head of the toy breach you.

He was wrong before, now he's more turned on than he's ever been as he watches the way the girth of the toy spears you open.

Your breath catches a little so he looks up at you and once again corrects himself because your expression is what wet dreams are fucking made of. Your mouth is parted and your eyes are closed, your head tipped back slightly and your cheeks pink with pleasure.

You let out a curse under your breath so he looks back down and swears in the same fashion when he sees that you have entirely embedded the toy within you, just the slightly flared base in your fingers still.

“Fuck,” he curses again when you start to pull the toy out slowly and he sees how you've drenched it. Your eyes open to look down at him with an amused lopsided grin. He doesn't notice though, he's too entranced by the show less than a metre in front of his face.

Seungcheol doesn't notice the way he naturally moves a hand towards his crotch with the intention of soothing his aching cock, but you do. “Stop,” you demand, stopping your own motions of fucking into yourself slowly to let yourself get used to the toy's length and girth fully.

“Huh?” He looks up at you confused with his mouth wide open.

“I didn't give you permission to touch your cock, Seungcheol.”

“What?” He looks down and notices the hand inches from his dick. “Oh.” He hesitates but obediently puts his hand back on his thigh before looking up at you shyly. “I-I didn't realise. I'm sorry.”

“Feeling that needy?” You smirk and get back to fucking yourself on the toy. He lets out a sound, a mix between a whimper and a groan as he looks back down at your pussy. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, I've never been this turned on before,” he admits in a rush of syllables. “Wanna fuck you so much,” he whines, fingers curling into fists which he presses down onto his thighs almost harshly in an attempt to behave for you.

He wants to be good for you. Wants to be your good boy. But it's so fucking hard when you look so fucking good. Look like your pussy would take him so well and make a fucking mess of him.

All he wants is to get up, throw that toy aside and sink his cock into you and feel your slick, heated walls around him. He's fucking convinced that your pussy would be perfect for him.

But he can't, and that's really hard for him to accept and handle when he's usually the one in charge during sex.

“Think you can make me feel better than this?” You taunt a little and pick up speed, letting your pleasure show through with little pleased sounds that really do not help Seungcheol's self-control at all. He moves a little closer yet doesn't touch either of you the way he wants to.

He's obviously trying his hardest and that, you think, is more than enough when honestly, you really want his cock in you as much as he wants to put it in you.

“Yes,” there's not an ounce of hesitation in his answer, he's entirely confident in his abilities, in his thick cock.

Usually, you'd roll your eyes and dismiss that confidence from a man because they're notoriously cocky with nothing to back up their claims. Part of the reason you got into domming is because men don't know how to use their dicks, so you always get more pleasure when you're on top and controlling how your walls are pummelled.

But there's something about Seungcheol that tells you that he's not like other men. He can and will fuck you right given the chance. Still, you want to be on top in every way.

“Big talk, little one.” You huff a laugh, most of your breath affected by the pleasure of the toy you're using to hit all of those good spots inside of you with every thrust. You're not being as rough as you could be, as you often tend to be when you feel like this, but you're talking and know that you have no space left in your chest for words when you truly fuck yourself.

“Let me prove it,” he pleads. “Please, just let me fuck you and I promise you'll cum hard.”

“I'll cum hard regardless,” you hum. His expression twists in displeasure knowing that you are truly dismissing his offer. “Maybe another time,” you counteroffer, not liking that downtrodden expression at all.

He looks up at you with hope glistening his dark gaze. “Yeah?” He asks with a surprised exhale.

“If you do good enough for me this time.” You pull the toy out and point it at him. Seungcheol eyes it and licks his lips. “What? You wanna suck it?” You taunt.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs.

“Enough to suck my cock?”

He glances up at you then looks back down and nods, licking his lips again. “Yeah, can I? Please?”

“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” you approve and touch the silicone toy to his bottom lip.

Seungcheol's tongue immediately darts out to pass over the silicone and get his first taste of you. His eyes roll back and he groans before he very enthusiastically starts to drag his mouth over the toy. He moves up the length along every side, not actually putting the toy into his mouth really, but this is absurdly hot enough as it is.

It turns you on much more than you had anticipated seeing this handsome man pretty much going feral for your taste that he'll messily lave his tongue over the dildo with his eyes closed in bliss and constant streams of groans of approval vibrating out of his throat.

And when he moves back to the tip and wraps his lips around it, genuinely sucking on the fake-cock, well that's as much as you can handle. You pull it away without warning creating a pop before Seungcheol looks at you half dazed, half betrayed with a smidge of confusion.

“Get on the bed,” you demand, getting up and walking around to one side of the bed while unbuttoning your shirt.

Seungcheol doesn't even have to think; there's no mental input on his behalf as he jumps up. His legs almost give out under him as the blood rushes back into his limbs after sitting on them in one position for a prolonged period, but he powers through to practically throw himself onto the mattress.

“On your back.” He crawls and shuffles until he's on his back with his head on the pillows and chest rising and falling heavily already in anticipation.

Seungcheol's heavy gaze remains on you as you reveal your body entirely. He lets out a shaky exhale when you're fully bare and climbing up onto the mattress at his left. “You're beautiful,” he says in a tone that is far too affectionate for what is going on here.

It makes you pause for a moment and look carefully at his gaze. He still looks ridiculously horny but there's something else there now; a touch of fond that genuinely sort of worries you.

Of course, you are fond of Seungcheol; he's a very precious friend to you but your feelings don't extend further than that, further than platonic and sexual. You really hope that the fondness you see is nothing more than a reflection of your own feelings and nothing more. Him having romantic feelings could certainly complicate matters more than adding sex into the mix will.

Sex you can navigate with your eyes closed, but feelings? That's an entirely different circus.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” His hopeful tone brings you back to reality. He hasn't even noticed your hesitation for what it truly is and just assumes you're teasing him further.

“Not today,” you answer, silently deciding to just give you both what you want right now and have an actual discussion later when you're both not horny messes.

“Oh.” His lips purse into a pout but then you retrieve a condom from the side table drawer and he lights up again. “Oh!” You let out a soft amused sound at his excited reaction and straddle his thighs while opening the wrapper. “Can I touch myself?” You give him an unimpressed look. “Just to help!” He assures.

“Mm, sure, I'll allow that,” you agree. Seungcheol has his dick in hand as soon as the words are slipping from your lips and holding it upright for you. You notice the way he shudders a little at his own touch on his aching cock and don't berate him for the subtle stroke he gives himself as he rolls the rubber down his length once you put it at his tip. “Good boy,” you hum, tossing the foil aside carelessly.

“For you,” he answers, wide eyes watching as you move up his body to hover over his length that he's still holding upright. “Please.” He doesn't even realise he says it, but you do and decide you've both waited more than long enough.

As soon as you start to slide down his cock, Seungcheol's eyes roll back and his hands fly out to grip your hips tightly. It feels pretty nice so you allow it, at least for now, it's kind of stabilising to have his strong grasp centring you while his cock splits you open.

Although it hadn't looked that much bigger than your toy, you can certainly feel the difference in girth right now. Plus the fact that Seungcheol is so fucking hard in you compared to the slight give of the toy, well you're already so close to an orgasm it's kind of ridiculous.

It takes you both a handful of seconds of heavy breathing to gather yourselves when you're fully impaled on his length and seated on his hips. You don't even try to keep any weight off of him; you're certain he can handle it and even if you weren't, your legs are already weak enough from the feeling of him stretching you out even still like this that you doubt you could hold yourself up if you tried.

You haven't realised that your eyes had closed until you've got some of your breath back, enough to have a mind clear enough to want to look down at him. His eyes are closed; he's struggling more than you, which doesn't surprise you considering how you hadn't allowed him any touch until now.

Carefully, you remove Seungcheol's grip from your hips and lean over to pin his hands up by his head. The new angle has his cock hitting a delicious spot within you and you can't help but grind down against him to gain friction against it. This angle also means that your clit is rubbing against his body with every roll of your hips.

Seungcheol barely manages to open his eyes and look at you before they roll back again with pleasure as you moan over him, fingers gripping onto his wrists with your full weight. He doesn't mind at all, doesn't really register it considering you're so wet and hot and tight around him that he truly cannot focus on anything else. Yet even if he could register it, he wouldn't give a single fuck. You could crush him and he'd be into it right now.

“D-don't cum,” you order when you feel your orgasm right on the brink, eyes opening to peer down at him. His own fly open in pained disbelief. “Un-fuck-understand, Seungcheol?” He whines but nods obediently. The agreement of restraint sends you over. Pleasure shocks through your body making it jerk a little, mouth open with broken higher-pitched moans coming out.

Seungcheol's whole body tenses and his face screws up tightly as you clamp down around him. He's never fought an orgasm before but you told him not to cum and he's not going to let you down now.

He's shaking by the time you slump over him, forehead dropping to his shoulder as you fight to suck air back into your lungs, just the occasional tiny twitch of your hips when a fresh lick of pleasure shoots through you with the aftershocks of an intense orgasm.

“Did you cum?” You check another few moments later.

It takes Seungcheol a few attempts to answer, just grunts coming out at first but you wait patiently. “No,” he manages while flexing his fingers to give him something else to focus on.

“Good boy,” you praise and press a kiss to his neck. His breath catches at the unexpected action but then you do it again, and again, and again as you adjust yourself while leaning up to look down at him with your hands now on the mattress and not pressing down against his wrists in a tight grip.

You take a look at them and are relieved that there's only slight redness right now, so you're pretty sure he won't bruise. Still, you'll keep an eye on it just in case.

“You did so well, Cheolie.” You hum and cup his jaw. His lip trembles a little, eyes so big on you and soaking in the praise. It helps his shaking lessen as he relaxes from doing his utmost not to cum with the fluttering of your walls around him. “Think you can hold out longer for me, baby?”

“I...ye-yeah.” He isn't sure but he's sure he'll try his best for you. He really wants to be your good boy. Your best boy.

“Yeah?” You smile softly, pleased. He nods and smiles back a little in a natural reaction to seeing you happy with him. “That's my boy.” You tap his nose, then straighten up to sit on his hips with your hands on his solid abs. “I'm going to ride you now, okay baby?”

He nods shakily and sticks his hands under the pillow to grip it. “O-okay.”

“Colour?” He blinks at you confusedly a few times. “What colour are you right now, sweetheart?”

“Oh, green,” he answers. “Green.” The repetition makes your lips quirk up. It's oddly endearing that he's assuring you right now considering he's the one missing an orgasm.

“Good, tell me if that changes, okay?” He nods. You let him get away with not verbally responding this time and start to lift yourself up.

Seungcheol's gaze falls to watch his length appear from your dripping pussy utterly mesmerised. Up until you abruptly drop yourself back down, ass smacking down on his upper thighs audibly.

A loud, low moan tears from his open mouth as his back arches upwards. He looks fucking beautiful like this. You have to keep making him do that so you don't hesitate to lift and drop in the very same way; taking up a punishing rhythm that has his cock dragging against your walls in the most incredible of ways.

Honestly, you're half convinced his cock just being in you has you halfway to a constant orgasm because that ball in your lower stomach winds up tight so fucking quickly that you barely register it until it's there, urging you over but this isn't quite enough for you. You need clitoral stimulation but you don't think it's wise to give it to yourself right now with Seungcheol buried within you and his body trembling as he still holds back with everything in him.

At this point, he's babbling a little in amongst his constant stream of porn-worthy moans. You're not quite sure what he's saying really, you're not sure that he even knows what he's saying either.

If you cum with him inside you, you're positive that he will too regardless of your words so you pull off of him. His eyes instantly fly open in alarm and he looks at you as he lifts his head up. You just settle down again along his latex-covered cock to grind along the length.

He gasps and shudders watching his cock peek out through your slick folds. “Please, please,” he begs; his babbles now making sense while he's not overwhelmed with the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This is still a lot for him but he's much more able to be a good boy for you now. He really wants to make you proud of him. He doesn't want you to think he's a bad boy for cumming without permission, because then you won't play with him again and he really doesn't want that. He wants to be your good boy. Your only good boy.

You know what he's begging for even if he doesn't voice it. You'll make him say it in a minute but right now you're seconds from a second orgasm and unless he says red you're not going to stop.

Even though the orgasm is yours entirely, Seungcheol moans when you do as he watches your face contort with utter bliss as your hips jerk over his length a few more times before falling still. It's not quite as powerful as your first orgasm, not when you're empty, but it's still intense and leaves you breathless.

Initially, you had planned to give yourself many more orgasms before letting Seungcheol cum but you genuinely think if you draw more than one more out of yourself, you'll pass out. You don't know if it's because it's been a while and you've been so pent up that it feels so mind-numbingly incredible, or if it's because of the thick cock pressed up against you.

“Colour?” You pant out when you feel ready to go again, eyes landing on Seungcheol.

He doesn't hesitate to answer this time but he finally sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and cracking a little with the simple single-syllable response. “Green.”

“Okay.” You push up and gently lift his cock up to line with you, applying as little pressure as possible to try not to give him too much too soon and overwhelm him in the wrong way. “Positive?” He nods rapidly so you begin to impale yourself again. His breaths come in one long juddering inhale as you slide down his length until he's sheathed inside of you.

“Please,” he goes right back to pleading, levelling you with such a begging, wet gaze that you know that this will not last long at all.

“Please what, baby?” You question, lifting to ride him slowly, now focused on him and him alone yet not wanting to push him over too fast. He looks too pretty like this; skin blotched with reds and pinks in a way that makes you wish you had discussed marks beforehand so that you could leave some lovebites on his pecs.

But you hadn't, and asking for permission at this point is utterly pointless, Seungcheol is too gone to be able to give full consent to anything new. You're pretty sure he'd say yes to anything right now so long as he can cum.

“Lemmecum.”

“Hm? What was that, speak clearly.”

Seungcheol whines and sniffles. “I wanna c-cum. P-please.” He blinks rapidly as the tears gathering in his eyes overflow and spill down his temples onto the pillow under him. “Please-please l-let me c-cum,” he chokes out, close to full-on sobbing.

You give in. You want to make him cry, not sob his poor heart out, after all. “You can cum,” you consent.

Seungcheol freezes for a split second in genuine shock, but then his eyes roll back and his back bows, biceps bulging as he grips the pillow so tight and pulls it up a little with the strength of his orgasm. He almost yells your name he moans so loud in pleasure and relief as the intense climax takes over his body.

You continue to move on him slowly to ride him through it, and then a little out the other side when he flops back against the sheets and raggedly sucks in harsh breaths with only short exhales. You'd continue with the intention to overstimulate him if he wasn't laid utterly boneless and not even reacting to you anymore. It's boring to overstimulate someone with no response, after all.

He doesn't even react when you carefully pull off of him and remove the condom to tie off and dispose of in the bin beside your bedside table. You stand beside the bed on weak legs for a second to watch him in wonder and decide that he truly is too out of it right now to even notice your presence; so you dart off to get a large glass of water and drink some yourself, and a damp cloth before returning.

Seungcheol is still lying there with his eyes closed though his breathing is evening out now when you place the cup on the side table and sit on the bed at his side. You carefully start to run the cloth over his sweat-damp body; a shower is really needed but that can wait a little.

Seungcheol makes a soft noise but doesn't react otherwise.

Finally, he opens his eyes when you return from taking the cloth back to the bathroom to toss into the hamper where you also clean between your thighs quickly.

“Hey,” you greet softly, laying down on your right propped up on your elbow at his side to look down at him as your left hand soothes over his chest.

“Hi.” He smiles softly at you, then tiredly rolls over to tuck up against you. You smile at the cute action and turn onto your back to allow him to curl up against your side with his head on your chest, his right arm and leg over you keeping you there. Not that you have any intention to move quite yet.

This is nice.

Your right arm goes around his back and into his hair to play with the strands while your left hand rubs over his forearm, gentle yet firm enough that he knows you're here and not going anywhere. “How're you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired,” he mumbles, making you laugh softly.

“Just tired?” He hums in confirmation. “So you're good otherwise? It wasn't too much?”

“No. M'good,” he slurs a little, signalling that he truly is tired enough that sleep is already starting to claim him.

“Yeah, you are. My good boy, huh?” You tease lightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. You're pretty sure you can feel his cheek bunch up against your skin as he smiles in return.

“Your good boy,” he confirms, voice so thick that you know there's no point trying to get him up to shower or eat, even drink despite knowing he really should. It'll have to wait until he wakes.

“Mm, yeah, sleep now baby, we'll talk more later,” you reply, though you're certain he's too close to slumber to really catch the warning.

Regardless, you know that once he's awake and you're certain that he's still genuinely okay, clean and fed, you'll have to talk. A lot has changed in such a short time and hopefully, he will confirm that it's nothing more than sex for him too because the alternative has dread pooling in your gut.

You can't do this again if it's not entirely equal and you kind of have the feeling that there's no going back now that you've had each other like this. Yet, if you can't go forward because of potential feelings on his side, then you're well and truly fucked and not in the way either of you want to be.

Still, that's not something you can discuss right now so you follow Seungcheol's lead and close your eyes. You just hope that when you open them, everything will be alright.

[evansonlylove]

id share my power with you forever

-kai anderson x female reader

CW: Smut 18+, slapping, choking, toxic relationship, rough, p n v, abuse? body marking, jealousy. kai being kai. mentions of murder, gun. exhibition. . !!Loving kai!!

Summary: Kai had been getting closer to his members but you noticed one girl in particular. She always touched kai and flaunted herself in front of him for you to see until you finally had enough as he wasn’t stopping it. He shows you just how much he really loves you♥️(other woman is h/n)

“It’s time for a revolution, a revolution i want you all to be a part of. i’ll give you purpose” Kai said as he walked around the room, looking at all of us sitting down. He’d talked to you about the type of people he wanted, the power he wanted and such yet it surprised you every time he talked. “Real power is having people loyal enough to you that, if you ask them to, they will kill themselves. they will override their natural survival instinct in service for your needs and will.” He turns to a girl sitting infront and looks down at her, seeing her admiration as easy target. “I’ll give you.. give you all something to be a part of. someone to serve for the best”

It was all for a cause right? you shouldn’t be jealous, he’s just doing his job. You remembered when you were that girl, the innocent girl he longed for that opened his cold heart. But he loved you you just need to be secure in that, and you were until she did everything possible to have him. She wasn’t even threatened or cared to do it infront of you and it drove you crazy.

“Hey h/n I need to talk to you, meet me in my room when you’re done with that will you?” being the leaders girlfriend came the perk of the members listening to you as well, you were going to put an end to her one way or another. Finally she walks in, but of course wearing the shortest shorts known to man kind and skimpiest shirt. “Lock the door please and sit down” You pulled out a chair for her as you stayed standing up. “So I see what you keep doing, wearing these clothes infront of MY boyfriend. What are you looking to get?”

“What do you think? I obviously want him, i could easily take him for you” She said and looked up at you with teasing eyes and a laugh.

“Oh? you really think so?” Your hand goes up to her neck choking and pushing it back. “Id love to see you actually try, because all you’ve done is dress like a whore and it’s done nothing” Reaching into your back pocket you pull out a gun Kai had given you for protection and put it right up to her head. “But try it, try it and i’ll fucking kill you. After all I am Kai’s girlfriend, I know a thing or two” Suddenly you hear the door open, turning around you see Kai shirtless with his beautiful blue hair half up in a bun.

“What the fuck is happening here?” He questioned as he walked closer and sees who’s in the chair.

“Just telling this stupid whore she should stop trying to take you from me… or i’ll kill her” You whisper into her ear and feel kai’s hand around your waist making a smile appear on your lips.

“Pfft, her attempts have be pathetic but i’ll tell you something” He turns its body to you while you still have the gun pointed to her head “You can kill her, or I can show you how much I ONLY love you” His head leans down and in to kiss you.

“Get the fuck out of here, try again and i’ll kill you for real” You look at her and point to the door but kai has other plans.

“No no let her stay, let her see how much i love you. Make her watch what she’ll never have” He gave you a smirk before locking the door with a key this time. “And you sit the fuck down, don’t talk” Letting you go he leaned down to her face level. “All you ever were was a easy target to serve me, if you thought anything else than you really are a stupid whore” he practically spit his words at her.

You put your gun down on your drawer and got down on your knees infront of kai, his fingers ran through your hair as he looked down at you. “What a pretty girl you are” You really were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, always especially pretty when you looked up at him on your knees ready to serve him. Reaching your hands up you undo his jeans and bring them down, seeing his hard cock in his underwear you bit your lip and slowly jerked him off as he pulled them down. Holding his cock in your hands you slid it on your lips before kissing his tip and taking him into your mouth fully. “Fuck, you’d never be able to take this cock like her”.

You looked over at her as he ran his hands to the back of your head and fucked your mouth, the groans coming out of his mouth was the cherry on top, It felt like electricity through your body. Once he was close he pulled out of your mouth and pulled you up by the back of your head, he placed a kiss on your lips before turning you around and slapping your ass. Slowly he pulled your pants off along with your panties, you took your shirt off and threw it to the side. “Look at these fucking ass and tits, you think you can compete with my pretty little slut?” Her face ran red when he showed you off. “I asked you a question bitch” He walked over to her and slapped her across the face before she answered.

“No- no i can’t compete with her”

“That’s fucking right” he says before laying you down on the bed, kissing down your body and licking a stripe up your pussy. “This cunt is all I need” He lays a kiss on your clit and spits on your already wet pussy, suddenly he flips you on all fours and holds onto your hips as he pulls you onto his cock.

“Fuck, kai you feel so good” you moan out while he pounds your pussy from the back, reaching down he lifts your upper body towards him holding you up by your neck. He lays kisses on your neck still thrusting into you. You turn your head around leading into a passionate kiss between you two, his groans going into your lips making you throb around his cock.

“Show her how good you ride me” He whispers into your ear as he lays down. You straddle him in reverse cowgirl so you can look at her face while you do so, kai leads his cock to your entrance as you slide down. “Tell her how good this divine cock feels in you, show her it’s all yours”

Holding in your moans you look at her while still going up and down on him. “His divine fucking cock feels so good in my pussy, and it’s all fucking mine” Kai held onto your ass and gave you a slap showing how proud he was. His cock hit the perfect spot in you every time you went down.

“Don’t hold back your moans, show that bitch the pleasure i’ll never give her” And just like that you let go, moans coming out of your mouth and filling the room along with the sounds of your ass hitting his hips with each move you made. “Yeah just like that, so fucking hot for me” His hands holding onto your hips so hard you felt the bruises forming.

“Divine ruler I need to cum, im so close please” He lifted you off his cock and put you on your back

“Not just yet, you’re cumming with me” Sliding his cock back into your wet cunt. Your orgasm building up again with his hand cupping your breast as he leaned down kissing and sucking on your breasts leaving hickeys and marks all over you. Your head rolled back in pleasure feeling his hands all over your and his cock thrusting deep into you.

“God I love you and your cock my divine ruler” You moaned out before his hand reached your chin pulling your head to look at him.

“Yeah baby? look at me while I fuck you and this perfect wet little cunt” His hands squeezed your cheeks causing your mouth to open as he spit down your throat. You swallowed immediately looking into his eyes with a slutty smile on your face. “I fucking love you ” Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came close to you again, you felt his thrusts get harder as he groaned into your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside this cunt while that stupid bitch watches, you ready to cum with me my little lamb?”

“Fuck yes, give my cunt your seed my God” He held your hands at your side as he let out his final thrust pushing you over the edge screaming his name while you came all over his cock, milking his cum into your desperate pussy. It was all unreal, he gave you unreal pleasure. You leaned up and pulled him into a kiss while he was still inside of you he pulled you up to sit.

“Let’s go finish her off” He whispered into your ear as you stood up with him and walked towards her with his cum dripping down your pussy.

“Oh look at how flustered you look, you dumb bitch you’ll never have him, I hope you were able to learn that. I don’t want to have to lose a bullet on you.” You laughed and held kai’s hand.

“I wouldnt even pitty fuck you, keep that shit up and i’ll kill you myself” He pulls her hair back as she screeches in pain from his force. “What you just saw, that’s how I fuck the woman I love”

“Get out of my face and go do something useful with yourself” Right as she stood up you pulled her down on her knees, humiliating her once again. “Actually, thank him for letting you watch. He was being nice don’t you think?”

“yes, yes thank you divine ruler for letting me see how- how much you only love her” She stuttered out making a laugh come out of both of you.

“What a pathetic bitch. All you do here is obey me and y/n and that’s it, don’t walk around like a slut trying to get me to pitty fuck you. Seriously get out now.” She walks out leaving you and kai alone, picking you up with your legs around him he kisses you.

“You’re the only one I want, i’d share my power with you forever”.

You look at him with confusion, you he loved having power and even deep inside you “knew” you were only a special follower to him. “I thought today had shown you i want us to be two, in this together. I want you to be the divine queen to these people, alongside me”

“Of course i will kai, you won’t regret this. I know how much trust you’re putting in me and i’ll never get out of my place, you’re still the divine ruler, i don’t mind ruling these people beside you but never above you” You lean in and leave kisses down his neck, all of what you thought before was wrong. He was genuine, you were different to him and opened a different side of him.

“You know it was hot to see you take charge of someone in the group, And you were right. Being with me has taught you a few things, i bet you even got a rush out of putting her in her place.”. You felt your heartbeat get faster as these words came out of his mouth, slowly he laid you down and laid beside you as you thought about everything. Kai changed you, made you realize the deepest parts of yourself and being entirely true to who you really are and desire.

“I did, I feel like i’ve been chasing a high like that. The only other time i feel it is when you take control and ruin me while loving me” You turned your body over and cupped his face with your hand, you were never a religious person but seeing him made you question that maybe God was real and took form in him. “But i have been craving something more…”

“Tell me” His hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him leaving your head on his chest. Before you answered you lifted your hand up to his rising and falling chest, his heartbeat not only gave him life but it did to you too.

“I’d kill for you and i know you’d kill for me. I’ve been in the group while you kill people with other members, I always see how your face changes as if something takes over you and you feel truly alive. I want that with you, I want that high with you.” His eyes almost lit up with your response, as if he has been waiting for this very moment.

“I knew you were fucking perfect for me” A almost sadistic smile spread on his face as he picked you up and placed you in his lap, immediately your lips crash together like they had many times before except this time there was a hunger for more and you knew you’d get that certain high soon enough. Everything felt as if it went into place, you knew how kai truly felt abiut you, you knew you weren’t just another member and you knew you had changed him somehow. Kai was still kai, but with love, love for you and only you forever.

part 2?

thank you all for reading, this was kinda quick and i’m thinking about writing a different version of this where they actually kill the other girl, or just a part two to this. not sure if you’ll like that so if you’re interested pls comment it lolll. all likes and reposts are so appreciated and make my day. i’m trying to grow my account and such but i’ve just started writing and i’m not sure what to do to grow it but thank you for your support ♥️- rain

[anantaru]

who do you think would be most likely to end up in a fwb arrangement (and catch feelings 🤭)?

including. kaveh & scaramouche

cw. [ex]plicit, friends with benefits, they’re idiots istg, fem! reader

— kaveh + will tell you he loves you during sex

kaveh's body was aflame and his frazzled chest heaves as he watches you go down on him, slowed movements and your touch bringing him afloat, as if underwater, and his eyes, they're aglow— purled with a dwelling pleasure when you squeeze him gently around his tip, your thumb patting over a thudding vein which was on the underside of his girth, embellishing his pretty, thick cock when your lips slant down at last, parting to wrap around his sizable dick.

"archons.." kaveh moans out the pleasure you set free in his frame, and he's licking his lips at the sheer sight of you, mouth watering as a heavy hand drops against the back of your head to move you up and down his bulging cock himself as you're eagerly running your tongue back and forth the sensitive skin to please him, make him cum inside your warmth, whilst the man was growing certainly impatient when you taste a couple droplets of his pre greatly overwhelming your taste buds;

yet then, it's when your entire ordeal of having this, so called, special relationship, which— let's be honest now, was fairly confusing in its own parts, came entirely crumbling down on you.

well, you occasionally fucked, yes, but that's about it, so when you suddenly hear it, the:

"fuck— i love you so much."

you instantly still your lips around his cock because wait. what.

your eyes shoot open at the words and you look up at kaveh as his own worried gaze meets yours immediately, in horror, both parties awkwardly staring at each other for what felt like hours as he was reminding himself about what he just said, and what he just ruined for himself.

you pull him out of your mouth, and kaveh hisses at the lost contact of your warmth sadly leaving his cock when he attempts to speak again and fix this bloody mess somehow.

"i mean this!" he panics, pointing at his still, very much, erected cock resting on his lower stomach, "i don't love you, i love this!"

you look at him in overwhelmed disbelief, because what the actual fuck, honestly defeated with this entire, confusing situation as you quickly grab your shirt off the ground, swiftly pulling it above your head and dragging it down to conceal your upper body because being fully naked right now, didn't seem like the best decision.

yet funnily enough the second kaveh contradicted himself, particularly when he stated the "i do not love you" part, something deep inside his stomach scrunches up viciously, so much it began to ache, as if his own body has caught him in a blatant lie, a big one at that, one he had ultimately hidden from even himself and he didn't realize until now.

yet, you rub your forehead, wishing you would've just ignored it and kept sucking the life out of his cock. although, you speak at last, a little overpowered, despite that keeping your cool.

"who says 'i love you' during a blowjob?"

you question but he didn't hear you, instead he did the unimaginable and made it worse, muttering the following to himself but loud enough so you could hear it, "or maybe i do love you."

"WHAT!"

— scaramouche + will stay in denial

"how's that?" scaramouche flaunts the brilliant smirk on his face as he taunts you, smacking his working hips against your cunt so fucking fast and strongly that the sound alone of your skin touching the other almost suffocates out your own moans and whines.

"—so good." you hiccup, the noises parting from your lips falling lower and lower, dripping with a high amount of lust and longing. and scaramouche certainly knew you were close, he can tell, immediately— after all, he's seen it plenty of times before, well, who knew having a fuck buddy could be so beneficial to him, he honestly didn't seem quite convinced in the beginning but grew into it relatively fast.

up till now at least, because for some reason, he cannot understand why he suddenly cares about how good he was fucking you, or if you're enjoying yourself wholly— if his hips were lurching forward correctly, if his thrusts were strong enough for you to desperately cry out his name or when the muscles in your core clench down for him to see literal, big, bright stars as you milk him dry with your pussy, taking him perfectly into your warm walls.

when did he start giving a single damn about you? obviously, not to be a completely malicious dick and an asshole— but it was fairly difficult for scaramouche to find meaningful, real relationships with another individual, and when you first hooked up with each other, it then repeating day by day as you ultimately decided to walk into this kind of relationship, hand in hand, he never once thought about catching any feelings for you, because quite frankly, he did not believe he was capable to produce such insolent emotions in the first place.

yet, there he was now, being happy and smiling from head to toe when you're affirming him, when he can make you cum on his cock before he was even allowed to cum himself.

because, here's the deal, he won't stop denying himself, not before you're climaxing all over his girth and soiling his skin with your liquids, until he can ease himself forward again and notices your tasty slick all over him as he's automatically wetting his lips at the sinful sight of your pussy clenching around, fucking himself into your cute, small entrance again that gnaws down onto every bump and ridge coating his entire shaft.

but no, again, he cannot possibly be in love with you, hah! those feelings, someone must be playing tricks on him, right?

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[macfrog]

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Brain rot brain rot brain rot

Summary: Sanguinus pins for someone he knows he cannot have; Horus’ lover.

Relationships: Onesided Sanguinius/Fem!Reader, Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Pining, Guilty wank, Masturbation, Sanguinius is in love with Horus' beloved and he's so torn about it, Does yanking one out to the thought of fucking your pseudo-brother's future wife qualify as a warning?

The door to Sanguinius' private chambers closes behind him with a heavy slam that shakes the wall, sending the Blood Angels outside to high alert. Sanguinius winces at how much he threw the door in his anger. Now they all know he's irritated. They’ll surely ask about it later, and he’ll have to brush it off or come up with some sort of excuse to keep his captains and commanders from worrying.

Rarely does Sanguinius let his gentle facade crack, but he couldn't help it. Not this time.

Sanguinius smiled as Horus approached him, a wide smile on the Warmaster's face. His expression was warm, pleased to see him.

"My brother! How are you?"

Horus came in close and raised his left hand, clapping Sanguinius' right shoulder and holding it there. Within moments the angel's face had faltered, as the sweet scent covering Horus' hand hit his nose.

It's you.

He smelled the gentle flowers of your perfume, the salt of your sweat, and overwhelming it all was the saccharine sweet scent of your cunt on his fingers.

Horus had pleasured you so recently, the bastard might have just done so and came to talk to him, while you were still panting in another room.

Sanguinius struggled to maintain his composure- as anger, loathing and jealously all heated to a boil within him. He had tried to ignore the obvious fact for months that Horus could touch you so intimately, unlike him. But to have it shoved in his face, to flaunt what he can't have, Sanguinius wanted to do nothing more than rip away his hand and shove Horus away from him.

Out of all of them, Horus was one of the few who actually seemed to enjoy the chatter, the parties and the diplomacy. At least outwardly; Horus has always been very good at hiding how he actually feels. So of course he would be the one out of all of them to find someone. You were the daughter of a lord, owning one of the galaxy's largest trading ports. Some of the materials needed to make rations for the astartes comes from your homeworld. It worked perfectly; Horus had closer command over the ability to feed his ever growing legion, and you both had fallen for each other like star crossed lovers.

If his relationship with you was purely transactional, diplomatic, Sanguinius could feel less guilt slipping between to steal a moment of your time. But he's barely spoken to you without Horus around. You smile at him politely and given him the proper respect; He's heard you utter his titles with only respect and reverence. All the while you stay latched to Horus' arm, the two of you deeply in love; And you none the wiser that an angel pins for you.

Why does he need you so badly? Is it because he knows he can't have you? Or because you speak so sweetly, and he sees the way you look at Horus and he wants that for himself. He’s wanted it since the first time Horus introduced you.

Sanguinius will never forget the day Horus proclaimed you his beloved, and he realized he was too late.

Sanguinus throws his weight down on the edge of his bed with a thud, it creaking and complaining under his abuse. The fabric of his clothing wrinkles underneath him, bunching upward. He puts his head in his hands, elbows digging into his thighs.

He sits in silence, the feathers of his wings tight and pulled close to his body, until he shifts his legs and groans at the feeling.

He's been avoiding thinking about it. Hoping it would go away. He can feel how hard he is against his thigh, the smell of you had triggered something deep within him that was uncontrollable.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Almost angrily Sanguinius pulls at his clothing to free his cock, and groans angrily at the way he'd already leaked against his thigh. His one hand still supports his head as he wraps the other around his shaft, with little gentleness or care. Unlike what he would imagine you would do- with the soft, delicate fingers of your own hands.

He would be so gentle with you; His hands would never bruise you, his fangs would never scar you. Unless you wanted those things, to have him treat you roughly. Then he would of course oblige.

His fist tightly slides along his cock, other hand pushing a chunk of hair from his face. His leaned posture makes a pocket of hot air in front of his face, flushing his skin. His hips nudge forward, trying to drive himself deeper into the warmth of own hand. His thumb brushes over the head of his cock, his slit, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip.

If he had done differently, would you be with him instead? He remembers shortly before you’d met Horus mentioning he needed to speak with planetary governors and Sanguinius had gave a pitying laugh; If he'd joined Horus, would things have changed? Would you be wearing gold and red instead of green?

Sanguinius groans, feeling his cock throb in his hand. It's working, he feels himself getting closer and closer stomach getting tighter, but it isn't what he wants. It will work, but he knows well that it won't leave him satisfied. if anything he'll feel more empty than he was before, until it eventually fades for more pressing matters.

But stars, if he closes his eyes tight enough, clenches his hand enough, he can just maybe imagine what it would feel like if it was you. It isn't warm enough, tight enough, wet enough, but he can just barely trick himself. The feeling of you underneath him, of him slowly trying to push his cock into you; It would barely fit but he's sure if he went slow, you could take it. Your legs would struggle to fit his hips between them, but you would try to open your legs as wide as possible just to fit him.

You would sound enchanting the entire time, he's sure of it. Your voice is so soft and sweet in comparison to the booming voices he's used to, he'd struggle not to be overwhelmed by your soft cries as he fucked you and pushed you to your limit. He knows you would already be so tight, but to feel your cunt tighten around him as you came he's sure he'd barely be able to handle it; His hand moving quicker over his cock as he loses himself in his own imagination.

He would fill you to the absolute brim until you mewled helplessly, stuffed full of his own cum and forced open by his cock. Afterwards you'd look up at him- only him. Maybe you'd beg him for more, asking your angel to fuck you again and again and again until you could barely walking without feeling his cum leak down your thighs, dripping from your sore little cunt.

Or maybe you'd raise a hand up, tuck a piece of hair behind his ear as his crown braids unraveled, before you hand gently brushed along the soft feathers of his wings. You'd smile again, maybe laugh, and speak his name. He's only heard you say it twice, every other time you've always called him Lord Primarch, and he has that moment seared into his memory.

"Thank you, Sanguinius."

The angel swears, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes the bitter iron of his own blood. His cock throbs and pulses as he finally cums on and over his hand, letting out an uncharacteristic moan at the feeling of overwhelming release as his hand continues to slide up and down his own cock to milk himself dry. He hadn't realized how long it had been since the last time he'd done this; He'd never felt much desire to until you.

Finally he dispels himself from his own memory and opens his eyes, instantly coming face to face with mess on the floor and staining his boots.

Sanguinius sighs. He is quite the angel.

He knows he should return to the Red Tear; They are due to depart and return to Baal. And you'll return with Horus to the Vengeful Spirit, laying in Horus' bed as the Warmaster kisses your skin, and not him.

Getting up he rustles his wings to right his feathers, adjusting his clothes. He finds something to clean the evidence of his shame away and then once he's done, he leaves his quarters to go pretend he is happy for Horus once more.

[yanderestarangel]

Possessive sex with the Lin Kuei trio (separated) hc plssss

— 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌?" | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— TW : afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, rough sex, extreme sex, v!sex, possessive sex, toxic relationship, exhibitionism.

ੈ✩ 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 ੈ✩

He is very insecure by nature, losing his entire family in the blink of an eye messed with some of Tomas's screws, making him possessive and afraid of losing you, whether literally or sentimentally. He will always ask you if you still love him or if you still want him to be your boyfriend, it always ends with Vrbada fucking you while crying insecurely holding you closer and closer to him as he begs for more and more of you.

Never flirt with anyone, he will suffer too much and even cry when he gets home, he won't accept your excuses, only getting sicker for you, he would assert his dominance over your body. He's a sub! But that changes when you decide to make him jealous, whether on purpose or not.

— reason for jealousy: You were flirting with someone else.

"-Do you want to play (Y/N)?" -He growled, his voice filled with a dangerous tone. "-Alright. You will learn that defying me only brings punishment."

Tomas' control over you has been sealed. "-You will submit to me... You will beg for my forgiveness and obey my every command. No more defiance you fucking slut. Take your punishment like a good boy/ girl." -With a quick and strong movement, Tomas laid you down on the cold kitchen table, the hard wood beneath your back sending shivers of pleasure and discomfort throughout your body. He played with his dick at the entrance to your wet pussy, squeezing your breast tighter.

The feeling of the cold table beneath you, the pain mixed with pleasure, only served to increase your arousal.

"-Who do you belong to?" -Vrbada demanded, in a commanding tone.

"-Say it. Say you're mine and no one else's." -Tomas screamed in anger and fury, as he pushed his dick further into your uterus, he cried, thick tears stained his cheeks as his smoke magic circulated around his entire body, suffocating you one little, leaving you even more dizzy with desire and submission, a dangerous submission.

"-Were you looking for another dick, someone to fuck you better than your husband?" -Tomas shouted between moans, not accepting your apology, slapping your face several times while he hit you harder, he was upset, and didn't want to hide his emotions anymore, you felt pain, pleasure but mainly regret for having flirted with someone else, leaving him insecure, now he was inconsolable, while his cock filled you completely. With a final, powerful thrust, he released his hot seed into your pussy, marking you as his submissive, he pulled out minutes later from inside you, he didn't sleep at home that night.

ੈ✩ 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 ੈ✩

Never provoke this man... Never.

Bi Han doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings, causing him to lose control much faster and take it out on anyone he finds in his path, whether it's you or not.

Bi Han is controlling, to the maximum, even choosing the clothes you leave the house with, if you want to walk around naked in the house, you can, in his eyes and only his, he even encourages you, never outside the house. And if you do, Bi Han will punish you in many ways and his favorite is sexual.

— reason for jealousy: you wore short clothes on purpose to provoke him.

"-What do you think you're doing, parading around like that? You're just asking for trouble, aren't you? Trying to provoke me?" -He clenched his fists, clearly struggling to control his emotions. "-Well, congratulations. You've succeeded. You've managed to make me exceptionally angry and undeniably turned on. Happy now?" -Bi Han stepped even closer, his tone low and menacing.

"-But let me be clear, little one. You may think you're being clever by flaunting yourself like this, but it won't work. I won't let you manipulate me with your little games. I'm not some weak-willed fool."

Without a moment's hesitation, he seized you by the wrist and roughly threw you to the ground. You landed with a thud, your dress tearing under the force. Before you could react, his hand connected with your cheek, a sharp sting spreading across your skin. "-You think you can find someone better than me, little slut? That's quite bold of you." -As he continued to choke you, his grip tight on your neck, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dangerously erotic. "-You want to play games, my sweet whore? Then let's play. But remember, I always win."

With a rough push, he positioned himself between your thighs, spreading them wide. There was an intense pleasure-pain sensation as he forcefully entered you, stretching and filling you completely. "-Fuck... You're so tight. You think someone else could handle you like I do? No one can make you feel this good."

He grabbed your neck with all his strength, his grip on your throat tightened even more, his eyes shining with anger and desire as he drilled into you. "-You think you're so smart, don't you? Challenging me like this... Well, let me show you how pathetic you really are." With every word, he thrusts into you hard and deep, his pace quickening, the force of his movements echoed the anger and frustration he felt because of you, his thrusts became faster, more intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin.

But he had no intention of giving you what you wanted so easily. "-Oh, my sweet little slut, do you want more? But you still haven't learned your lesson. Let's see how far you're willing to go."

ੈ✩ 𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 ੈ✩

Kuai Liang is a very self-assured man, but at the same time, he has problems with trusting people and that includes you too. Always following you to places, regardless of whether he is doing something important or not. Kuai will be your slightly possessive husband, asking you where you were going, who you were going with and what to do. But he wasn't going to fully expose his jealousy to you, just gritting his teeth and feeling his fingertips create sparks of anger, but he wasn't going to say anything, which made you question if he was jealous of you, so, you had the Bad idea to provoke him on purpose, sitting on your friend's lap, and smiling seductively at them, which made Kuai Liang finally explode with anger and possession.

— reason for jealousy :

"-Do you think I would let anyone else have you?" -Kuai Liang growled, he had your friend pinned to the chair, tied with ropes as he fucked you in front of them "-You are mine, this pussy is mine, and I will mark you as mine over and over again. No one else can touch you, just me."

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of his gaze reflecting a mix of emotions.

Anger, jealousy, and fear danced behind his eyes, showing his desperate need to keep you close, to assert his dominance over you. He thrusts his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside you, pleasure coursing through your body. He moans again, this time louder, as he begins to establish a rhythm, his thrusts were strong and aggressive, this time, your dear and kind husband didn't care about anything other than his pleasure, Kuai's eyes danced furiously between your pussy and your friend, who watched everything terrified, while Kuai Liang grabbed your neck, giving you a powerful armbar, your wet pussy continued to drip, proof of your excitement and need for more.

"-You're nothing more than a slut, a toy begging for my touch." -Liang mocked, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. "-You can't cum until I tell you to. You can't feel pleasure without my permission. Remember that, my little slut."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[sayokoni]

The weight of hatred

Summary: The reader is assigned as Toji Zenin’s maid in the hostile Zenin estate. Despite his indifference and the clan’s hate for him, she continues to serve him, gradually softening the distance between them.

Warnings: Abuse (towards Toji </3), Neglect, hostile environment, Master and servant relationship, some insult, a little cursing ( please let me know if I forget smt:p )

Word count: 2,9k

“Go away.”

“Piece of shit.”

“You were a mistake.”

“Just die already.”

These were the words Toji had heard every day, without fail, from members of his own clan. They didn’t even bother to hide their hatred for him. It didn’t matter if he was minding his own business, if he was sleeping, or even if he was on the verge of death—those hateful looks and venomous words never disappeared. It was as if they had made it their mission to make him feel like he didn’t belong here, like he was a burden that needed to be removed.

Even when he was silent and still, lost in his own thoughts or resting in solitude, he could feel their eyes on him, full of disgust. It was a constant, oppressive weight, one that had been with him since the moment he was born into this cruel world.

At first, it stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. But over the years, he had learned to accept it. There was no point in fighting it. He couldn’t change their minds, and he couldn’t change the way they treated him. So he did the only thing he could—he grew numb. He shut off his emotions, buried them deep, and let the bitterness and hatred wash over him like a storm he couldn’t escape.

It was never going to stop. Toji had long since accepted that. The hatred would stay with him until the day he died, and maybe even beyond that. So he learned to live with it, because it was the only thing he could do.

“Hey, scum, get up. There’s a family meeting, and they want everyone there” came the sharp, voice of one of the clan members.

Toji glanced up for a moment but said nothing. What he wanted to say—what burned at the back of his throat—was a simple “Fuck off.” But he didn’t. He hadn’t said things like that in years.

What was the point? Fighting back wouldn’t help. If anything, it would only make things worse for him. It always did. Besides, how much worse could it get? They already treated him like garbage, like a parasite they couldn’t quite get rid of.

He’d endured it all before. The insults, the starvation, the endless punishments—they had tried to break him in every way they could think of. And maybe they had succeeded. Toji couldn’t remember the last time he felt something other than anger or emptiness. Nothing they did now could hurt him in the same way again.

So he didn’t fight back, didn’t argue, didn’t let them see even a flicker of defiance. Instead, he simply stood up, his movements slow and steady ,as if the weight of his existence was too much to bear.

There was no purpose in resisting.

So he would simply continue existing, waiting for death to eventually claim him.

“The Zenin clan has seen remarkable growth over the past years,” one of the elders announced proudly during the meeting. His voice carried an air of smugness that got on Toji’s nerves. “Our clan is wealthy, and we can count many young members who show great promise as future fighters. To honor our success, we shall hold a grand festival. We will celebrate with lots of food, entertainment, and, of course, buy us more maids, concubines, and whatever else our hearts desire.”

Toji sat in the corner of the room, arms crossed, listening to their self-congratulatory speeches with growing disgust. They dragged him here for this? To pat themselves on the back and flaunt their arrogance in front of one another? His jaw tightened as he clenched his fists under the table.

So full of themselves. So unbearably self-satisfied. It made him sick to his stomach.

He barely kept himself from walking out of the room, the bitterness rising in his chest. But leaving would only draw attention to himself, and thats the last thing he wanted. Instead he sat there, angry and annoyed, just waiting for it to end.

A total of 150 maids and concubines had been brought into the Zenin clan, with about two-thirds serving as maids and the rest as concubines. You were one of the ordinary maids, without any special abilities or talents. You could cook, clean, sew, and perform all the duties expected of a maid.

When you were first informed that you would be sold to the Zenin clan, you weren’t exactly thrilled. Everyone knew of their reputation—stories of their cruelty spread like wildfire. Rumors spoke of the clan’s heartless nature, where torture and punishment were part of their daily routine. It was said they wouldn’t even spare their own blood if someone dared to step out of line.

These rumors made your stomach turn, but there was no escaping your fate. You were just a maid, with no power or influence to change what was to come.

You were led through the grand gates of the Zenin estate, your heart heavy with each step. The towering walls, the grand buildings, the shiny floors—they all seemed to shine with wealth and power, but you knew the truth. Everything here was built on blood, pain, and suffering. The estate, with its beautiful designs and expensive materials, was a place that felt like it had been soaked in tragedy. Each corner seemed to hold a dark history, a reminder of the cruelty that ran deep within the Zenin clan. The luxury surrounding you felt oppressive, like it was closing in on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that all this wealth had come at the cost of many lives, and you were now a part of it, trapped in a world that didn’t care about you or anyone else. The beauty around you seemed fake, as though it was trying to cover up the darkness beneath.

You had been told your duties would be simple—serve your assigned master, follow orders, and keep your head down. Do what you were told, and perhaps you’d avoid the wrath of the clan. At first, you were relieved. A life of servitude seemed like the easiest path in such a cruel world. But then they told you who you’d be serving.

Toji Zenin.

The name sent a chill down your spine, even though you had never met him. You had heard whispers from the other maids, their voices full of fear and disgust. “The clan’s black sheep,” they called him. “A man despised even by his own blood.” They said he was dangerous, violent, a man who had no loyalty or care for anyone around him. Rumors painted him as a monster—cruel, silent, and detached, a living weapon with a heart as cold as stone.

But when you first saw him, fear didn’t take hold of you like you expected. Instead, there was something else, something you couldn’t quite understand. His presence was overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His tall, broad figure stood like a constant reminder of his strength, yet there was a certain defiance in the way he carried himself. Despite that, it wasn’t his size or strength that caught your attention. It was his eyes. They held something you hadn’t expected to see—something that surprised you. They were filled with exhaustion, a deep bitterness, and an overwhelming weariness. It was as if his eyes told a story, one of a man who had suffered countless wounds, both physical and emotional, and who had been broken only to be forced to rebuild himself again. The world had shaped him into something harsh, and it showed in the way he looked at everything around him, as though he was tired of it all.

“Hey, scum. This is your personal maid,” a clan member said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You only get one because you’re not worth more.”

Toji barely spared you a glance, his eyes sweeping over you without any hint of interest. His gaze was flat, almost as if he was looking right through you. He didn’t seem to care at all about the fact that you were now his servant.

“Be grateful you even get this,” the clan member sneered, his words sharp as he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in front of Toji’s chambers.

You didn’t know what to say. The air between you felt thick with discomfort, and you stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react. Before you could find your voice, Toji turned back to you, his expression distant.

“Do whatever you want,” he said in a low, uncaring tone. “I don’t have a use or need for a maid.” He gave you one last glance, a look that held no emotion, then turned and walked into his chambers without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing there, frozen, as his words echoed in your mind.

You felt the weight of his indifference settle in your chest. He wasn’t cruel—no, that would have been easier to bear. He simply didn’t care. You were nothing to him, a tool he had no use for, and that truth stung deeper than any insult could have.

THE NEXT DAY

You were one of the first to wake up this morning, ready to serve your assigned master, despite the fact that Toji had made it very clear that he didn’t need you, that you were nothing more than another burden in his life. But still, you did your duty without complaint.

The moment, as you walked into the kitchen to collect his meal, something felt off. When you approached the counter, your heart sank. The tray set aside for Toji was a mess. The food was burned, charred to the point where it almost looked inedible. The smell was Insufferable, a burnt odor that made your stomach turn. The sight of it sent a wave of confusion through you, but then, reality set in.

Toji wasn’t liked by anyone here—he was a black sheep, treated with hate by his own people. They loathed him, and it was clear they would never give him anything of quality. He was nothing more than an inconvenience to them. The meal you were expected to bring him wasn’t food; it was a punishment. A way for them to make him feel more isolated. You felt a wave of sympathy for him, but it was quickly replaced by the cold reminder that you were just a maid. This was your job.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the tray. Should you bring him this burnt, inedible mess? It wasn’t right, but you had no choice. It was your responsibility to deliver it. So, with a deep breath, you forced yourself to pick up the tray, the weight of it heavier than you expected, though it wasn’t from the food itself.

You walked down the long hallway. When you reached Toji’s chambers, you knocked softly on the door, but there was no response. You waited a moment, thinking he might overheard it but still there was no sound coming from the other side of the room.

You knocked again, this time with a little more force, but still no answer. Your nerves were on edge now. You could leave the tray and go, but that felt like an insult. No, you had to face him, had to do your duty.

You took a deep breath and gathered all the courage you could muster. “Master Toji?” you said, your voice wavering slightly despite your best efforts. “I’ve come to bring you your breakfast..I’m coming in now.”

With those words, you pushed the door open, stepping into the room. The silence in the air was oppressive, thick with an unspoken tension. The room was dark, the only light coming from a crack in the curtains. Toji was seated by the window, his back to you. His posture was rigid, like he was trying to escape from everything around him, even the world outside.

You moved towards a small table, carefully setting the tray down. The food was a mess—an insult, really—but you said nothing. You didn’t want to draw attention to it. But as you turned to leave, you felt his gaze on you. It wasn’t warm, not in the least, but it wasn’t dismissive either. For a split second, you wondered if he would say something—anything—but instead, he just sighed, his voice low and weary.

“You can go now” he said, his tone cold, no emotions in it. nothing.

You nodded, not daring to say another word, and turned to leave. The door closing softly behind you.

By lunchtime, your heart felt heavier than ever in your life. When you went to collect Toji’s meal, you saw the same miserable excuse for food sitting on the tray. Burned, poorly prepared, and clearly made with nothing but contempt. It wasn’t just negligence—it was deliberate. They hated him so much that they wouldn’t even let him have a proper meal.

You carried the lunch tray to his chambers, knowing full well what you’d find. And sure enough, when you entered his room, the untouched breakfast tray was still sitting where you’d left it. The food was cold, and entirely inedible. Toji hadn’t even bothered to glance at it. He remained by the window as always, quiet and detached, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

You placed the new tray beside the old one, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration well up inside you. How could anyone survive like this? How long had he endured being treated like this? The indignity of it all was suffocating, and yet Toji didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at you, as if this treatment was something he’d long since accepted.

As dinnertime arrived, you couldn’t take it anymore. When you went to the kitchens to fetch his evening meal, the sight of yet another tray of disgusting food—burnt beyond recognition, the smell alone turning your stomach—was the last straw. You stood there for a moment, staring at it, your hands trembling with anger. Enough was enough.

Making sure no one was watching, you grabbed the tray and hurried to a quiet corner of the estate where no one would see you. There, you dumped the entire tray into a bin, the sound of the wasted food falling away feeling oddly liberating. You straightened up, your heart pounding. What if someone found out? What if they saw you? But you shook the thoughts away. You couldn’t let him be treated like this anymore.

You made your way to the storage room, slipping inside as quietly as you could. The shelves were lined with ingredients—fresh produce, spices, meats, and grains—all untouched and far too luxurious to be wasted on someone they despised. You hesitated for only a moment before gathering what you needed. You couldn’t do much, but you could at least give him a meal that was edible, something that didn’t reek like death .

Back in the kitchen, you worked quickly and silently, your hands moving with purpose. You prepared a simple but hearty meal, seasoning it with care and making sure everything was cooked perfectly. The smell of the food was comforting, filling the small space with warmth. For the first time since arriving at the Zenin estate, you felt like you were doing something right.

Once the meal was finished, you carefully placed it on a tray and covered it, sneaking away from the kitchen with the same caution as before. Your heart raced as you made your way to Toji’s chambers, every shadow and sound making you jump. If anyone caught you, there would be hell to pay. But you didn’t care. Not anymore.

When you reached his room, you knocked softly, not expecting an answer. As usual, there was only silence. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Toji was sitting by the window, as always, but this time, he glanced over his shoulder at you, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly when he saw the tray in your hands. You set it down on the table without a word, your hands shaking slightly. For a moment, you thought about explaining yourself, about telling him what you’d done, but the words caught in your throat.

“I brought your dinner,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toji didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the tray, and then on you, as if trying to figure out what you were playing at. Finally, he let out a low hum, his expression unreadable.

“Did you make this?” he asked, his voice rough but quieter than usual.

You nodded, your palms clammy. “Yes. I thought… I thought you might like something different.”

He said nothing for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. Then, with a faint shrug, he leaned back in his chair and gestured toward the door. “Leave it. You can go now.”

You hesitated, unsure if he was going to eat or simply let this meal go to waste like the others. But you couldn’t press him, not now. You nodded and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind you.

Later that night, when you returned to collect the tray, your heart sank as you prepared yourself to see the food untouched again. But when you stepped inside and saw the empty plates, your breath caught. He had eaten it. Every last bite.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the empty tray, your chest tightening with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. You couldn’t tell if this small victory meant anything to him, but it meant something to you. For the first time since arriving at the Zenin estate, you felt like you’d done something that mattered.

Thanks for reading <3

[lonelystarrs]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬 .prt 1

𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Suguru was the calm and Satoru was the storm, you either had to learn to sail the sea or abandon ship. Either way it wasn’t going to be easy.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI • smut • hurt/comfort • poly relationship • Angst • potential part two if this gets enough attention • cum play • semi public exposure • f/m only but read it how you want •

In all honesty you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this situation, it was all a blur and it all happened so fast that it was difficult to think about specific moments on how you’d gotten involved with Gojo and Geto like this.

The only stages you remembered was returning back to Japan, back to Jujustu Tech and Suguru becoming part of your life again.

Knowing him since you were both young, separating to grow up on difference sides of the planet and him taking you under his wing when you came back.

Everything always felt so calm, so natural with him and he’d grown up too well, dark locks tied into bun with that stray lock you just wanted to twirl around your finger. He was beautiful.

The chaos soon arrived in the form of Satoru Gojo, who seemed to hate you at first —at least it felt like that, always rolling his eyes, flippant towards you in ways that made you feel he hated you. Trying to avoid having you around Geto, acting like you weren’t really needed when he was there. It wasn’t until he started whining about you taking up too much of Suguru’s time did you realise that it wasn’t hate.

It was jealousy.

Blue eyes would watch with an expression you couldn’t quite pick apart, but the conflict in them were obvious.

So to get back at him with his shitty, annoyingly childishly behaviour you’d flirt harder with Suguru, physically be with him in ways that made Gojo shut the fuck up and sulk.

However, Satoru wasn’t easily defeated, Suguru wasn’t giving up on you either and it didn’t take him long to come to a resolve that he should be allowed into the scenario.

He should be allowed to share.

He’d push his dessert towards Suguru and you, suggesting that you shared it with him because he was selfless and willing to split something in enjoyed between you all.

Then asking if you both wanted to try his lollypop he’d been sucking on.

Apparently you were both supposed to understand his underlining messages in his weird attempt to suggesting that you should be shared.

It was how you became an object for them, they didn’t word it like that but it was how you were starting to feel lately.

Just something in the middle of them to hold the balance because the bridge between them was rocky at times. You brought together what they couldn’t, Satoru’s conflicting closeness for Suguru disappeared with you.

Truthfully it started fine, but the distance started to form when you’d catch Satoru with other girls flirting and numbers stuffed into his pockets.

It didn’t make sense, why ask to be part of something then continue to seemingly keep his options open?

It stirred something heavy, yet hollow in your chest that surged through your veins until a voice was screaming at you to distance yourself from them. It made you question the entire situation and perhaps it wasn’t as serious to them as you thought.

You weren’t officially theirs and clearly they weren’t yours, at least nothing ever official was spoken about, Satoru still flaunting himself eagerly was proof of that and it only solidified your assumptions as of late.

You didn’t feel like theirs, no matter how many times they chanted ownership over you before post nut clarity hit painfully.

There’s only so many times that delusion can work her magic and it was starting to fade into the harsh reality that this wasn’t healthy —it wasn’t going to end well and your natural defence was to try create some distance. Hoping they’d find something else to keep them entertained and just let you fizzle out, it avoided communication sure, but it meant you didn’t have to hear that this was nothing but sex.

But distance was near impossible to achieve with Gojo Satoru involved, he was needy and his tongue circled your clit in a way that made your mind blank, knocking the heavy doubt from your chest. Your heart pounding in your ribs as he gripped your hips so tightly you knew they’d bruise.

He was eating you out with such desperation you’d think his life was dependant on it, you could hear him damn well slurping, sucking and it was lewd. Usually he teased, taunted or took his time but he was borderline feral as he messily ate you out today, it was uncoordinated with no pattern.

The only thing silencing you was Suguru’s cock pushing further down your throat until he felt that restraint of muscle pop to let his dick through. He balanced himself by pressing his hands to the desk under you on either side of your ribs, no longer needing them to guide his dick.

A long airy moan of relief leaving him feeling your throat around him, precum smeared across your lips and chin because he’d been lightly tapping his cock there to ask for access.

This was supposed to be a simple mission split between you all, it was easier to divide and take down the three curses residing here.

You were supposed to go report to the Yaga after this, not taking any longer than needed but the curtain was still up. Gojo and you dealing with your targets first, him pushing you towards a desk in the abandoned classroom until Geto appeared. Sliding the door open to watch as his fellow strongest buried his face between your legs.

“You’re too greedy, Satoru.” Suguru breathed a moan as he half leaned over your body on the desk, pushing his cock to the hilt and you gagged a bit. He was watching as Satoru’s openly tongued your clit and swirled it, spit and slick mixing into a glisten covering his mouth. Your hips trying to roll but larger hands held you down, firmly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

Satoru had turned the chair in front to face the desk you were on, literally taking a seat to eat. His thumbs rubbing in circles over your thighs as they twitched and tried to tighten.

“She tastes s’good though,” he slurred against you giving a particularly rough swirl with his tongue, “-she’s cum s’much as well.”

Blue eyes finally looked up only to see your head tilted back on the desk, Suguru’s hands planted either side of your ribs as he leaned over you and his cock bulging down your throat. Gojo moaned into you as he watched it flex in you.

“Shit, Suguru I can see your dick in her throat, she’s takin’ it so well.” Gojo moaned against you, lips moving against your pussy with each letter, pushing his fingers into the hilt and spreading them inside you. Pressing his tongue flat against you as he spread you open, licking a thick strip up past your clit until he was making his way up your body.

He stopped when he reach your throat that bulged with Suguru’s cock. Pressing his lips to it for a kiss, before pressing his tongue against it, Suguru’s hand moved up to grip his white hair encouraging him to press his tongue harder against it.

“Yeah? Feel it Satoru?”

He flexed his cock down your throat again, purposely this time as if to physically aid his question, the movement felt against Gojo’s tongue causing him to moan and nod his head. Fingers leaving you he fisted his own dick for a few pumps before he pressed the thick tip to your entrance.

“Hey, you good?” Suguru’s soothing voice filtered through the arousal, bringing some clarity before Gojo made his move.

Geto pulled his hips back, giving you the opportunity to inhale as he watched your chest heave, the spit linking from his cock to your tongue until it broke. Gojo’s hands placed either side of your hips as he angled his hips, pressing his thick head to spread your entrance.

Geto always being the more observant one, took in your condition, ribs heaving to bring in more air to your lungs, eyes dazed and glazed over, your body twitching as Satoru inched his way past your tight hole.

“Hold it Satoru-“ Suguru’s hands cupped the back of your head gently making you lean up to meet his eyes. Your name leaving his lips so smoothly it almost made you groan, it was enough to focus your eyes back on his and a small smile twitched at his mouth looking down at you past his cock.

“Welcome back,” humming in response to Suguru you shifted, rolling your hips so Satoru inched himself in further, his fingers curling into a fist either side of your hips against the desk beneath you as he exhaled pushing himself forward. His mouth hung ajar as he fixed his eyes on the side of his dick disappearing into your cunt with a wet sound, seeing you spread to accommodate him.

“S-shit, pretty you’re so tight. It hurting to take this big cock? Feels like it,” Satoru’s charming taunt with a groan only made you tighten around him and his hips stuttered, airy moan leaving him mixed with a chuckle.

You shifted uncomfortably as you stood in front of Yaga at Jujustu Tech to report back on the mission.

The discomfort was due to Satoru having stolen your panties claiming he’d lost them and you feeling the warmth leaking down your legs as your body hummed in a pleasant ache.

It didn’t match the hollow feeling in your chest now the high from sex had left.

Satoru found it hilarious as mixed cum had started to dribble down your legs and you tried to squeeze your thighs together to stop it, worried someone would see. He casually leaned down, those gangly ass arms of his easily reaching the back of your thigh, only to push it back up your legs, past your skirt to your pussy and back in your swollen hole from behind.

Your hips lurched forward and a strangled noise left you. Suguru stood slightly in front of you and held his hand out behind him to support you.

“What is wrong with her?” Yaga questioned, attention drifting to see you with your head down hidden behind Suguru.

“Nothing, she got injured but she’s fine.” Suguru covered for you both, keeping his calm facade up as he stared forward to answer the questions.

Satoru leaned forward, his lips grazed your ear as he whispered.

“Eh? Don’t waste it, told you to keep it all in didn’t I? C’mon you were so good for us earlier.”

“What was that, Gojo?”

“Nothin’ I’m just makin’ sure she’s okay!”

“Can uh-“ you cleared your throat as the words came out choked, Satoru’s finger leaving you to place his hand on the small of your back, “-can I go home now if we’re done?”

“Nah, gotta go see Shoko before I can take you back.”

“Gojo I wanna go home, I’m fine. Just need to rest.”

The six eyes pouted at your use of his last name, taking a more formal approach with him compared to earlier, quickly masking it by swinging an arm over your shoulders unable to read the actual mood, Suguru however had noticed.

He seen you tense when the six eyes arm embraced you, pulling you into his side playfully and grinning like nothing was wrong.

It didn’t make sense, how could you flinch like it made you uncomfortable? It’s a stark difference considering they were just the two guys that had fucked you in an abandoned school.

“Oh yeah? Fine, I’ll drop ya back then!”

Your eyes widened realising what he was about to do and Suguru only heard half your sentence before you were cut off, disappearing as Satoru teleported you back to your home.

Left to stare at the spot you both were, with a small frown on his face.

Since when did you start looking uncomfortable around them?

“You boys are around her a lot. Is there something you need to tell me, Suguru?”

Satoru didn’t just drop you back and leave —of course he didn’t.

He’d teleported right into your dorm room, hands grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up to his waist.

Lips pressing wetly against your neck as he left sloppy kisses in his path, walking towards your bed before dumping you on it with a bounce.

“Gojo-“

His knee separated yours, knocking them apart and he groaned as his eyes peered over the rims of his glasses to look at your poor swollen pussy, cum leaking from it.

“Damn, that’s- shit that’s so hot.” Blue eyes fixated on you leaving you to feel a little self conscious and you tried to close your legs, repeating his name.

Satoru clicked his tongue, eyes leaving to meet up with yours.

“Gojo?” He repeated, some cocky smirk twitching at his lips “-c’mon it’s Toru to you, you forgot already huh? Well, I guess I have time to remind you.”

It was hard to ignore the pulses to your clit, throbbing to be touched again when he pulled open his uniform, seeing your nail marks still down his sides from earlier, the outline of his cock hard under his trousers that slapped up against his six pack when he released it.

Wrapping a hand around himself he fucked his fist for you, his mouth falling agape slightly his hips twitching from still being sensitive.

He never done anything alone with you, in fact Suguru never had either it was always both of them, never one alone and it made your heart kick against your ribs.

His patience ran its course and he leaned forward to rip your shirt off in one clean motion, buttons flying across the room. Hand pressing to your shoulder he pushed you back to lean onto your elbows as he crawled onto the bed, your knees automatically rising to his sides tucking under his armpits.

Gojo rubbed his cock against your clit, your hands reaching up to remove his glasses from his face and discard them to the side.

The stretch hurt, pussy still sore from taking them both earlier but it was almost forgotten with how deeply Satoru looked into your eyes as he filled you again.

“S’it, you’re taking it so well pretty girl-“ his praise was unusual, it wasn’t so direct like this and you hated how it made you clench around him, how he made your heart flutter in your chest, “-oh? You like the praise huh? A praise and degradation kink? Think we hit the jackpot with you hmm?”

He laughed when you clenched around him again, burying himself to the hilt he snuggled in his face into your neck, panting against your skin his voice moany as he spoke.

“Our girl,” he mumbled, rotating his hips in a swirl that had you crying out, “-ours.”

He stayed so close to you, it was almost loving, but you couldn’t be sure because Satoru had never slept with you without Suguru. But it felt loving, every thrust was slow but hard, your body jolting with each thrust as his sticky balls slapped against your ass. His kisses so wet and sloppy between moaning against your skin.

“You -hah- you have any fucking idea how good you feel? Still full of our cum? Oh damn, it’s so hot knowing I’m using it to fuck ya -you’re filth.“

You cried out to him as you came, babbling into his shoulder pathetically because it was all too much, tears spilled from your eyes as you hung onto him for dear life.

Scared of falling into the overwhelming emotion that started to course through you, that doubt in him starting to wash away with each loving thrust, each word of praise against your skin.

Those feelings you tried to bury for him, tried to avoid surfaced as he kissed your tears away praising you further over the wet squelching of his cock fucking into you.

“It’s so damn sloppy,” He whined into your neck as his thrusts started turning sloppy and desperate, a delay between each hard slap.

When he came again it was hard, he whined in a way you’d never heard and his body stuttered above you, losing his strength to hold himself up as he let himself almost flop onto you. Panting into your ear as his hips jolted, pressed up to your hips as his cock flexed inside you, cum somehow still spitting out his dick into your cunt filling you again.

“I’m still damn cumin’ -fuck.”

Lifting your hips your rotated them and clenched around him, only making his body stutter —struggling to fight the overstimulation and he bit down onto your neck to the point of breaking the skin and leaving a bloody mark.

When the dust settled you didn’t find yourself crashing as usual, the usual high of being with them both remained as his loving behaviour suddenly gave you a hint of faith —maybe this could work. Maybe you needed to spend time with them alone to build something more meaningful because this felt different.

Gojo rolled over onto his back uncaring about the mess on him, you or what was now staining your sheets, a heavy sigh leaving him.

“Heyyy, you’re too far away,” he whined a little at the end, patting the space next to him and you ignored that feeling of flight trying to surface, you went to him and pressed against his side.

Everything started to feel right, to feel calm until that vibrate of a phone buzzed into the floor where Gojo had left his pants.

“Baaaaabe, make it stop.”

“It’s probably important Gojo, you should answer it.”

“Gojo again? You really like winding me up huh?” He playfully pinched at your nipple which made you laugh, beaming a goofy grin at you, blue eyes glistening watching your reaction before rolling them as the phone started to ring yet again.

“If you get it, I’ll answer it deal?”

“You too weak to get up? Thought you were the strongest,”

“Mmm, it appears I have been defeated by vagina, worth it though, she takes me like a champ.”

You cringed at him which earned you a cackle, shifting off the bed you hooked your foot under his trousers to pull it to you and grab it, shuffling the material until you found his phone that vibrated as a new text bar came through.

Your heart falling to the floor just like the bit of crumpled paper with a number also from is pocket that pulled out with the phone. A little love heart drawn next to the name and the same girls name lighting up the screen of his phone in texts next to notifications of Suguru’s missed calls.

All that hope, the comfort of finally starting to feel positive about this again, all crushed within the space of ten minutes. A short high lived only to plummet to the floor like a star dying out from the sky.

Between them, it wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t somewhere you could stay.

And you knew what you had to do.

©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

Part two is up for debate! -I won’t be doing a tagging system so please don’t ask, hitting the follow button will be your way of keeping updated :) don’t just comment asking for a part two without leaving any feedback —if you demand for part two without any effort back don’t be surprised if you’re met with a dry response or none. It’s rude.

If you reblog please leave some feedback or words/tags… it really means a lot & inspires us to write more! <3 I read every one and it makes us feel part of something after the time it all takes! :)

[saintzweig]

wait i have an idea for a fic… what if patrick met a girl just (if not more) heartless than him? he usually just blows girls off, left and right because he’s uninterested in anything more than a hookup. yet, this one was different. he was actually into her and wanted to see where things could go. to his surprise, she would blow him off. make excuses not to see him because she was “busy” with school or work. when in reality, she was busy entertaining herself with other people.. going on dates and flaunting over the stuff they would treat her to. posting it on her socials and not caring to acknowledge that he would see it. so one day, he finally decides to confront her about her bullshit in person.

patrick meeting someone who's as red flag and non-committal as him, what goes around comes back around!!! he's hooked up with some (a lot of) girls, treating them how boyfriends would without actually being their boyfriend then refusing when they ask for more than that. this definitely earned him the title of mr. situationship on campus. he's the type of person who only wants to have fun, where's the fun in being tied down?

that was until you. the two of you met at some random frat house art invited him to, immediately hitting it off by the kitchen island filled with alcohol drinks. you two had similar personalities– the same humor and outlook in life. the two of you hooked up for the first time that night, drunk on some disgusting punch that someone definitely spiked. the sex felt like heaven, you touched him in places that no one ever bothered to. always being the one to give, he was surprised and more than pleased that you wanted to take the lead.

it transformed into something more consistent and casual, friends with benefits if you will. showing up at each other's door when you need to blow off some steam or reward yourself with pleasure.

until patrick started feeling nervous, suddenly wanting to impress you and prove himself to you. which he thought was unnecessary because this was all casual, right? he started tidying himself up, getting rid of girls on his roster, he even lit candles when you would come over– you knew what this mean, this wasn't what you agreed on.

so you start blowing him off, telling him you have too much on your plate at the moment. in reality, you're scared because you know he wants more and you know you can't give it to him. it was the same thing he told you about himself some time ago, surely he'd understand, right? and to take your mind off it, you start going out more. you post photos of yourself sitting on someone's lap at a party, having dinner dates or photos of yourself in someone's car– patrick would always be the first one to see it.

he showed up at your door one night, visibly drunk. as soon as you opened it, he immediately started telling you how much he misses you, how much he wants you for himself, how much he's willing to do better for you. but he wasn't the problem, you don't doubt that he can do that– you doubt that you can. but he's adamant, saying it doesn't matter, he promises to change your mind about him and your relationship. you've never seen him like this before, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with yearning.

so you step aside, letting him in. he took this as your answer, that you're opening up and willing to give it a try. what better way to start your new relationship off than pushing you onto your bed and eating the fuck out of you in a way that you'll only be able to receive from him? it's definitely working with the way you're arching your back and pulling on his curls.

[reveluving]

you know what I just thought of? Shy wife is used to going to neighbour cookouts and gatherings alone since Graves is often away. She gets hit on quite a bit but always reminds everyone she’s very happily married (I mean haven’t they seen the rock on her finger?)

Then one day she finally shows up with Phil at one of those gatherings and he’s so confident his relationship with her, he can’t help but laugh at those guys cause he knows she only has eyes for him 😌 (he prolly proceeds to fuck her within an inch of her life lbr)

Also completely unrelated but shy wife getting a tiny discreet tattoo of his initials or their last name, and he discovers it while fucking her after getting back from a mission

-🍬

*Rubbing my hands together like a villain* I kicked my feet in the air the second I received this!!! You, my dearest, are a MASTERMIND 🙏🏼😩

Includes: brief smut at the end (minors DNI!), petnames (‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty girl’), mentions of possessive!phil, you get a lil’ tatt for him, slight humour & loads of fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Whether you’d like to imagine it while you’re Phil’s wife or fiancée, I’d like to imagine the latter more, since engagement rings tend to look more upscale than wedding bands. So imagine the immediate (but not enough) sting one would feel as soon as they boldly come up to you, hoping for a chance. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the large diamond cut around your finger, twinkling even at the smallest movements. 

It usually drives them away, but you’ll also have insistent ones, keen on making you sway while they nurse their injured pride to health.

Or even when married, no doubt Phil gets you the most out-there-looking band—why should he settle for less for any occasion, after all?

For Phil, he’d rather be caught dead in a ditch than potentially lose his actual ring on the battlefield. It’s why he has a silicone wedding band instead, personally chosen by you, thus why it’s almost as special as his main one. While he’d rather not potentially let a single scratch on his actual band, he still wants a part of you with him. Remind him of the memories you’ve made and will make every time he comes home. 

But on the other hand, it’s a possession thing.

Phil’s confidence in your relationship is just as massive as him carrying himself to the world, so the ring is more of a warning, as mentioned before, to those thinking they’d even have a grain of chance with you. He knows people take advantage of beautiful sweethearts like you because as soon as you give them a crumb of attention, you can only hope someone saves you from their infernal yapping.

The best part about it, to Phil, is that you don’t mind feeding his ego, just as he lives for them like a dog showering in its owner’s praises, because you know he achieves them all, be it his work or otherwise. But God knows if the men flirting with you were being truthful about the little stories they’ve conjured up to impress you.

Plus, you prefer Phil’s attention over theirs, absolutely no competition.

Especially when Phil finds the time (read: makes sure) to attend these cookouts.

Even if he doesn’t frequent to them as much as you do, he’s a household name. Literally. The hosts of the cookouts, Rick and his wife greet you like you’ve known each other for years; the same pair who’d save you from your demise each time they’d realize you were dragged into a one-sided or possibly uncomfortable conversation.

Phil is rare to be seen without you by his side, and none of you minded. A symbiotic system as Phil gets to flaunt you to all the desperate guys out there while playing guard dog. With unamused looks and sharp glares or even condescending smiles when they realize that he is the infamous Phillip Graves you and the hosts have been talking about. Somehow he knows which of them to send his warnings to, even if you’ve never given him their description.

"I did promise the missus I'd come one day." Phil joked with the group when Rick and his wife teased him for finally coming over, pulling you close to his side because he knew they were watching. You didn't, well, couldn't (not that you wanted to very much) spare even a second for them when your husband naturally had your attention.

And you get to seek comfort from him. Plus, it’s ten times fun with each other in these gatherings. Good food, good conversation and best of all, good company.

Now, tattoos. Ah, tattoos.

I imagine you’ve been considering one for a while and without his knowledge. Only because you know he’d be nosey enough to be able to draw an answer out of you. It takes a bit of time though, largely due to the commitment of it. You want one, of course, but to have one, you’ll want one that’s truly meaningful.

Should it be Graves or just G? Or should you opt for P.G. instead? What font would you want, how big would it be and where?

Even when you’ve finalised your answers, there’s a lingering bit of fear that it won’t be to your or his liking. But you’ve known the man long enough to know that so long that your heart belonged to him, cherished and cared for, you knew his heart will always belong to you too.

A small, single ‘G’ tattooed on your wrist in a flourish font. I initially thought of a finger tattoo but I heard not many artists recommend it, but that's beside the point! 

Just imagine him coming home after a tough time at work, pent-up until he has his wife underneath him. He only notices the ink on your wrist as his fingers interlock with yours. He slows his thrusts, but not he's stopping either.

If anything it reaches deeper into you when he realizes what the tattoo indicates.

“Pretty girl,” He purrs, pinning your wrist to brush his lips along the semi-sensitive spot. There's something about the way he carefully presses his lips to your pulse, only for his eyes to flit to your glassy ones with such danger. Such passion.

Such… eagerness.

“Didn't tell me y‘had a surprise.” The way surged his hips forward rather suddenly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a petulant pout had your lips parting, letting out a shaky moan even before you could protest. 

“I–I wanted to…” You whined, silently begging him not to stop with your feet against his back, even if it fogged your mind from thinking straight, from making sense as you spoke, “I had it… L–Last month...” 

It has Phil feel some type of way—the best way, that is. If seeing his love handling her wedding ring with much care doesn't make him go crazy already, then this definitely would. Be prepared to have your hands pinned, be it to the bed, the wall, in the shower, wherever, whenever, so long they—both the tattoo and the ring, face him for a little while.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I hope you are having a great day.

I was wondering if you could write more about Eddie Munson dating a Swiftie.

- Swiftie anon

um yes absolutely!

I saw a tiktok where a girl was showing her boyfriend All Too Well (10 Minute Version) which is what this was inspired by. If I can find it, I'll link it here!

"So this one is allegedly about Jake Gyllenhall," you tell him as you put on the next song, turning it up since it's the one you really to see his reaction to.

"How do you know this?"

"The internet, baby. That's why I say allegedly because there's no actual confirmation that it's about him, but I mean, it's pretty clear that it is."

"This is ten minutes?" He asks as he looks at the little screen in his car that shows what song is playing.

Sure, a lot of the songs he listens to are much longer than that, but that's expected with the genres he listens to. It's not very common for a pop song to exceed five minutes so he thinks there must be a lot that needs to be said.

"Yes," you nod. "But I promise it won't even feel like. Oh, and there's a short film as well that we can watch later."

"A short film?"

Eddie doesn't know why that surprises him. Considering everything he's heard about this woman from you, it seems like she's always doing something and even though he's never really been a huge fan of hers, he can still appreciate how much she loves her job and how much effort and love she puts into each project.

"Yes! It really shows what their relationship was like and puts the whole thing into perspective."

The lyrics start and you're singing along, even going as far as pulling out a red scarf from your purse and wrapping it around your neck. Eddie looks at you briefly before turning back to the road as he laughs how committed to the bit you are.

You're singing along to the lyrics as Eddie tries to focus on them, pausing the song after only a few lines.

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold But something 'bout it felt like home somehow And I left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer, even now

"Pause," he says, trying to wrap his head around what he's just heard.

"He kept her scarf?" The whole thing seems so weird to him. He understands to an extent, but not enough to defend who is being sung about.

"Yes!" You reply. "He was even seen wearing it while walking around town, Eddie! There are paparazzi pictures."

"So weird," he shakes his head then plays the song again.

And I know it's long gone and That magic's not here no more And I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all

"This is so heartbreaking," he comments, really hearing the pain in her voice.

"And it only gets worse from here," you sigh, obviously already knowing what's coming.

And you were tossing me the car keys, "Fuck the patriarchy" Keychain on the ground, we were always skipping town And I was thinking on the drive down, "Any time now, He's gonna say it's love", you never called it what it was Till we were dead and gone and buried Check the pulse and come back, swearing it's the same After three months in the grave And then, you wondered where it went to, as I reached for you But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

Eddie doesn't want to admit it, but that part's made him feel something. Maybe it's just how heartbroken she sounds or how she talks about how she really seemed to love him and was proud of their relationship while whoever she's singing about just wanted to hide what they had away because he seemed ashamed.

He thinks about how he would never want to do that to you, how he loves to flaunt your relationship, even going as far as kissing you in public, not giving a single damn who's watching. So he doesn't understand how people can feel so ashamed of their partner.

And you call me up again Just to break me, like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all Too well

"He made her feel like a piece of paper, Eddie."

"Brutal," he replies with a sigh.

They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said, "If we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine" And that made me want to die

"What was the age difference?"

"She was nineteen or twenty and he was twenty-nine." That makes Eddie's stomach churn. He's the same age and can't even conceptualize wanting to pursue someone as young as nineteen or twenty. That's a whole nine and ten years difference and that would definitely make for a power imbalance.

"Gross. And he's just saying that to make himself feel better. Because the truth is, he was going to end it anyway because it's clear that he doesn't care about her as much and she cares about him. The whole thing seems manipulative."

"See! I knew you'd understand." You love how much he's actually thinking about the lyrics and what they mean just like you do.

The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You, who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

"Hold on," he pauses the music again. "He didn't show up to her birthday party?"

"No," you shake your head in disappointment. "He didn't. And there's a whole song about that which we can listen to later."

And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes I'll get older, but your lover's stay my age

"Damn," is all Eddie can say in response to the line. "That was cutthroat."

The song comes to an end as the the car rolls up to your destination and Eddie just sits there, staring out through the windshield, clearly deep in thought. He then turns to you, still looking like he's pondering.

"Can we listen to it again?" He asks, which surprises you."

"Of course we can, baby," you reply and play the song again as you two sit in silence in the grocery store parking lot that Eddie had just pulled into. It seems like your groceries can wait. At least for the next ten minutes, they can.