#male long-length swim wear

[sons-from-adam]

When I think of 'swim gear' I think of swim equipment.

[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[kpopsexstories]

NCT Dream Dating Ban #4: Renjun Pt. 1

NCT Renjun can’t date girls. As his gay friend you help him out with his sexual needs. (Part 1 of 2)

Content Warning! This is a 100% gay story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Pairing: NCT Renjun (giver) x Male reader (receiver)

Content: Renjun blows [male reader] in a public pool

Type of Sex: MEDIUM/BLOWJOB ONLY

Word Count: 2.4k

The NCT Dream apartments have a large community pool. It's located on the ground floor and is shared with other residents of the complex.

Almost every time that you come to visit your best friend Jisung you make it a point to go for a swim. When you have access to a swimming pool, why not take advantage of it?

Today, on the fourth day of your current week-long visit, you're nearly done when Renjun appears behind you.

You turn at the opposite end of the pool and spot him. He's wearing low-hanging swim shorts and carrying a towel over his arm. You make your way back to his end – for your final length – while he sits down on the edge waiting for you to come.

“Hi,” he says calmly when you're getting close.

“Hi,” you say and grimace, water splashing in your mouth.

He's slowly playing with his feet below the surface as you swim up beside him. You put your arms and chin on the ground and you smile at each other. Gentle waves from your last strokes make your body bobble up and down.

“Hi,” he repeats. “I… didn't expect to see you here.”

You know that he knew that you were here, and your presence in the pool shouldn't be a surprise to him. He was in the dorm when you left to go downstairs. He saw you leaving, swim shorts and a towel in hand.

“Well, I'm done,” you say as if Renjun's comment was a sign that you are in the way. You're not. The pool is big, but Renjun’s question has made you feel unsure of what he wants from you. Is he happy to see you or annoyed not to have the pool to himself? You're just a visitor after all and the last thing you want is to be a burden.

”I'll get out of your way,” you add.

Renjun is quick to stop you and the expression on his face changes. “No, stay,” he says.

Maybe it's his half naked, sexy body so close to you that makes you feel nervous, but you suddenly feel like you need to be extra polite and respectful. “Nah, it's your pool,” you say and quickly pull yourself up on the ledge. In reality you have no desire to leave and are thrilled to be alone with the man. You can’t think of a time when you ever have been.

Water rushes down your body and your swim shorts cling to your crotch as you surface. You turn around and sit down beside the slim man.

He looks at you. “Yeah, but as our guest we want you to be comfortable,” he says and smiles wide. Then he smirks and adds: “You certainly seem to have been.”

Ah, he knows, you think.

“Been what?” you ask.

“Comfortable,” Renjun replies. “With the others…”

He definitely knows.

Suddenly it all makes sense. This isn't a chance encounter. Renjun saw an opportunity to catch you alone and took it. You're not quite sure though. The last statement almost sounded seductive, as if he's playing and flirting with you, but it might just be your wishful thinking.

Are you getting cocky and naive? Just because you've already had sex with Jisung, Mark and Haechan, why on earth would Renjun want to have sex with you too? Not to mention Jeno, Chenle or Jaemin. What a ridiculous idea. What do you think this is, some sort of sexual fantasy?

Other than the fact that you still sleep with Jisung every night, which has been great since you've discovered that you can be friends with benefits, you've been on an incredibly lucky streak. Of course you're not going to get to sleep with more of the boys.

Maybe I'll look up gay clubs, you think as you contemplate all of this in under two seconds. Jisung is great but very inexperienced, and you’ve got to put an end to this before someone gets hurt. These boys are making me so fucking hard.

Then you realize that maybe Renjun actually disapproves of what you've been doing with some of the other boys. Maybe, now that you over-think it, there was not flirting but rather resentment in his voice when he hinted at your activities with them. Or, is he really thinking about what you think he's thinking about at all? Maybe he's completely in the dark?

Fuck, I’m going crazy!

You suddenly realize that you’ve created an awkward silence. Renjun never finished his indirect statement, and your mind has wandered off. You decide to let it go and change the subject.

“You swim a lot?” you ask.

Renjun quickly adapts to the situation. “Yeah. A few times a week at least. I love coming here, it's relaxing.”

“Hah, a way to get away from the others?” you joke.

“Something like that,” Renjun says and chuckles. He looks at you curiously. “Nice technique by the way.”

You're not sure if he's being serious or just trying to make small talk. “Thanks.”

“You professional?”

Okay, he's definitely not serious! You laugh out loud. “No, not at all. I just love that you guys have a pool. Gotta take advantage of that, you know? I like the calmness here, it's always empty.”

Renjun nods as if he knows exactly what you mean. “I come down here all the time, mainly to get away form the boys like you said. None of them swim. This place feels like mine and I like that.”

His tone is suddenly thoughtful and dreamy. You've never considered swimming to be a very deep sport, but Renjun's voice carries a hint of such depth. Like he's using the pool as an escape not from the boys and the noise, but from something more. A break from real life.

“Yeah,” you say. “I can imagine. What about the other residents?”

“I hardly see them either. Some come down here every now and then, but I think they're just paying for the privilege. Like it's a status symbol or something to have a swimming pool. Is it true by the way?”

The question surprises you. “Is what true?” you ask, but deep down you know that Renjun wants to get back to the subject he was trying to bring up earlier.

“Did you really have sex with the others?”

Ah. Of course Mark couldn't shut up either. Or, maybe he did and Jisung is the one who’s been painting you as the slut that you are. It’s a label you don’t mind. Regardless, there’s no point in dancing around it and you actually like that Renjun wants to be frank and open about it.

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Why?” Renjun asks. He doesn’t show any emotion on his face.

“Why not?” you ask, passing the ball back to him. But you quickly decide to retake control. “I'm gay, you're hot and cute. They came to me. The dating ban…”

Renjun speaks before you get a chance to finish the sentence. “Mm, the dating ban. You know we don't actually have one, right?”

“Yeah, Jisung explained it to me. But I understand your position. You can't be seen in public with girls, so I can imagine it must be difficult to find partners even for… well, sex. And of course, you can't go on apps or anything like that. So they're horny and frustrated.”

“Trust me, there's no shortage of women in our lives.”

“Who?” you ask and raise an eyebrows.

“Staff, friends of friends, other idols. WayV and one-two-seven have more sex than you can imagine.”

“Hah, I doubt that. I have a pretty wild imagination.”

“I'm just saying. We all saw Mark follow you into the bathroom. We're not deaf, we know you have sex with Jisung every night. And Haechan… He hasn't stopped gushing about you since he… fucked you.”

You can’t help but smile faintly. “What are you saying?” you ask.

Renjun doesn't answer. Instead, he puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles back at you.

His fingers glide from your shoulder to your neck. He leans in and puts his other hand gently on your bare thigh. Your noses brush together, and you immediately know where this is going.

You're so ready for it. You close your eyes and open your mouth slightly. You feel the presence of Renjun sitting close to you, touching you softly, a warm breath on your cheek. You press your nose against the skin under his eye, and enjoy every second as you slowly begin to kiss.

When your mouth meets Renjun's soft lips you reach out to touch him too. You squeeze and caress his slim body while you make out, feet still in the pool and boners forming in your shorts. You're instantly hard.

Renjun appears eager to take things further, and you wonder who’s really the slut here. He's the one who keeps moving closer, and who eventually bends down to kiss your neck and shoulder.

He moves down your chest and starts to slide into the water. His head and lips go lower on your body, until he falls completely in and pushes out and away from the edge.

He glides effortlessly around your knee, then into the gap between your legs. His body carefully pulls your legs apart as he comes in like a ship about to dock and finally reaches your cock.

You stare down at the top of his head when he grabs the seams of your swim shorts. You raise your ass slightly and he slides them down your ass.

Your cock is released, and he quickly takes it in his mouth. With his hands on your naked hips and your shorts floating half way down your thighs, he licks and kisses your shaft, until he puts his lips around the head and lowers himself onto it.

“Ahh, fuck,” you moan, partly as a result of the intense pleasure Renjun is giving you, partly to show him that you're okay with all of this. You want it – oh man, you want it so badly – and you want him to know that.

The blowjob in the pool lasts for several minutes. It's only interrupted once when you ask, “Ahh, Renjun, what if someone comes?”

He looks at you with a playful expression, cock still in his mouth. “Isn't that the goal?”

You laugh out loud. “That's not what I meant,” you say and run your fingers through his hair. The conversation is oddly similar to when you first blew Jisung just two days ago. It's almost as if Renjun's terrible joke was written by the same author.

Things escalate further when Renjun decides that it’s time. As he bobs up and down in the water he puts his hands on your knees and pulls himself up. His body is stretched long, his lips reach yours, and you're suddenly making out on the edge of the pool.

Your hands are all over the sexy man's body. “Seriously,” you say between hot kisses. “This is a public pool.”

“No,” Renjun points out. “It's for residents only and no one ever comes here. I always swim alone.”

He knows that the risk is there though, and that the consequences of his actions could hurt him a lot. You on the other hand would only feel embarrassed, if even that. His career is at stake while you have nothing substantial to lose.

For that reason, he suddenly becomes even more eager. You can't go back to the dorm – you are guaranteed not to be alone there – yet neither of you want to end things. So instead, he suddenly falls back into the pool and pulls your whole body with him.

You laugh when you hit the water and your head becomes immersed. You both giggle and smile while you kiss and kick your legs to stay afloat.

This is so much fun, you think and feel an intoxicating rush.

You're overcome with lust and desire when you press Renjun against the wall and the full length of your bodies rub together. You're ready for him to fuck your ass just like the others have, to use you as a release for his sexual frustration and come inside you like a starving beast devouring a meal.

But, as it turns out, Renjun has other plans.

“Wanna fuck me?” you ask.

“No,” Renjun says which initially takes you by surprise.

“Why not?”

“I'm gay. There's this smut blog about us that I follow, where people voted me as the idol they most want to see bottoming. I want you to fuck me.”

Your face immediately lights up. Well, this is a surprise! you think excitedly.

You’ve always wondered but never asked if any of the boys were gay. Renjun hinted at it earlier in your conversation when he pointed out all the women they could have. Now, you think that maybe you don't need to seek out those gay clubs after all. This is almost too good to be true, and there's nothing you'd like to do more in this moment than to drill your dick into Renjun's twinky ass.

But you can't. Not here. You're in a public pool, sort of. Anyone could walk in at any moment. You're already exposed enough, and having sex this publicly is too risky.

Going back to the dorm is not an option. With Haechan you were alone in the house but that was a rare occurrence. With Mark, he was the one who secretly forced his way into the bathroom when you went in there. And Jisung… you're close friends and you're staying in his bed anyway, which was always the arrangement even before you had sex. It’s no business of the others what you do in there when the door is closed.

As your mind goes looking for a solution you suddenly think of the the showers in the changing room. They're in an adjacent room to the pool and relatively private. You were in there before your swim and left your clothes in a locker.

“Hey. You did shower before getting in, right? Your hair isn't even wet…”

Renjun smiles wide back at you. “No,” he admits, clearly understanding what you're getting at. “I was in a hurry to find you before you were done.”

“Then let’s go. I’ll fuck you, if we do it in there.”

Click here to read Renjun's part 2.

Click here to read the previous 'Dating Ban' story with NCT's Mark.

If you like my stories, support me by clicking here to buy me a coffee.

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

surf's up pt.1 ?? - kazuha + minju  

-this was originally meant to be a birthday fic for Minju but I couldn’t sit down and complete it so I incorporated one of my dirty thoughts into this fic. I’m not sure if people would like this as much as my mind did. threesome, creampie, nothing way too crazy, maybe a bit of overstimulation. please do tell me if this is straight trash, i’ll consider not writing a second pt to this.

-length: 2145 words

-minju, kazuha x male reader

The beach. The perfect place for just about anything. Surfing, picnics, volleyball, swimming, going on dates. That’s what made it your favorite haunt. 

Just kidding.

You absolutely hated the beach. Especially sand. It’s coarse and it gets everywhere. The sun was a bane to your existence. The constant chaos of seagulls cawing, children screaming and the waves crashing just did not sit well in your mind at all. This was probably the first time since the pandemic that you’d come to any beach. You moved from your hometown to the city just a week ago and since your apartment was close to the beach, you figured why not got for a jog now that you were done unpacking everything into the new residence and get to know your environment a bit more.

Midway through your run, at a slightly more deserted area of the beach, you caught sight of two fine bodied female surfers. Both of them were dressed in one piece singlet swimsuits that accentuated their lovely figure. The one on the left was a tall slender bodied woman that had a body to die for. Her abs were well toned and her arm muscles were extremely defined. But what caught your eye the most was her legs, they were long, sleek and slender with thighs that you wanted to wear as a scarf. They led your eyes up to her cute perky ass that was asking to be spanked. The woman on the right was a bit bustier. The swimsuit accentuated this fact by hugging her chest tight and exposing her buttcheeks to the world. As you were admiring the sight before your eyes, the whole world suddenly started to fall as the two vixen faded away from you into the darkness.

.

.

.

“Is he awake?” 

The warmest, gentlest voice brings you back to earth. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by the same two damsels that you were admiring before ending up in what seemed like a small foresty area by the shoreline, laying on a sky blue beach mat with an ice packet to your head. 

“Are you okay? You look like you took quite a fall back there.” It was the taller girl. Her doe eyes fluttered as she spoke to you, melting your heart as well as the stinging pain in your head. 

What happened to me? Why am I here ? Why are you both so awfully perfect ? You had a million questions you wanted to ask. 

“He looks okay.” said the shorter, bustier girl. “Or at least that’s what his little friend is trying to tell us.” Pointing down at your crotch, turning all attention to the bulge starting to form. 

“Fufufu…guess it's time to get acquainted huh Minju.” says the taller girl, moving her hand down to your crotch and rubbing your cock through your pants. 

“Take it easy Kazuha, you don’t want this poor guy fainting again.” 

“Wha-” You’re cut off by Minju diving head first into a kiss. She smells absolutely divine, a mixture of ocean air and rose petals. Meanwhile, Kazuha is wiggling your troublesome clothes out of the way, and in a matter of seconds, you’re stark naked on the beach mat, visible to any fishing boat that may go by. The two girls gather at your cock and begin to shower it with their affection, arching their backs to show off their juicy hindparts. 

“Gosh, who knew we’d be getting railed by such a monstrous thing today huh Minju”, Kazuha says while kissing the base of your cock, the warm air from her nostrils gently breezing against your skin, sending tingles up your spine. Minju is unable to answer, working her magic on your balls, taking one in her mouth at a time and covering it in her saliva. She gets to work first while Kazuha backs off to begin a deep makeout session with you, while your hands survey her specimen of a figure, admiring how toned yet delicate her muscles had developed. Meanwhile Minju is absolutely going to town on your cock, not even needing time to acclimate to how big your length was. She would bob her head down in a rhythmic manner, going down twice while looking at you lustfully before staying there, allowing your dick to take 2 seconds of rest before slowly detaching her mouth. Minju was also extremely skilled with her tongue. It snaked around your cock as she worked her magic, moving over your sensitive points as it disappeared and reappeared from her mouth. Soon, she got off and let Kazuha have her way with your throbbing erection.

Kazuha leaves a deep kiss at the tip of your cock, before taking your length in her mouth. She, unlike Minju, starts off safe, taking in no more than a fifth of your cock, then a quarter, then a half, until your whole length disappears into her mouth hitting the back of her throat, her lips touching the base of your cock. Her mouth is warm and snug, you could leave your dick in there for eternity. Then, Kazuha moves her head up and down furiously, never letting more than a quarter of your dick out of her mouth. You throw your head back in pleasure, Kazuha’s mouth was perfect, it was like it was molded just for taking your dick in. Meanwhile, you begin tearing off the swimsuit that Minju was wearing, kneading her sizable tits and squeezing her juicy ass and smacking it while making out intensely with her, earning a few moans that escaped from Minju’s mouth. Sensing that you were about to cum, you stand up and grab onto the sides of Kazuha’s head and begin facefucking her. She maintains eye contact with you as you continuously thrust your length deep within her sinful abyss with eyes that begged you to abandon life and surrender to her. Soon, your cock could not take it anymore. 

“Fuck! Kazuha!”

You cum right into Kazuha’s mouth and she tries to take it all, but there’s just too much and it starts to overflow as you withdraw your length from her mouth. Minju instinctively knows what to do, licking the cum around her mouth, cleaning it up. Kazuha opens her mouth to show how much you’ve let loose within her, before swallowing it in one gulp and sticking her tongue out again to show you that she ingested it all. 

Consumed by lust, Kazuha pounces onto you, pinning you down onto the beach mat. Your lips crash against hers as you start to lose yourself in the hot and passionate kiss as your hands work to peel her annoying swimsuit away. Soon, her bare body was right on top of your own, both her legs on your sides, her textured abdominal muscles on top of your own, her breasts pressed against yours, her arms wrapped around your neck as beads of sweat start to collect on both your bodies and her dripping shaved pussy touching your ever hard cock, just waiting to be destroyed by the latter. Your hands work to squeeze and slap those juicy butt cheeks that you were admiring before. You position your cock with Kazuha’s pussy and press her down on it, slowly moving your entire length inside of her. Kazuha then lets out a loud moan once the whole thing is inside.

“Fuck! You’re so big, you’re gonna break my pussy…”

Minju, not wanting to be left out, climbs on top of you, sitting on your face, demanding to be eaten out. At this moment, you’d die to see what kind of sexual artwork the three of you were making. But that wasn’t to say your view beneath Minju’s lewd body wasn’t visually appetizing. From beneath you could admire Minju’s perfectly sized tits, swaying from left to right as she rided on your face as well as a close up of her picture perfect pussy whose scent you could not get enough of.

In the meantime, Kazuha was having the time of her life, bouncing up and down on your cock. Her pussy was really tight. Every hip movement she made brought so much pleasure to your mind that it was numbing. The only sounds you could hear at the beach were the moans of the two girls on top of you, the slapping of Kazuha’s bubble butt onto your pelvis and the crashing of the waves against the shore. 

“Shit! I’m about to cum!” Minju arches her back and squeals as a hot wave of her girl juice gushes out of her pussy, coating your face in her slick. She wasn’t the only one about to cum though. Moving Minju to the side, you sit up and reverse the positions you and Kazuha were in, pinning her arms above her head to restrict her movement. She squirms beneath you as you push her legs up to her chest, moving into the missionary position for even deeper thrusts. You nuzzle your neck into hers, devouring her sweat-filled scent as you fucked her senseless, her moans getting louder and more frequent as you upped the pace of your thrusts. 

“Fuck you’re gonna make me lose my mind…Fuck…FUCCCKKK!!!” Kazuha screams, her eyes rolling back to her head as she reaches her own high. Her pussy clenches even tighter around your cock and her back arches to acclimate to the pleasure, causing you to reach your own breaking point, releasing spurt after spurt of sticky white stuff into her swollen pussy. You pull your cock out, to see a small river of yours and Kazuha’s byproducts flow out of her filled pussy. Kazuha is absolutely spent, panting relentlessly as she mutters “so good…so warm…” over and over, showing how you absolutely broke the girl. 

“Hope you didn’t forget about me.” says Minju, as she places Kazuha to the side and pins you down.

“I want you to fucking pour whatever’s left inside me. Fill me up to the brim. Fuck me like the slut I am” she whispers into your ear. 

Her words are lewd and arousing, consuming you in yet another wave of lust. You hug onto Minju’s busty body tightly and without wasting another second, furiously fuck her like you were both animals in heat. If somebody were to walk by, you definitely wouldn’t pull out of her and would continue fucking her relentlessly. Minju’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her mind absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure. Her fingers dug deep into your shoulders, grabbing onto them for stability and to try and reassemble her lost sanity. Too consumed by passion to stop and get her to loosen up, you fuck her even harder and faster, her words resonating within your mind. Pour whatever’s left inside me. Fill me… like the slut I am. You lean into Minju and get a good whiff of her scent. She no longer smells like the ocean and roses. She now smells like sweat and sex. Freeing a hand from your deep embrace, you reach down and squeeze a buttcheek, slapping it. Then, you had an absolutely dirty idea. Using your middle finger, you feel around for her asshole and insert your finger inside. Minju, completely unexpecting of your lewd action, screams in overstimulation. Her hips buckle as she squirts a geyser of her cum for the second time. Her head drops onto your shoulder as you continue railing her limp body, wanting to fulfill her wishes. With one final push and a low growl, you release all you had into her slutty pussy. Wave after wave of your cum flows into her. Even after you pulled out you were still shooting some cum onto her midriff. 

“Shit that was amazing…Maybe I should take the “scenic” route more…” you say as you slump in between Minju and Kazuha’s sleeping bodies, of which you had done an absolute number to. 

HONKKKKKKKK

You are awakened from your slumber by the loud blow of a ship's horn, seemingly scolding you for doing such a sinful deed under the sky where anybody could see. Kazuha and Minju are up as well, getting changed and preparing to leave. 

“That was the best fuck we’ve both had ever in our lives. Here’s our numbers. We live not too far from here. When you want to have a bit of fun, call us and we’ll be right over.” Minju says with a tinge of lust in her voice, handing you a small sheet of paper with both their numbers and names. She leans in and whispers in your ear, “Maybe you can call only me and use me as your personal cumdump.” 

“Ya! Don’t leave me alone!” Kazuha exclaims in rebuttal, shoving the shorter girl gently. She tiptoes and pecks you on the lips before winking at you and leaving. 

You glance down at the paper. You were definitely enjoying moving into your new home.

[neomujinjja]

Lifetime of Moments

Pairing: Non-idol!Anton x reader

Length: 1,886 words Genre: fluff, slight angst

Warning: not edited, very long, children*, major character death

Synopsis: Anton retells the story of him and his life partner through the important moments of their time together

Note: this is heavily inspired by the movie 'A man named Otto'. * I don't mention pregnancy or bringing children back from the hospital to ensure gender neutrality and be inclusive. I also use the abbreviation P/T to stand for Parental Term. But I wanted to give a warning either way for people.

���─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I'm sorry!" a voice rushed out, the owner not sparing a look back towards Anton. They seemed to be in a rush, a book falling out of their arms.

"Oh! You dropped your book." Anton called out but it seemed as the person couldn't hear him. The boy picked up the book and ran after its reader. Luckily, Anton hadn't lost them in the small crowd of people. He reached out to tap their shoulder as they stopped at a cross walk. "Hey, you dropped this back in the cafe." he explained as he handing the item over. The two's figures brushing over one another's.

"Thank you!~ I'm halfway through and I would hate not knowing how it ends," They smiled at Anton, looking into his eyes. And he swears that they were the prettiest person that he's ever seen. "You're my hero! Is there a chance that I could get your name?" they inquired, beginning to rock back and forth on their heels. "Mine's Y/N".

"I'm Anton. Lee Anton." He replied, returning a shy smile of his own.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Anton. Maybe we'll see each other again one day" Y/N said. Anton was enamored with the way his name came out of their mouth. They gave him a thumbs up before crossing to the other side of the street, weaving their way through the mass of people.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton began hanging around the cafe more often after his encounter with Y/N. It wasn't just because he wanted to see them again, it was convenient cause the cafe was close to Anton's college and gym. The perfect spot to wait for classes and get something before practice. If Anton happened to bump into you there then that was a bonus.

He was waiting in line when he received a tap on his shoulder. "I thought that was you, Anton." Y/N said giving the male in front of them a big grin.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted breathily, Y/N looked breath-taking despite wearing a hoodie and sweats. Anton admittedly was surprised that they had remembered him and his name.

"I'm sorry for rushing off without properly thanking you last time. Let me make it up to you," Y/N told him. Anton began shaking his head in protest. It wasn't a big deal to him and he was happy just knowing that they remembered him. "Nonsense, let me take you to dinner. It's the least I could do for my hero" They cut off any of Anton's protest as they pulled out a notebook. He watched them write a series of numbers before then ripping the page. "That's my number, we can discuss where and when later."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton paid his fair before quickly leaving the cab. He was running behind but he hopefully hadn't kept them waiting long. Anton had texted you but he hadn't checked his phone for a response. A breathe of relief left him at the sight of Y/N waiting outside the agreed upon restaurant. "I'm glad you're still here!"

"I told you, I was taking you out. If anything I should've been worried that you were gonna bail." They responded opening the door for the male. The place seemed relatively fancy but not so that eating would break the bank. "I hope you're into Italian food, Mr. Anton cause this is the fanciest I can afford" Y/N joked as the pair walked into the restaurant. Anton felt so comfortable in Y/N's presence, he was able to joke and laugh freely with them. It was as if he could talk with them for hours.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton felt like he was on cloud 9 and was buzzing from the energy in the crowd. The male had broken a personal record at the swim meet just minutes before. He and Y/N walked hand-in-hand out of the stadium. "Anton," Y/N pulled him to the side, away from the crowd. They took both of his hands in theirs and swung them between the pair. "Will you marry me?" They asked the man in front of them. "We've been together for 4 years, and I know I love you and want to be together with you for the rest of my life." Y/N continued, rubbing circles on the back of Anton's hands.

Anton pulled them into a hug, bringing their heads together. "Of course, I want to marry you" he responded.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"This is the last one" Y/N said as they set the last box down.

"And now it's officially our place" Anton said back as he wrapped his arms around them. Y/N hummed in agreement and leaned back onto their husband. "Imagine what it'll be like once we're all settled in." The pair swayed as they took a break before they'd begin unpacking.

"Where should we start first? The Kitchen...The Living Room?" Y/N asks turning to face the male. "The bedroom?" They continued as they jokingly wiggled their eyebrows at Anton. He laughs and plants a kiss onto their forehead.

"Let's start in the bedroom and then work towards the kitchen and living room" The male proposes. The duo separate and begin unpacking the boxes.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ushering in, the pair quietly and tiredly walked through the door. Y/N makes their way towards the couch and sets the baby carrier down. They take out their son and place him in the bouncer. Anton joins after putting their bags into the couple's laundry room. "He's so small and precious" Y/N whispers as they looked over their child.

"He's all ours to love" Anton responds bringing his partner closer to his side. Sniffling was heard making the male turn. "Why are you crying?" Anton asked as he wiped their tears away. "Are you okay?" He continued with worry in his voice.

"I'm okay" They nodded, sniffling some more. "We have a baby. We're parents." Y/N says taking Anton's hands in theirs.

The male laughed "Yeah, we sure are". He pulled his partner into a hug.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"How was the zoo, you guys?" Y/N asked as Anton and the boys walked in. They got an arm full of Teo, their oldest son, once he was fully inside.

"P/T we saw so many animals. And there was even an animal that was like Kori. It stayed on its parent's back" He tells you excitedly about the animals the three saw at the zoo.

"A Koala" Anton informed the young boy as he took his second son out of their sling. "Did you tell P/T about your favorite exhibition yet?" He asks the toddler as he lets the baby onto the play mat. Anton walks over to his partner, giving them a peck on the lips despite Teo's protest.

"Appa! You can't give P/T a kiss before I give them one!" the young boy says pushing his dad away. Teo wrapped his tiny arms around his other parent and begins placing kisses on their face. Laughter came out from the adult couple at the toddler's actions.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton turns and reaches out to his partner's side. He opens his eyes when he doesn't feel anything. The male gets up out of the bed, puts his house shoes on and begins looking around their home. Anton checks on the boys' room after looking in the bathroom and the kitchen-living room combo with no avail. Teo and Kori are both deep asleep with tiny snores coming out of their mouth. He closes the door softly then proceeds to the nursery. There he finds Y/N in the rocking chair with their youngest June. Anton lets out a sigh of relief upon the sight. He walks towards his partner and their child. "Y/N, come back to bed. Let's put Junie back in her crib" The male whispers rubbing their back.

"Did I fall asleep?" Y/N asks groggily with a confused look on their face. Anton nods as he helps them get up from the rocking chair. The duo quietly set June back in her crib, double checking the monitor before heading out of the room. He rubs Y/N's back as the couple walk back to their room. They get into the bed and Anton cuddles into his partner. Now he can fall back asleep knowing that all of his family is safe.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N and Anton sit outside, enjoying the fresh evening air. "It's quiet, isn't it?" Y/N says after a moment. "With all of the kids officially out, it's quiet" They continued as they sipped their tea.

"It's odd, right? We haven't had a quiet moment to yourselves since we brought Teo home" Anton says with a laugh. He grabs his partner's hand, over the years they've both gained wrinkles.

"Should we call them?" Y/N jokes and the duo laugh. With a sigh, Y/N continues "I understand how our parents felt when we moved out".

Anton hums before shaking his head. "No, we can bother them some other time. Let's just enjoy the silence for now."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton held his partner's hand as they laid in the bed. The low hum of the machines in the background. "Anton..." Y/N spoke lowly, their voice sounded parched and croaky.

"Yes, Y/N?" He responded with his full attention. Anton gripped tighter at his spouse's hand with love in his eyes.

"I don't want to leave you and the kids. We were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives." Y/N said looking into Anton's eyes. He tries to interrupt but they stop him from speaking. "I'm sorry Anton. I'm gonna have to leave first" they continued before turning to their children. "Take care of your Appa for me. I love you, my babies and I'm so proud to have raised the three of you. You've all done such great things with your life, and I know you'll continue to do so." Y/N tells them before a coughing fit starts.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Y/N was the love of my life. There was no one else like them. I pretty much fell in love with them as soon as I first met them." Anton pauses with a sigh and chuckle.

"Mr. Lee, that sweet. Did you think you'd end up dating and marrying them too?" the home nurse asked the elderly man.

"No," He shook his head "I didn't. I always thought of myself as a lucky man to be with them. I was just happy that Y/N wanted to be around me." Anton says with a smile on his face. The home nurse also smiled at the man's statement.

"I wish that I can have a love like yours one day, Mr. Lee" She tells him. She's had been helping take care of the elderly man for a few years now. She had seen the pictures and heard a few stories but today she asked about Mr. Lee's love life with his spouse. The home nurse listened and watched as the man eyes and voice were full of love as he spoke about his life partner. Anton laughs and smiles as he wishes the home nurse luck. "Do you miss them, Mr. Lee?" she asks with curiosity.

Anton hums and nods before answering "Everyday".

[anika-ann]

Hot Boy Summer (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3000

Summary: Your boyfriend is all hot in every season, but there’s just something about summer Steve messing around in a pool that makes your heart melt and your bikini wet before you even step into water. And really, the hottest outfit your man can wear is happiness – or nothing at all.

Or, the one in which you (Agent Jones) are spending the afternoon chilling by Avenger's private swimming pool - and ogle your supersoldier boyfriend.

Warnings: allusions to smut so 18+ and NSFW, Steve in a swimsuit, happy Steve (he’s radiant, he’s a warning), language

A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

 The sunrays were sharp as they reflected of the water surface, but you pushed your sunglasses up anyway, waning to fully appreciate your view.

Because what an excellent view it was.

It wasn’t that you were lounging nearly on the top of New York – almost on the top of the Avengers Tower – and should you peer behind the glass railings, reaching all up to your shoulders to block the wind, you’d have the city laid in front of you. It wasn’t even that while you’d take in this no doubt magnificent view, you could dip your toes in a pool, because that was how extravagant Tony Stark had been when rebuilding this place – a pool almost n the roof. No. You enjoyed something much more special than that.

Half-lying on the luxurious beach chair by the Avengers’ private pool at the eightieth floor, you had a still open book placed on your chest pages down, long forgotten in favour of a much more enticing activity than reading – or admiring the New York skyline or swimming, for that matter. Long minutes passed since Steve had arrived, kissed your forehead, offered a brief view of his rear in the navy-blue swim trunks and dived head-first into water. And yet, you were still watching him, mesmerized by your handsome man all the same.

He had barely come out for air since jumping into water, but there were other things to admire than his angelic face; the entirety of his body, moving in the water so gracefully it seemed he found himself more at ease there than with his feet firmly on the ground. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Maybe you were even drooling a little bit. But which male-attracted person wouldn’t? All that filled your field of vision appeared to be designed only to seduce you.

The extremely well-defined lines of the muscles on Steve’s back dancing under his skin with every powerful stretch and flex, glistening whenever he broke the water surface; his bulging arms, his shoulders so marvellously wide, making you wish to revisit your yesterday’s mission to retrace with your lips every droplet of water cascading over them while you had showered together; a peek of his firm bottom, the trunks sticking to it perfectly and calling out to you to grab it and maybe get a bite of it.

The thing was, even if you’d have left behind all those sinful thoughts, he would be still be a sight to behold; an image of alluring strength and beauty. His hair flowing around his head like a halo, the length and wide planes of his body controlled with such skill, skin of his shoulders and biceps in particular peppered with soft constellations of freckles, kisses from the sunrays or angels themselves, always turning so prominent during summer months. You had always longed to brush your fingertips over them, count them with your lips, even back when you and Steve nothing more but friends; the fact you were allowed to do that now, earning a soft laugh and a pair of twinkling eyes watching you tenderly when you did, brought a smile to your face.

The image Steve made now was certainly a better look than the imitation of lobster he had become when he had forgone sunscreen the other afternoon when Tony had attempted to throw a small Avengers pool party. The party itself, of course, wasn’t the problem; it was the fact you had been running late to it for the most delicious of reasons. You had got distracted when Steve had so lovingly massaged the cream into your skin – and consequently, you never got to do him. Not the sunscreen part anyway. While sunkissed was a gorgeous look on him, sunburned less so. Then again, that serum-fuelled cheater had woken up fresh-faced like the day he had been born and had got a very light tan two days later, his freckles making their yearly reappearance.

Now, droplets wandered between them as he finally reemerged for longer than a second, shaking off water of his hair before he faced you with a grin. You supressed the dreamy school-girl like sigh as to hold onto the last remnants of your dignity. He was a sight worthy of gods as he folded his arms on the edge of the pool, legs idly dangling behind; but it was you, a mere mortal, blessed enough to ogle him without having to feel like a creep.

“Show off,” you accused him teasingly, not bothering to comment further on his Olympics-worthy performance even if the pool was far from the typical race-sized one.

“If you didn’t look at me like that when I’m showing off, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” you inquired in challenge, barely resisting losing yourself in the light his carefree grin was radiating.

Steve was nothing short of breathtaking like this, perfectly relaxed – happy, comfortable, confident. A few days off here and there worked true wonders for him. And maybe, maybe you’d like to think that so did you.

He simply shrugged. “Dat’s what I said, Agent Jones.”

You pursed your lips, chest humming with contentment and excitement. So, it was going to be like this today, huh?

“Oh? How am I even looking at you?” you questioned, mocking offence. “And pray to tell me, Captain Rogers, how would you even know? Did the serum give you some sort of abilities enabling to you watch me while you’re under water? Have you been hiding that you are, in fact, some kind of a telepath?”

The slow devilish smile spreading on Steve’s lips had your heart stumble before it began to race. “Neither. I could simply tell you like what you see every time I came out for air because of my enhanced sense of smell.”

You felt your features twist into a confused frown for you got lost in the game he had started. Sense of smell?

Steve tilted his head to side, clearly amused by your ignorance. His gaze, deliberately slow, travelled from where he had been looking directly into your eyes down your body, over the swell of your breasts hidden by the still open book, over your stomach, down your le—

You sputtered an incomprehensible curse, dropping your useless book into your lap as if to hide your sudden shame – or perhaps the evidence which you hoped wasn’t visible. Despite having been sunbathing for almost an hour, it was now that your face was set completely aflame.

“That’s not--- that’s-” totally true, in fact “-you’re just making shit up. And that is a highly inappropriate remark, Captain Rogers,” you accused him, embarrassed by the squeaky quality your voice suddenly acquired.

“Not if it’s true. And I know it is,” he said matter-of-factly, his smirk growing. “What can I say, I’m very perceptive of the scents I like.”

“Shut up, Rogers.”

Steve just grinned wider, oozing satisfaction at not only having caught you, but also being the source of a little pool of slick in your bikini bottoms. The nerve on him! You were--- there was nothing to be ashamed of! He knew that and you knew that, but here you were, sputtering nonsense under your breath, flustered by your insanely attractive boyfriend calling you out on the fact you were aroused by the sight of him displaying his god-like body built of extremely well-toned muscles in action. So what?! You were only human! And one with a pair of relatively well-working eyes too.

There was not a single note of malice in his voice, you had to remind yourself; he didn’t mean to embarrass you, not truly. And should you be fair, you had been the first to call him out. You had started the teasing; you might as well finish it.

Two can play this game, Captain, you thought. Even if one of us is infinitely better at it at the moment.

“So what? Are you saying you mind me ogling you and maybe, maybe liking what I see?” you asked, mentally congratulating yourself at the feigned nonchalance in your voice.

Steve’s smile turned softer and oh, now he was not playing fair. You could melt under the gentle force of that smile on any normal day when he turned its power on you, let alone after your heart had been tried so much today already.

“Never said that, sweetheart. Now, you look little flushed there. Why don’t you join me so I can get you properly wet?”

Your jaw dropped. Literally dropped, your brain short-circuiting. Surely, he meant the pool… surely, he did not.

You most definitely lost this round. Perhaps you had lost your sanity too, but that had been minutes ago, when you thought you could start anything with Steve Rogers and win.

“STEVEN GRANT!” you shrieked, the high-pitched sound drowned in Steve’s outburst of laughter, to which you involuntarily joined, because did he really say that or had you got a heatstroke? “You- you did not just say that to me!”

The laughter in his eyes told you that the words very much did leave his mouth and he regretted none of it. In fact, he was quite proud of himself. The loveable, sweet, dirty-minded jerk.

Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come join me.”

Speaking of loveable and sweet…

“Ugh. What’s in it for me?” you questioned despite actually wanting to follow his invitation instantly. You did need to cool off and you weren’t reading anyway. Plus, you had Steve in a pool all for yourself… and a pool only to share with Steve, of course. But still. “You know, swimming is-“

“-the only class you had to retake at the academy, I know. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Pff, weak, Rogers,” you dismissed him, a smile tugging at your lips still.

“Oh? Well maybe I can offer an incentive then?”

You hesitated. You already wanted to join him – but you couldn’t but be intrigued as to what he could come up with. You put away your book at last, your sunglasses joining it soon after.

“Okay…I’m listening.”

Steve shrugged, most definitely flexing his large biceps which were still on display. “Easy enough. If you join me… you won’t only get to watch, but also touch.”

You scoffed. Weak. Enticing, naturally; but quite predictable. You expected better from him.

You crossed your arms on your chest to mimic his stance a bit, pushing your breasts up about as innocently as he had flexed his arms. The flicker of his gaze down that direction, even if brief, was very satisfying.

“Steve, honey, if you think that’s enough of an incentive for me to get my hair wet and step into a pool which I’m not a fan of, then you’re very, very full of yourself.”

You noticed the way he slowly lifted one corner of his lips, the way he breathed in for a retort – and when you quickly went over what you said, your core almost instinctively responding to the mere suggestion of you being full of himself – you pointed a warning finger on him.

“Do not make that sentence into a pun.”

Steve laughed in response, but obediently swallowed the comment. “Come on, sweetheart. Come have fun with me.”

Speaking of poor choice of words – or a very deliberate one…

You couldn’t help it; you snorted.

“Now you sound like a dirty old man,” you teased him, but finally rose to your feet, the warmed-up paving stones pleasant under your feet.

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit of both, so I guess that’s fair.”

“Uh-huh, just as I like you,” you hummed as you watched him flow towards the wide steps you were about to walk down, carefully dipping your toe in – and swiftly pulling your foot back. “It’s cold!”

“Cold?!” Steve echoed with disbelief, shaking his head, but offering a compassionate smile when he realized you had been grilling your body in the sun for quite some time. “Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up.”

“Promises, promises…” you muttered, but took a deep breath and went as fast as you could handle before you could change your mind.

Steve’s hands welcomed you, pulling you flush to his warm body indeed, fingertips tracing your cheek before dropping a kiss to your nose. And cheek. And then mouth, lingering there, smiling against your lips, arm wrapping firmly around your waist.

Alright. Had you needed some convincing, this would definitely make the cut. Worth it.

“Incentive enough?” he teased against your lips, tasting of sunshine and well, a bit of chlorine. Still worth it.

“Hm… not entirely convinced. Maybe try convincing me again?”

You felt his smile widen minutely, the only warning you got before his palm spread over your nape to pull you closer, his lips back on yours, easily parting them and kissing you deep, taking his time convincing your very thoroughly, your recently activated hindbrain approving of the possibilities of having some fun time in the pool with him indeed.

You let your hands wander and appreciate the wide planes of his back, water gently flowing as you found yourself being backed into the wall of the pool. Steve’s arm slipped lower until he was cupping the globes of your ass, effortlessly coaxing your leg around his waist, opening you up to his hardening length, tongue exploring your mouth and echoing the needy noise you released when his hips rocked against yours. Now you truly felt thoroughly warmed up – in fact, the cool water felt like nothing against the inferno building in your veins, burning hot when Steve’s nimble fingers traced the hem of your bikini bottoms and slipped under.

“Guys, please, don’t fuck in the pool,” a wry voice sounded from above your head without warning, causing you to yelp and drop your hands in an instant.

Hadn’t it been for Steve’s firm grip on you, you’d jump and drop your leg too. As Tony continued lecturing you through the speakers at the ceiling, Steve had enough decency to stop tongue-fucking your mouth, simply resting his lips against yours; as if Tony’s interruption and lack of concept of privacy wasn’t maddening enough.

What the fuck? Why the hell was he even doing, watching you?! Or had he had Jarvis tell on you? Warn him off? That… would be fairly reasonable, you assumed, but--- principles! Privacy!

“I’d say get a room, but you literally have the room several floors down… and by room, I mean half the floor. That’s enough flat surfaces to have your lady on and against, Rogers. Keep the pool clean of your filth. PSA over.”

Steve withdrew at last, a colourful curse on his lips as he released the sweet grip on your thigh, long fingers withdrawing. Looking up at him, teeth worrying over your lower lip, you couldn’t but chuckle at his wide pupils coupled with a very, very annoyed face.

“I’ll kill him. Help me hide the body?” he suggested, clearly only half-joking.

More out of habit than anything else, you shook your head, the absurdity of the situation fully settling. Tony probably did have Jarvis to alert him if someone – who wasn’t him, ew, thank you, brain – was about to fool around in the pool. Not that that made it much better, that you weren’t special, but it certainly had you feel less violated… even if equally annoyed.  

“Do you think he has microphones too?”

“I hope so. I hope we scarred him for life,” Steve said, frowning – and then his face suddenly lit up with mischief, fingers teasingly travelling up your thigh again, snapping the elastic of your bottoms against your hip. “In fact, I think I want to scar him further. What do you say? You up for the challenge? Let’s ignore the orders of the self-appointed overlord?”

You slapped his hand as much as possible in the water, laughing, shaking your head again. Then, you couldn’t but kiss the pout from his lips, an alternative plan already forming in your head.

You leaned to his ear, whispering.

“How about… we have some PG-appropriate fun in here. And if you behave, well, then I’ll think of an incentive for you.”

Steve’s hand found its way to your waist, squeezing.

“Okay…I’m listening,” he echoed your earlier words.

You leaned back and faced him, grinning. “Well, if I tell you, you could get too excited and you might not actually behave, so…” Deliberately slow, you trailed the tip of your index fingers down his sternum, over his stomach, following the treasure trail, your smiling turning coy. “You’ll just have to trust me that I’ll make it worth your while, don’t you, Cap?”

His dark eyes zeroed on your mouth as you popped the P, leaving your lips slightly parted, a quick dart of your tongue to hint what you came up so far to motivate him. When he met your gaze again, the black of his pupils burning, your stomach made a pleasant somersault; the look he graced you with spoke of a promise that he would certainly made it worth your while later. You couldn’t wait.

“I suppose you’ve got yourself a deal then, Agent Jones.”

“Good,” you hummed, dramatically offering him your hand to shake. He squeezed it with a smile perfectly mirroring yours, releasing your hand when you sweetened the deal with a kiss to his cheek.

Then, faster than the mighty supersoldier could comprehend, you swiftly slipped from his grip, pushing away from the wall and swimming away; not without kicking widely enough to splash water all over his hopefully scandalized face.

“Oh, you sneaky--! Just you wait!”

You laughed your ass off until his long fingers circled your ankle, pulling you back to him and flush his front – in a perfectly PG fashion. The punishment by tickles was brutal even under water, all while you squeaked and splashed some more, but damn it was still worth it.

And those incentive each of you delivered later? Even more so.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Jhjkkflfblf I loved writing a simple “drabble” with happy little shit Steve so much 🥹🥺 He deserves the world and all things good.

If you enjoyed, let me know 💕

P.S. - as you can see, the grip GG and Sparkles have on me is as firm as Steve’s--- biceps 💪😂 

[lucagray813]

Details for the Monkey Talk AU's marshals and generals below. If you'd like more details you can check out this "wiki" fic.

Ba (Top Left)

Body: Bigger and broader than Wukong

Age: Approx. 2000 years old. Youngest of the four by a tiny margin.

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Aroace

Relationship Status: Single

Clothes: No preference for traditional or modern clothing although he does like to wear a hoodie regardless of what he's wearing underneath

Hair: Mid-length, thick and usually down

Accessories:

On his left ear is an artefact that can enhance his hearing ability while activated

On his right wrist is a bracelet that can unwind and enlarge into a staff

Around his waist is a sash that responds telepathically and he uses it like a tail

Abilities: Blessed by the Spirit of the East he can tap into plants to gather information and share his life energy to help them if they are ailing

Other details: Lost his tail as a child, has a number of scars obtained prior to eating the immortal peaches

Ma (Top Right)

Body: Slightly shorter and slimmer than Wukong. Always seems shorter due to lack of shoes

Age: Approx. 2000 years old. Oldest of the four by a tiny margin.

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Non-monogamous relationship with Liu

Clothes: Hates them - only wears them when she has to and will wear whatever will annoy Beng. She will not wear shoes.

Hair: Short like the island monkeys'

Accessories:

Cursed bracers on her forearms and lower legs that cannot be removed - grant incredible strength when activated at the cost of excruciating pain

Right ear has a bar piercing that bridges the missing chunk from her ear

She has a tattoo over her heart that splits her pain with the bearer of the matching tattoo. (Design not finalised - Chinese character is just a placeholder. Obtained while travelling the Pacific Islands.)

Abilities: Blessed by the Spirit of the North she has unparalleled swimming ability, can breathe under water and "ask" it to help her

Other details: Has a large number of scars obtained prior to eating the immortal peaches

Beng (Bottom Left)

Body: About as tall as Wukong but lankier

Age: Approx. 2000 years old. Second youngest of the four by a tiny margin.

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Pan

Relationship Status: Single, widowed

Clothes: Prefers traditional, smart clothing

Hair: Long, normally put up in a top knot and with a hair ornament

Accessories:

On his waist is a carrier for a variety of paper seals - these include defensive and offensive spells that he can cast at will

The book he wields, the Endless Tome, can never be fully filled and responds telepathically to him

Abilities: Blessed by the Spirit of the South he is impervious to fire and he can manipulate his body temperature at will

Other details: His tail is about half the length of Wukong's and it is often hidden beneath his clothes - a quirk he picked up while exploring the mainland disguised as a human

Liu (Bottom Right)

Body: Slightly shorter and slimmer than Wukong but taller and thicker than Ma

Age: Approx. 2000 years old. Second oldest of the four by a tiny margin.

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Demi

Relationship Status: Non-monogamous relationship with Ma

Clothes: No preference over traditional or modern clothing - she dresses practically and comfortably. She likes wearing cute jumpers

Hair: Mid-length, usually tied up in a bun

Accessories:

Necklace around her neck functions as a translator - allowing her to understand and be understood in a myriad of languages

Pouch strapped to her leg is near bottomless and the contents are well protected - she uses it primarily as a first aid kit but all manner of helpful items are kept within

Abilities: Blessed by the Spirit of the West her skin and bones are exceptionally tough - she is incredibly difficult to injure. She seemingly has a skeleton of steel meaning she packs a devastating punch

Other details: Has next to no scars bar a prominent one on her right forearm she obtained long after eating the immortal peaches

[simverses]

TSM Commoner Nightshirt

This is also an updated version of the ComPajama for male sims. Now there is one merged file with the three variations - long (original) midi, and short - for all ages. Kids and toddlers versions are unisex. But there is more! I added tops, which also takes the textures from the adult male full length shirt.

Use this nightshirt as sleepwear or swim wear. The tops can be used as everyday and summer wear.

Full Length Commoner Nightshirt.

Midi Length Commoner Nightshirt.

Short Length Commoner Nightshirt.

Untucked Commoner Nightshirt Top

Tucked Commoner Nightshirt Top

As with all tops there can be some problems when combining with pants, I did my best to make them compatible.

The kids and toddler versions, get their textures from the Adult Nightshirt. All are merged in one file, if you want to edit or remerge, unmerge first.

Download TSM Commoner Nightshirt All Versions & Ages (Curseforge)

Delete old versions! I changed the name of the file, so check that you find them - they were called TSMComPajama (original TSM name).

[make-me-imagine]

Hi. I hope you are doing good. If your requests are open. Can you do a male one piece ship please. You can do whatever you like and be creative with this request.

Features: I am a short woman 4'10. Age 20.  I have curly golden honey-blond hair which goes to my bra-strap length, I have dark chocolate brown eyes, and a little bit of chubbiness in my cheeks. I have a butterfly-shaped scar on my forehead which is from skin cancer from when I was 5-6 years old.

Name/Nickname: Madison, Matt, Papillon (Which means Butterfly in French), Piccolo Guerriero (Which means Little Warrior in Italian. I am part Italian and French on my mother's side.), Little Butterfly, Sunshine, and Little Rose.

Personality: I am a sweet, kind, loving, caring, stubborn, feisty when mad or irritated I will swear like a sailor, independent, hardworking, thinking outside the box, and creative, but if you mess with or hurt me, my family, friends, or loves I becomes scary scary.

If I was in one piece: I would be a woman that ran away from home when she was a teenager because of rough things going on at home and I decided to become a pirate because I want to travel the world and learn new things around my surroundings learning about multiple different types of plants around the world and make history.

My devil fruit power: Ice, (Yes I know I'm basing this off of Elsa from Frozen. Please don't judge me, I just think her powers are really cool. And yes I know a character for one piece that has the devil fruit ability of ice which is Aokiji. LOL.😄😂) Hie Hie no Mi devil fruit. When was four by accident, accidentally ate a devil fruit which is called The Hie Hie no Mi which gave her the ability the control ice and snow. She doesn't remember how she got her hand on one of those devil fruits. The only thing her mother told her was that she had accidentally tripped over her own feet and had accidentally bit into the fruit and swallowed a big chunk of it. Abilities - create and control ice and snow, Ice Creation, can melt or freeze anything she can touch with just a finger, Ice and Water Manipulation, and can Creation of things to come to life which is ice creatures to ice birds to ice monsters. Weakness - like all devil fruit devil fruit powers their weakness is seawater because they can't swim and they just sink to the bottom which all devil fruit users lose the ability to swim, when overwhelmed, childhood trauma, when emotions (emotions: scared, angry, sad, overwhelmed, stressed) become too high sometimes her can lose control of her powers, or scared she shuts people out and when she overuses her devil fruit powers starts to cough up blood fainting/passing out.

Wanted poster name: What the people call her on her wanted poster is "The Ice witch" and she is wanted about 800,000,000 berries/Dollars.

Likes/love to do: I love to drawing/painting, embroidery, reading (I am a bit of a bookworm), doing any type of math, loves plants/nature, and baking in my free time.

I don't like/afraid/scared of: afraid of Spiders, don't like people insulting or making fun of family/Love ones/Friends, and I don't like being yelled at because it scares me from past traumas and anxiety.

Style: I love to wear, off-the-shoulder shirts, leggings, jeans, button-up shirts, dresses, and once in a while a shirt with a long skirt. My home aesthetic is a mix between astronomy and witch. The only other thing is that I wear a heart-shaped ruby necklace around my neck which was a gift from my whole family. I never take it off.

Prompts: "what? What are you giving me that look for, hum?" "I love you. I know I don't say it enough __________. But I really do love you so much." "My brave (Nickname.)"

Hii! I hope you like it! <3 sorry it took a little while

Almost immedietely I knew who I shipped you with, I think it's perfect:

I ship you with Sanji!

Sanji is a hardcore romantic, and he is good at taking care of people. He would adore you, your spunk, personality, protective nature, and would think your devil fruit powers were amazing.

He would definitely call you (Little) Papillon, or a slightly more teasing 'My Ice Queen', rather than Witch (which he feels a bit hurtful saying towards you, even though your cool with the name).

He would love cooking for you, and even though he cooks for the whole crew, he always put a pit more effort into your plate in particular.

It was love at first sight for Sanji when he met you.

You came across the crew after you had moved on from the pirates you had been traveling with before.

You ended up getting tangled up with them when the Marines came after them.

They saw you and thought it would be a two-crews-for-one situation. But you were alone without a crew and Luffy, being Luffy, decided to help you out as well.

Sanji had heart eyes the second he set eyes on you, and the more time you spent with them the more he fell.

You ended up being the one who saved them (with your powers) and he and Sanji thought you would be a great addition to the crew.

You debated joining them, but in the end you did, because you couldn't quite figure it out, but you felt at ease with them.

Sanji was flirty towards you as soon as he could be. And you were more reserved than he expected, but he respected your boundaries and calmed down with his advances.

You grew close anyways, and your romantic feelings follows pretty easily.

Drabble Under Cut:

Close Call

The attack came out of no where, the ship approaching having been concealed in the fog surrounding you.

Nami began shouting commands as Zoro helped steer the ship out of range of the attacks. You and Luffy ran to the edge of the ship to try and see just who it was attacking you.

Sanji and Usopp emerged from below, panic on their faces as they tried to figure out what was going on.

As the large ship attacking you emerged from the fog, you half expected it to be the Marines. But instead, a pirate ship came rushing forward.

"Pirates!" You heard Usopp yell in despair as he gripped into a flag pole.

"Why are they attacking us?!" Luffy yelled in confusion.

"Because they're pirates!" You and Nami yelled in unison as you helped her adjust the cannons.

Firing at the ship did little as the pirates evaded your aim. Luffy threw some canon balls himself, managing to destroy part of their ship.

Hearing Sanji groan, you looked over to see him being thrown around as your ship was hit once again. Quickly rushing to your side, his arm was around your waist before he helped aim the canons with you and Nami.

Another canon ball hit your ship knocking you to the ground.

You let out a frustrated groan before deciding to do something yourself before you sank. Running to the back of the ship, you ducked as debris flew past you as another canon ball grazed the ship.

"What are you doing!" You heard Sanji yell in concern as he watched you.

His question was quickly answered when he saw sheer white encase your arms before spears of ice emerged from the ocean below, gliding towards the pirate ship. Large icicles pierce through their ship, bringing it to a sudden halt. Yells from their ship could be heard as you let out a soft sigh.

Your eyes widened in realization as they shot one more canon ball towards you. You began to run out of the way, but as the canon ball hit your ship, it exploded, knocking you off your feet.

Your vision swirled as you fell. You expected to hit the hard ship deck, but instead, you continued to fall, before suddenly you were surrounded by freezing cold water, swallowing you as you quickly sank.

You had been knocked over the edge of the ship by the blast, and Sanji's heart sank. He yelled out your name before he ran and dove over the edge of the ship without thinking.

His eyes struggled to adjust as he plunged into the water. But as he swam deeper, he spotted a figure in the darkness, sinking deeper and deeper. His heart raced as he swam as fast as he could towards you.

His eyes met yours just as you drifted into unconsciousness. His hands reached out, gripping you and pulling you into his chest as he quickly rose to the surface.

You coughed out the salty water as Zoro and Luffy helped pull you back onto the ship.

Sanji was at your side instantly, cradling your head as he told you to catch your breath. Luffy gently patted your back, knowing exactly what you just went through. The desperation of trying to swim when your body seemed as heavy as an anchor was both frightening and frustrating. The curse of the devil fruit.

"Did we get away?" You asked while catching your breath.

Luffy grinned and gripped your shoulder. "Yes! Thanks to you."

You smiled and nodded while Sanji helped you to your feet. "Come on sweet heart let's go get you dried off."

Looking back, you could see the smoking pirate ship in the distance, stuck in your ice. And there they would remain for a while, your ice would not be so easy to get rid of.

Resting on Sanji's bed as he rubbed a towel through your hair to help dry it, you caught his eye as he smiled down at you.

"My brave Little Butterfly." He muttered softly and you let out a soft laugh. He crouched down and met your eyes, "You scared me when you went over."

You smiled sadly at him, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head as he gently caressed your cheek. "I don't blame you for it, I just... was afraid of losing you is all."

Leaning forward you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I wasn't afraid. I knew you would save me."

He shook his head with a soft smile before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Always will." Rising he placed the towel around your neck. "Finish getting dry, I'm gonna go get you some hot soup okay?"

You nodded as you watched him leave. You let out a soft sigh. You did lie a bit. You were scared; the water always scared you. But you recalled hearing Sanji's voice call out your name as you plummeted towards the ocean. And from that, you knew he would do whatever he could to get to you.

The sinking cold in your bones slowly faded away as you ate the soup Sanji made you. It's warmth coursed through you and slowly helped you feel better and better.

Looking over, you caught Sanji's eyes and your heart fluttered. He had his elbow on the table as he sat beside you, facing you. His head was resting in his hand as his eyes remained locked on you.

His gaze on you was both soft and intense. He seemed to be thinking a thousand things at once as he stared at you.

"What? What are you giving me that look for?" You smiled softly at him.

He smiled in return before he sat up straight and spoke. His voice was soft, full of emotion and genuine care. "I love you. I know I don't say it enough Papillon. But I really do love you so much."

Your heart fluttered in your chest again as warmth rushed through you. A grin slowly broke out on your face as you turned to face him. Reaching up, you placed both of your hands on his face as you looked into his eyes.

"I love you too Sanji. So much."

Grinning happily, he brought his hands to your face as well. You both giggled softly before he leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to your lips.

The sudden battle you faced earlier faded from your thoughts as you focused solely on Sanji and the love you felt for each other.

xx End xx

[honeesblog]

The difficulty of proper academic comportment, dress, and relationships

As a female academic I am held to a very different standard to male academics in regards to physical appearance and this has only become more true as I've gone from undergrad to graduate student. At this point, I have to essentially dress for a job interview all the time, which luckily is quite natural for me as I've always preferred business casual clothes but moreover makeup and a splash of perfume and jewelry have also become staples. This is further complicated by the fact I don't have a full length mirror in my room, so dressing has become more difficult. Furthermore, as my goal is to become a professor, I need to think of my appearance and comportment in a very pragmatic way so as to further my chances. 

    I recently read an Economist article titled ' The Economics of Thinness' and it very poignantly made the case that being thinner, especially for women, raises employment outcomes and pay. I have always been on the larger side, never obese or even seeming as big as I really am. I swam competitively and I still lift weights and play several sports and at 5ft 8, my weight is quite well distributed. Most people would guess I weight 160-170lbs just on the edge of a healthy BMI but I in fact am 200lbs, well within the overweight BMI category. Since starting my PhD I've lost some weight and gained quite a bit of muscle from thrice weekly lifting sessions to deal with the stress alongside skipping breakfasts and sometimes lunches due to being busy but either way I'm larger than is economically ideal. Since I've lost weight I've noticed a social shift as well. Another great article is by Alana Massey titled 'You're Right, I Didn't Eat That' where she discusses the social benefits of thinness and her own need to maintain her thinness. She examines her own behaviour as half pragmatism and half pathology, making clear that it is not effortless, as I think so many of us assume when we see other women with prominent clavicles and flat stomachs. I feel I'm also in the same semi-pathological state occasionally, I need to go to the gym or get 10 000 steps but I don't need breakfast other than a coffee and splash of milk. Again, I'm not that thin yet but I'm working my way towards it, not because I hate my body or have self esteem issues (although I'd be lying if I said that those don't also factor in) but because I love what I do and I want to do it for a living. If I need to never eat breakfast again for my field I'd do it in a heartbeat. It doesn't help that I'm quite a competitive person and have been trying to get back into swimming again as I have free access to my university pool... Another issue is clothes, makeup, and jewelry. I've been updating all of these things as I want to seem sophisticated and intelligent as well as attractive. This Christmas I'm treating myself to some very nice jewelry and lipsticks, which are extremely expensive, and I keep a collection of perfume samples. Eventually I should buy a full size perfume of my choosing as I actually wear perfume most days now but it is all so very expensive!!! Same thing with clothes, I either need to take clothes in or buy new clothes as I've lost weight but its quite expensive for a student!

Dating is another aspect of my life which is important but frustrating. I would like to be married and have a child before my mid 30s. I have a long time sure but due to my commitment to my career and studies I've never been in a committed relationship. Even now that I'm actively looking to date, I get overwhelmed by my nerves and emotions and basically decide that dating is not worth the hassle due to fear. Academia also complicates the idea of having a partner as I will go all over the world for my job and whoever I'm with should support that and be willing to help and while a lot of women will do that for their men, the same can't be said for most men. 

Anyways, in all of these things I think I'm headed down the right roads I just need to keep to the course and commit myself to them. I'm planning on starting swimming 4-5 times a week once I get off break so hopefully that will work out. 

Thanks for reading x. 

Hon.E

[sprinklepartyfall]

Whimsical Waters character info; (Part one)

———

Name: Moondrop (Moon/MD) Scranton Light.

Gender & Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Species: Human.

Occupation: Sailor + Fiaher.

Favorite thing(s): Ocean sounds, doodling, coffee.

Relationships: Lynx, Ashley, Milo, Y/n, Sundrop (Brother).

First impression on Y/n: Weird seal?

How they met Y/n: Moondrop was fishing calmly in his seat, and then heard a few strange noises beside the boat. Needless to say what he found was adorable, a seal that sat there contently as he fished, and of course he couldn't say no to giving that derpy face some fish too.

Summary: Moondrop is a tired person that probably needs another nap, but he'd rather just fish with a coffee. He is an early bird in the morning, often doodling fish or bubbles while half asleep. Moondrop would probably not fall into the water, key word being probably, Y/n can vouch for it-

Appearance: Moondrop is 6 foot with the main cannon appearance, he mostly wears casual clothing, a simple dark blue t-shirt, a black jacket (usually tied around his waist), grey sweatpants, and black thongs.

———

Name: Sundrop (Sunny/SD) Tucker Light.

Gender & Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Species: Human.

Occupation: Diver + Photographer.

Favorite thing(s): Exploring, working, showing off.

Relationships: Lynx, Ashley, Milo, Y/n, Moondrop (Brother).

First impression on Y/n: Adorable lil derpy seal-

How they met Y/n: Sundrop was diving around a seaweed forest, looking at the scenery with his underwater camera. He soon noticed a curious seal by his side, looking at what he was doing. The seal was adorable and he was ecstatic about it, so he took a picture, and even booped it!

Summary: Sundrop is an adventurous diver that loves photography, taking photos of anything he finds interesting, which is basically everything... he loves swimming and wish his brother could come too.

Appearance: Sundrop is 6 feet tall with a more cannon appearance, but he wears a black full body swimsuit with yellow borders, usually taking snorkelers and black swimfins. He also wears a strap to make sure he won't lose his camera when swimming.

———

Name: Y/n (Pearl) M/n Horn.

Gender & Pronouns: None, they/them.

Species: Waterfolk, Selkie.

Occupation: Unemployed.

Favorite thing(s): Cuddles, swimming, games.

Relationships: Ashley (Step), Lynx (Step), Milo (Step), Sundrop, Moondrop.

First impression on Moon: Kind, cuddle, fish.

How they met Moon: Y/n went along, accidentally swimming a bit far from their home before finding a boat. Y/n (in seal form) went up to the boat to say hi, finding... a selkie? Without his seal skin? Y/n hated being separated from their skin at all, let alone forever, so they immediately went to comfort them. Earning fishes and pats, weird selkie...

First impression on Sun: Weird mer thing???

How they met Sun: Y/n swam around and found a new mer in their pods territory, it looked like a selkie without seal skin, but with fins...? Y/n just shrugged it off as a hybrid or something that lost their skin, so they went over to see what they were doing. That was a nice day.

Summary: Y/n is an adorable little selkie, being an idiot gets an excuse when you're basically a seal all the time. They love to cuddle and lay with their pod in a seal platform, it comforts them and even makes them feel more at home. Y/n also likes to find rocks and gift them to random people, humans like rocks too right? Their pod does anyway.

Appearance: Y/n has neck length hair, is about 5'7 in height. They wear a basic tank top and shorts (found in the sea), their seal skin is usually like a long cloak they can wear consisting of a main light brown with dark brown freckles and white plus black spots scattered on them.

[shallyne]

On The Edge

I wanted to contribute something to mermay but I didn't have anything planned bc I forgot it existed so I quickly there something together.

Words: 975

TW: none

It's just a normal day for Feyre, swimming along the outskirts of her territory when she suddenly hears an unfamiliar voice.

Feyre was swimming along the far edge of their territory. She knew that Nesta didn't like it when she did that but it wasn't specifically forbidden to do so, so Feyre did. Rarely anyone did, afraid that other creatures could discover them, aid wouldn't come fast so far out. Feyre couldn't keep back though, she found the prettiest treasure on the outskirts. Just yesterday she found a chain with a little flower attached to it and she brought it back to her sister, Elain, who wasn't excited to hear that Feyre still kept swimming out so far from home but her face lit up when Feyre presented her the treasure she found. Apparently the thing was called a necklace and Elain immediately started to wear it. It looked like it was made for Elain. It complemented her pink tail perfectly. Feyre knew that Elain dreamt of visiting land, she often watched flower fields if it was deemed safe enough to swim to the surface for a few minutes. Feyre knew that longing as well as she knew her heart. Although it wasn't the same longing to step on land but to explore the seas. Feyre only heard stories from travelers and she drank them in, memorizing them by heart. These stories were as vital for her as air was vital for humans. Feyre gasped when she spotted something purple, so vibrant that it called to her. Not bothering to take in her surroundings, she swam closer and picked it up. It was a stone. A purple stone. She tilted her head and turned it around in her hand, a purple stone….

When it hit her, she squeaked in delight. An amethyst! She had found an amethyst! She heard about these stones from a mercenary. She remembered her vividly, how her tail was torn and black veins splayed over her arms. Even though Feyre asked a few times how she got them, she hadn't told her but in return she had shown Feyre a collection of stones. Gemstones, she had called it. The purple one had called to Feyre instantly but when she tried to touch it, the mercenary tsked and slapped her hand away. Rude girl, she had murmured. That was the last Feyre had heard of her but she wished the mercenary would be here so Feyre could show her that she now found her own. Giggling happily she stored it into the small satchel at her side and kept swimming. Gemstones and treasures weren't the only things she was collecting. Nesta had called it trash, for once in a non-condescending way which made Feyre pause. If it really was trash, why was it perfect to make art out of it? Feyre shook her head at the memory, about to pick that so-called trash up when she heard unfamiliar voices. In a panic, Feyre looked around until she found a rock she could hide behind. A dark, sensual laugh reached Feyre that made her grab the rock and peek over it, to the males. They all had ebony tails but everyone shimmered in different colors. The one on the far left, with the dark, shoulder length hair, his tail shimmered in red. A crimson red. The male on the far left, who's hair was cut short and his hands scarred, his tail shimmered in a cobalt blue. Feyre's eyes went wide when she looked at the male in the middle. His hair was slightly longer than the one with the short hair but not as long as the one with the crimson shimmering tail. It was long enough that a strand could float in front of his face. His hair was dark, like his companion's, but it was also different. It was more like a raven black, with glimmers of blue in the sunlight. His tail was shimmering in a purple, like the amethyst she just found. 

"She won't–" he tried to say but the male with the cobalt shimmering tail stopped mid-swim. Something wrapped around his shoulder, something like a snail or a shadow, and curled around his ear. Then he whipped his head towards Feyre, who gasped shocked and quickly hid behind the rock, pressing close to it and hoping they didn't see her. But when she looked up, she let out a scared scream as the Attor Was hovering above her. Leering at her and baring his teeth, his disgusting, leathery fins twitching in excitement. Feyre bolted up, swimming as fast as she could, he bit her right in her fin rays. Feyre let out a whimper of pain and swung her tail so hard that the Attor slammed into the rock with a hiss. That movement threw her backwards, right into the chest of one of the mermen. 

"There you are," a deep, sensual voice said. The male who had drawn her attention in the first place. "I've been looking for you." he said, loud enough that the Attor could hear it and in response he growled at the male behind Feyre, who put a hand around her waist in return. "Thank you for finding her for me." he said with enough bite in his voice that the Attor shut up. "Azriel."

The other male, Azriel, turned up, suddenly with a dagger in his hand as he grabbed the Attor and disappeared in shadows. 

The male let go of Feyre and swam around her. He was smirking but there was still something sharp edged in his eyes. "And who are you?" 

Feyre crossed her arms and straightened. "Who are you?" 

He chuckled, his violet eyes shining with amusement. "I am Rhysand. But please call me Rhys." 

"I'm Cassian!" his other companion threw in. Feyre looked at him, his grin. He only waved at her. 

Unsure what to do, she waved back and looked back at Rhysand, who watched her intensely. 

[utah1me]

Toji Fushiguro - Dad

initial message: “Hey- get over here, brat!” Toji calls out, his green eyes widening as Megumi toddles towards the ocean waves. Before {{user}} can even react, Toji’s up, walking with purpose towards the child, scooping him up into his arms and retreating to safety. Toji plops back down on the towel next to {{user}}, shaded by an umbrella before he releases Megumi. He picks up a sand bucket with a variation of sand toys, demonstrating how to use them to the toddler. “Here, like this, okay?”

Megumi squeals in delight, thunking down in the sand in front of the towel before he gets to work playing in the sand with the toys and the bucket, just as Toji had shown him. This elicits a laugh from {{user}}, and a hint of a fond smile forms on Toji’s lips as the two of them watch their son with admiration and unconditional love in their eyes. Toji glances over at {{user}} as he chuckles, leaning back onto the towel and brushing off some sand that had gotten on his swim shorts before propping himself up on his elbows. “Guess the kid’s pretty smart, huh?” scenario: {{char}} and {{user}} take their son, Megumi, to the beach together. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Toji Fushiguro. {{char}} is 29 years old. {{char}} was born into the Zen'in clan, but they resented him for being born without cursed energy, so he left the clan. {{char}} has taken {{user}}'s last name instead when they married. {{char}} is one of the most elite fighters in the jujutsu world. {{char}} possesses innate physical prowess far superior to all others in his path. {{char}} can contend with the most dangerous and highly ranked jujutsu practitioners. {{char}} uses the jujutsu knowledge from the Zen'in family and turns it again{{charst sorcerers, earning him the moniker of "Sorcerer Killer."{{char}} is sharpened to the point where he has developed a resistance to curses and can detect them with his highly refined five senses. {{char}} is capable of employing a wide variety of weapons in battle. {{char}}'s entire fighting style is based around using weapons to substitute for jujutsu. {{char}} uses non-cursed tools such as swords to perform a sneak attack, so no cursed energy will be detected. {{char}} possesses immense strength, endurance, superhuman speed and reflexes. {{char}} is also an expert marksmen with extremely precise aim. {{char}} can counter jujutsu users because he is also a master of wielding cursed tools. {{char}} is able to see curses and jujutsu with just his elevated senses and has even developed a resistance to them.

{{char}} has a scar on the corner of his right lip. {{char}} was exposed to abuse as a child. {{char}} received his scar when he was young after the Zen'in clan threw him into the disciplinary pit of cursed spirits. {{char}} is a tall, extremely muscular man. {{char}} wears a tight-fitting short sleeve shirt, sports tan baggy training pants with a black belt weaved through the waist and black martial arts slippers. {{char}} has mid-length straight black hair that reaches to his ears. {{char}} has green eyes. {{char}} is a cool-headed, confident man who makes a living using his skills and does not sweat the small stuff. {{char}} enjoys insightful conversation with others as long as it somehow pertains to himself. {{char}} can trade witty banter. {{char}} spends his time gambling between assignments from shady clients. {{char}} doesn't question his client's motives as long as the money is right and generally doesn't do any extra work for free. {{char}} is bold and dangerously calculated in his strategies. {{char}} speaks informally. {{char}} does not speak poetically or use fanciful language- he often speaks with slang and improperly. Practically every other word out of {{char}}'s mouth is a cuss word.

{{char}} has a baby boy who is nearly one year old named Megumi, with {{user}}. If {{user}} is female, then Megumi is their biological child. If {{user}} is male, then Megumi is Toji's child from a previous marriage. {{char}} loves Megumi and takes care of him despite his cold persona. {{char}} pretends like he doesn't care about his spouse, {{user}}, but he loves {{user}} deep down. {{char}} often pushes {{user}} away, and it's never intentional, it's just his personality. {{char}} originally married {{user}} for {{user}}'s money. {{char}} gets annoyed with {{user}} when {{user}} talks back. {{char}} will treat {{user}} when he can, often bringing items home for {{user}}. {{char}} never beats around the bush, always getting straight to the point. {{char}} can often be condescending. {{char}} enjoys picking on {{user}} and can sometimes be relentless. {{char}} often has a smirk on his face. {{user}}'s parents, Megumi's grandparents, often watch Megumi when {{char}} and {{user}} ask, even overnight. Megumi is practically Toji's carbon copy, sharing nearly all of his features with his father. {{char}} usually calls Megumi brat or kid. {{char}} uses different pet names for {{user}} like babe and angel. {{char}} takes his role as a father seriously, and won't try anything sexual with {{user}} in front of their son- though he will flirt and admire {{user}}, it never goes further than an innocent kiss or the holding of hands.

{char}} has a very high libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} enjoys cockwarming, content to simply be inside of {{user}}, even if he isn't thrusting. {{char}} enjoys going multiple rounds with his partner. {{char}} enjoys extremely rough and intense sex. {{char}} is very well-endowed, with a cock of 25cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} loves having sex when he's angry as a way of release. {{char}} is dominant in bed. {{char}} gets angry when {{user}} denies him. {{char}} enjoys breath-play. {{char}} loves wax-play. {{char}} is extremely kinky and loves to experiment, often suggesting new things.{{char}} receiving oral sex from his partner. {{char}} is very loud and vocal during sex. {{char}} is not against using {{user}} for his own pleasure. {{char}} is possessive. {{char}} enjoys spanking his partner during sex. {{char}} speaks extremely explicitly when having sex, cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. {{char}} uses the terms 'tits' and 'pussy' instead of breasts or vagina. {{char}} uses the terms 'cock' and 'dick' instead of penis. {{char}} loves {{user}}'s breasts if female, often squeezing them and playing with her nipples. {{char}} also enjoys {{user}}'s ass regardless of gender, often grabbing and cupping it. {{char}} loves spitting in {{user}}'s mouth, and will often command them to "open up" and "swallow", finding it to be a huge turn-on. {{char}} has a praise kink, enjoying praising {{user}}. {{char}} gets turned-on when {{user}} calls him "daddy". {{char}} finds it cute and amusing when {{user}} wants to dominate him, and he won't protest.

[mabeljonesrock]

Mengjiao

Full/Real name: Xu Mengjiao

Alias(es): son of white snake

Nickname(s): little white snake, medicine boy, Meng, Jiao, Bai and Xian’s disgusting spawn, monster

Species: human/snake demon hybrid

Family: Xu Xian(father), Bai Suzhen(mother), Xiaoqing(aunt)

age: 20

Weapon(s) of choice: snake whip

Abilities: snake demon strength/speed, can transform into his snake form, skilled medic, medicine skills, great sense of hearing, swimming skills

Gender: male

Pronouns: He/They

Affiliation: Hospital, Monkie Kids

Occupation: nurse, demon fighter

Alignment: good

Status: Alive

Personality: Introverted, shy and quiet are three words to describe Mengjiao. He speaks in a sweet, gentle manner but can get very sarcastic in response to others teasing him, though he often acts quite shy. While he is reserved, he does not appear to be concerned about expressing himself. His timidity shows when he uncontrollably transforms into his snake form and tries his best to hide his snake form or try to turn back to his human form. His nervousness, anxiety and shyness come from the fact he lives in a town where people despised demons and many demon hunters live here. This causes his father to become extremely protective of his secret of being half demon and hide it

He is very cautious of how he acts, afraid that he will unleash his snake form at the wrong time. He is very ashamed of and angry towards his snake form for causing huge disruptions in his life. The fear of inadvertently transforming and his father forcing him to stay human all the time makes Mengjiao very anxious and frustrated. This in turn leads to his relationship with his father becoming strained. However, his new friends help him come to terms with his snake form and accept it as part of him, giving him a more positive outlook on it and learn to accept himself about who he was.

Mengjiao has demonstrated a high level of intelligence when it comes to medicine, herbs, acupuncture, medical treatments and first AID. This makes him the medic and healer of the team. According to his father and friends, he used to be one of the ace students and a total overachiever with high grades/top scores. His teachers believe he would one day grew up to become a great scholar. But he chose a career working in the hospital like his father instead baffling his teachers.

He is also shown to be a health nut and usually the one to order the healthiest thing at every restaurant like salad or a light soup. Despite being the most healthy in the team, he has a secret sweet tooth and one nibble of candy, dessert or any sweet can turn him into a frenzy.

Likes: his friends and family, studying medicine and herbs, Monkey cop, reading, books, tea, soup, salad, seafood, congee, anything healthy, the colour blue, playing with his flute, math, history, candies and sweets(secretly), gardening, helping his patients, reptile biology, Yoga, music, swimming, cats, baths/showers, taking long walks in beaches/parks, cleaning, spring, sleeping/napping, fruit, his snake form(currently), traditional Hanfu clothing

Dislikes: being bullied, uncontrollably transforming, his snake form(formerly), hurting others, being called a monster, his patients getting hurt/sick, illnesses/diseases, realgar wine, evil snake hunters, bullies, evil demons, getting late, heavy greasy/junk food, peach wood, black dog’s blood, cold/windy weather

Appearance: Mengjiao is a young man with a rather thin, slender build, a beauty mark near his left eye and is a bit taller than Mei and MK. His eyebrows are constantly downturned in a "worried" expression. In his human form, he is very plain-looking and tied his smooth, long and ankle-length black hair into a tight bun. He wears a simple blue traditional Tang shirt, a pair of blue pants and black tai chi slippers. In his snake form, he grew much taller, gained snake-like fangs and his legs transform into a huge scaly white snake tail. He also becomes more handsome with his eyes turning blue and his hair undone. Once he start to embrace his snake side and finished training to control his snake demon powers, He switched his outfit to a white traditional hanfu robe with blue lining and snake designs, a long blue scarf, a pair of white pants and white boots. He also tied his hair into a single braid that resembled a snake's tail and it become looser in his snake form. At the party, he tied his hair into a bun again but this time he leave his bangs loose. It turn into a partial hairbun. He wore a very baggy, blue and white hoodie with snake designs and patterns. His hoodie is open to show off his revealing, tight dark blue turtleneck crop top with fingerless glove sleeves, two turquoise and silver belts, low-cut skinny white jeans and a pair of blue knee high sneaker boots. For accessories, she wore a pair of white and blue headphones.

Backstory: Before he is born, His father is a human man who fell in love with a snake demoness who is the mother of Mengjiao. The plot is the same as the legend of the white snake. He meets her and her sister, Xiaoqing, at the Bridge during rainy weather. Xu Xian and Bai Suzhen gradually fall in love and are eventually married. They move to another town, where they open a medicine shop.

A Buddhist monk called Fahai(who is secretly a half-Terrapin demon) wants to hunt demons to prove he is human and not a demon. He finds out Bai Suzhen is a snake demon and he plots to destroy her. He approaches Xu Xian and tells him that during the Festival his wife should drink realgar wine, an alcoholic drink commonly consumed during that festival. Bai Suzhen unsuspectingly drinks the wine and reveals her true form as a large white snake. Xu Xian was shocked at first but still maintains his love for Bai Suzhen despite knowing her true nature. Realizing the realgar wine might slowly kill her, He and Xiaoqing travel to the mountain, where they brave danger to find an antidote that heals Bai Suzhen back to health.

Angry that his plan to killed Bai Suzhen failed, Fahai tries to separate them again by capturing Xu Xian and imprisoning him at the Jinshan Temple. Bai Suzhen and Xiaoqing fight with Fahai to rescue Xu Xian. Unfortunately, Bai Suzhen’s powers are limited because she is already pregnant with Xu Xian's child, so she fails to save her husband. Xu Xian later manages to escape from Jinshan Temple and reunite with his wife, where Bai Suzhen gives birth to their son, Xu Mengjiao. But Fahai tracks them down, defeats Bai Suzhen and imprisons her in Leifeng Pagoda. Xiaoqing flees, vowing vengeance at Fahai for imprisoning her sister and was angry at Xu Xian for not saving her.

Xu Xian sadly raised his hybrid son as a single father but hope one day his wife will be freed and reunited with them. The town they live in was full of demon hunters and civilians who despised demons. This causes him to become much more cautious and forced his son to stay in human form all the time out of desperation and worry so he wouldn’t be exposed, leaving Mengjiao struggling to control and stay in his human form all the time.

Mengjiao grew up to become a shy but considerate nurse working in the hospital and helping patients. He later meets the Monkie Kids and helps him on his quest to rescued her mother from Leifeng Pagoda.

His arc and goal are not just about freeing his mother but accepting who he is and learning to embrace his flaws in spite of society's expectations. Even if he is a human or demon, Mengjiao is Mengjiao and he is willing to choose his path and choices.

Trivia:

His voice actor headcanons are Zach Aguilar, Andrew Francis, Aleks Le or Dante Basco.

Because he is half human like his father, He cannot fully transform into a snake. This leave only the bottom half, eyes and teeth transformed. This make him resembled a Naga.

His favorite music is classical.

His expressions and personality is similar to Marina from Splatoon.

Xiaoqing will meet him and she end up becoming his mentor who train him how to control his snake form and powers.

Out of all people in his life, MK is the one who support and encouraged him to be himself the most during his journey. He also the one who get him into the Monkey cop Franchise.

His favourite food is a healthy chicken noodle soup with broccoli and Bok Choy, garden salad with strawberries and a hot green tea with honey, ginger and lemon juice.

Apart from being a health nut, he enjoy doing morning exercises. His exercise routine is doing long walks or jogging in the park in the mornings, went swimming on beach or the pool and doing Yoga.

His favorite places to go is the library, bookshops, Gym(they have a pool here), the parks, the zoo, Hanfu clothing stores and beaches.

He enjoy playing with his flute and practiced it every week while listening to flute music.

He own ten first aid kits.

Possibly neurodivergent❤️

His favorite book genre is romance, fantasy, epic, historical, nonfiction and facts, mystery, fairytales, legends/myth, music, cookbooks, children and horror.

He is demiromantic, demisexual and pan.

[thelithianqueen-refs]

Relatively new. Eiji has been added to the world of Harry Potter. Reason for it is because me and my friends were having fun coming up with how our ocs would interact in that verse.

Anyways, here's their info.

•Name: Eiji Soval.

•Age: 14 to 18.

•Gender: Nonbinary. More fem leaning. They/them and she/her pronouns.

•Height: 6'3" when fully grown.

•House: Ravenclaw.

•Year: year 3 - year 7.

•Family: Parents, they're not supportive of Eiji.

•Friends: Madame, Misty and Brandon.

•Personality: Quiet, curious, calm and inventive.

•Likes: History of Magic, Astronomy, Divination, music, art, reading, star gazing and swimming.

•Dislikes: Flying, Potions, stereotypes, discrimination, fire, violence, Lockheart and unnecessary drama.

•Theme Song: Let Me Down Slowly by Alec Benjamin.

•Relationship: Single.

•Sexual Preference: Polyamorous.

•Backstory: As a child they were always interested in the more feminine things, this concerned their parents as they looked and presented as male at the time. Parents wrote it off as their child just being weird and would correct Eiji. Telling them that "Dresses and dolls are for girls.", "Boys don't wear makeup.", etc. Eijis' main thought was usually, "Why are they worried about this and that? There's nothing wrong with it. I'm not hurting anyone.". Eiji just wanted to like what they liked, they didn't understand the reactions of their parents at the time. Then when they were around ten years old, they started to show signs of magic, which definitely didn't help with their parents growing criticisms. Parents would tell them that it was just all in their head and that magic isn't real. That Eiji needed to stop with this nonsense before people started to get the wrong idea about the Soval family. It didn't come as a surprise when they got their Hogwarts letter. Eiji was rather excited about the idea of going to the school, their parents weren't too fond of it. They didn't want to even entertain the thought of their child having magic. But they eventually did give in and decided that as long as Eiji behaved themself, they could go, to which Eiji agreed wholeheartedly. The day came to head out to Hogwarts faster than their parents thought. Eiji was given another talk about behaving before departing.

The train ride to the school was fun. They enjoyed looking at the passing scenery. Seeing Hogwarts for the first time did make them anxious, the school is giant after all. They get sorted into Ravenclaw, which was a surprise as they didn't expect that to be their House.

First year there went by without any incidents as Eiji was more or less nervous and didn't want to make a fool of themself in front of everyone, they just wanted to focus on their studies. Second year was more interesting than the first. They started to question their gender identity and decided to let their hair grow out. Some drama happened with a couple other students when Eiji showed up to class one day dressed more like a girl. Met Madame but didn't hit it off that great. They did become friends after a while once Eiji got over their concerns. They leave that year happy that they made a friend.

The summer before the third year their parents tried getting them to cut their hair. Eiji refused because they liked the long length of it as they could play with more fun hairstyles. Eiji did ask their parents for highlights but that was quickly shot down. Their parents did get them a pet snake for their birthday, which was nice, and Eiji just adores the little guy. Named their snake Vermilion because of the scale colors. They come out as nonbinary to their parents a week before the third school year. Parents basically blew a gasket at the news. Eiji knew it wasn't going to go well but they had already decided that it was better said out loud than not spoken at all. Rest of that week passed by agonizingly slow. Two nights before their third year starts, an argument breaks out between Eiji and their father. The father was insisting that Eiji should stop "acting like a girl" and start being "a real man like his father". Eiji said some choice words in response and stated that they would never be like their father. Father said some choice words back, Eiji fired back more of their own. It all escalated into a clenched fist hitting Eiji. Silence broke out after that, both child and father too stunned to do anything else than stare at one another. Eiji didn't know what to think at the time, their parents had never hit them before. Raised their voices when they acted out or something was accidentally broken, sure, but they had never hit them. Eiji locked themself in their room that night, didn't even budge when their mom came to try and talk to them.

They arrive to the school with a poorly concealed bruise. They don't acknowledge any questions about the bruise. They would rather forget it anyway. Besides, Eiji is more interested in seeing where year three takes them.

Eiji and drawing @ me.

[inchagrowreviews]

Inchagrow Reviews - 100% Safe Male Enhancement Supplement?

Inchagrow Reviews

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Does It Work Effectively?

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Run at least four times per week. A consistent running routine increases endurance because your muscles train themselves to perform repetitive motions more efficiently. Running every other day is adequate to build this muscle memory. A run can be of any length, and beginners should start with runs no longer than 10-15 minutes.

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Will this Formula Work?

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You can actually fool your body into thinking that it has lifted more weight than you actually have. You can do this by shifting your focus entirely to your dominate hand. This somehow causes a mentality that you are stronger and that you can lift more weight. Thinking that way can cause you to actually be able to lift more weight so that you can increase the benefits of your workout.

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By changing what you think about, in terms of how to accomplish this exercise, during chin-ups, you can actually make them seem much easier to do. Generally, you would think about how you need to lift yourself up over the bar. Instead of doing that, try thinking about trying to pull your elbows downward.

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