#maybe it feels like it’s trying to help you but it’s actually just keeping control over you

[for-those-who-wait]

Hey I think I asked you about your Detroit become human au before a bit ago but I love the idea so much! I know you’re super busy but if you can I would love to see more about it!

Sorry for asking about it again I’m just really interested in it. 😭🙏

No please don't be sorry I love to talk about it whenever I'm not creatively bankrupt!! I'm just sorry it took so long for me to actually think of new stuff to add

I had some of these doodles already prepared but never really finished them up until I came up with a cute little idea

I didn't think of where to put in Flapjack until I remembered that android animals existed, and then I had a brain blast moment where I realized that Hunter can still talk to Flapjack! They are little android buddies, they can interface and talk and be friends!! I think it would also help to make him feel a bit more comfortable with his identity as an android to be able to have his little buddy to have fun private conversations with. Camila introduces them (maybe he had gotten hurt by a previous owner and she found him and let Gus fix him up) and Hunter is a bit tentative about it at first, but Flapjack is adorable and sweet and quickly wins him over

I just now had the idea that Gus, since he's super into android stuff, would probably be a big resource for software and hardware difficulties. Oh, you fell and your arm is working kinda wonky? Call up Gus, he'll crack you open and take a look. The dude doesn't mind in the least, he freaking LOVES going down mechanical and coding rabbit holes to better understand how androids work. I like to think that if Hunter ever got hurt and chose not to accept help because of body/species dysphoria, Gus would be a really good resource for him to try and feel as normal as possible while he's getting fixed. Gus is his brother and he loves him and they're just good to each other okay? Gus would probably crack some jokes or something to get Hunter's mind off it, or infodump about android organs or something (and Hunter would be begrudgingly interested because they are nerds, and Hunter is interested in androids too underneath all the problems he has with deviancy. Like dude they're robots, what's not to love?)

Also some Gus being so over Hunter's "androids can't feel love" phase featuring Vee and Masha being very adorable and very obviously in love :) Hunter is a very silly stupid man. He will find any way to make literally everyone exempt from the terrible rules Philip fed him, except for himself

I'm trying to think of a potential situation that would parallel Hunter's possession, and I think it would probably be basically the same thing that happens in Connor's deviant path (when he deviates and joins the revolution as an ally) where Amanda (a separate AI in his programming that's basically how CyberLife keeps him in check) takes over Connor's programming last minute to try and put a stop to the revolution.

So my current thought is that Philip is basically using Hunter as a trojan horse. His main programming is to act and believe like he's a normal human but similar to Connor, he's basically a sleeper agent without knowing. I imagine that once Hunter gains access to his software (thanks to Vee and Gus), he starts finding programs and files that are labeled as pretty scary things. He shouldn't have to know the most efficient way to shut an android down or incapacitate a human.

If and when Philip finally goes looking for Hunter and sees the first android he's seen in Gravesfield besides Hunter (aka Vee), he's not going to take that well.

I haven't drawn anything for it but so far I'm thinking that he takes control of Hunter's programming, maybe through some taking advantage of his interfacing system, and locks him in his own head a la Connor and Amanda to sic him after Vee and Flapjack (assuming that Philip's main goal, similar to both canons, is to eradicate deviants). It's likely that his friends will try to apprehend him, Vee or Gus will try (and maybe fail a couple times) to delete the programming while Camila deals with Philip. The guy is old and decrepit and Camila would absolutely whoop his ass with the ease of swatting a fly.

Things will be fine; Vee is all good and they manage to delete whatever programming screwed with Hunter's control, but that kid is going to be HELLA anxious about interfacing again from then on since he's afraid of 1) losing his own control and 2) potentially passing the virus onto someone else. It could go two ways at that point: Hunter could either kill Flapjack since Flapjack is technically a deviant android and therefore a target, or we can be nice and let Flapjack live to help him heal from this brand-new trauma.

So yeah hopefully that sates some curiosity! I'm glad you're interested in it because I honestly really love to think of new stuff whenever my brain decides to work hahaha

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 5 | Whispers Of Madness

summary: ever since one unfortunate day, you havent felt the same mentally. The dark entity that now permanently stabled a special place in your mind, making you go more insane with each passing minute. Whenever you try to reach out for help to the one person you trust, being your best friend matthew he always argues that nothing is actually there and your brain is messing with you but you know more than youve lead onto. Are you going to finally shatter and possibly lead to murder, or maybe finally banish the evil living inside of you?

warnings: ANGST, demon possession, dark entity, murders, mental health issues, satanic language, dark topics, suicide, police involvement, heavy language, blood everywhere, choking, skin bruising, mysterious black goop, viewers advisory is supervised! Proceed continue reading caution!

authors note: somehow we’ve made it to day 5 of consistently posting fics wohoo !! This one took me a portion of my time and this week has been pretty busy for me so I’m surprised I got this far, hope yall enjoy this bc I surely did writing it

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

Ever since that unfortunate night, I have never felt the same mentally nor physically. A constant demonic voice mocking my every move and slowly driving me towards insanity, flashes of a dark entity remain stuck and impossible to get out of my mind, making me want gouge my eyes out to escape through death. Sometimes i dont even recognize myself in the mirror, just noticing each and every one of the changes in my physical apperance as well as my behavior and I think if others noticed them too or do am I the old me to them? or have I never actually changed and my mind can somehow create physical forms of different versions of me on its own?

- The night of the incident

I slowly stirr awake in the middle of the night due to strange noises my ears keep picking up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand I glance out the window to see nothing but pitch-black ahead of me. The soft moonlight being the only available source of light pouring into the room, my eyes scan the dark room for a possible source behind the strange noises. Its almost like whispering but not human whispers in particular, almost like a demonic voice... yeah no, demons dont exist so there no such possibility. Just to be sure Im not going completely insane I do a double check but now looking harder into the dark to try and justify the source of the noise is nothing harmless.

Thats until I see something dark looming in the corner of my room.

It appears to be a shadow but with a dark and demonic energy radiating off it, my eyes scan the whole silhouette and get stuck on a pair of brigh red eyes staring down at me becomes imprinted in my mind permanently which sends a cold chill down my whole body, making me rise in awareness and fear, my body immediately waking and becoming completely stiff, my abilty to move vanishing from my grasp of control. The dark shadow figure starts to step closer to me and my instincts kick in, subconsciously backing away from the proximity of the red-eyed creature as it stands at the foot of it. "W-who are you?" I shakingly breath out, my mind becoming consumed with fear and theories that this could possibly be the end of my life.

The red-eyed figure doesnt make a sound or a single move, my breathing now labored and heavy as it continues to stare down at my shaking form. Feeling completely vulnarble and defendless, it’s like theres no escape and I've been trapped, even cornered in the dark depths of my mind. "Agite... Tenebrae... Abyssi..." I hear a faint demonic whisper, identical to the ones I've heard before and realize where its coming from. Suddenly I get a shock down my whole body, almost as if a feeling of being possesed or something possibly entering my soul and attaching itself to it.

I convince my overthinking mind its nothing and Im just imagining things now, this is not real. Demons dont exist and they surely can't possess you, right? it cant be real, its not. Shaking my head to throw away any possible negative thoughts left behind and lay my head back down on my pillow, attempting to sleep of the demonic energy I still feel coursing through my veins. My mind manages to slowly drift off to sleep, my eye lids falling heavy as I slip into unconsciousness but the demonic whispers still remaining surrounding the shell of my ears.

- A month after the incident - Present day

A sudden snap of Matt’s fingers in front of my face kicks me out of the negative energy in my mind, him giving me an unamused expression and sighing. “You seriously weren’t paying attention again?” He annoyingly huffs, his lips becoming a thin line as his arms cross over his chest. “I’m sorry, I was just-“ while I am in the middle of my sentence and want to explain myself, the demonic whispers cut me off and start whispering in my ear until I look around and see him. The red-eyes creature. No matter how hard I want to take my eyes away from him, they just refuse to move alongside with my body. Just becoming frozen all of a sudden, “What? Are you good?” He stammered visibly shadowed with concern, his eyes darting around the room to find the spot my eyes are stuck on but is met with a simple empty room.

“What are you staring at?” He pondered, still in desperate search to find something I could possibly be staring at with such horror contouring my features. My breath starts to become more deep and shaky, the same feeling I felt coursing through my veins every time it appears, it’s almost like it’s making its appearance known before hand. Matt finally snaps me back to reality, jerking one of my shoulders to give him a response to his worried questions, when I look at Matt’s face and back where it was standing. It’s gone. It’s not there anymore. “Where did it go?” I mumbled with a trembling bottom lip, becoming tense and more aware of my surroundings. “What do you mean by ‘where did it go’ ? You’re fucking freaking me out Eli.” He inquired, still anxiously looking around before moving closer to me. Immediately noticing me tense up for some reason he doesn’t have the knowledge of and I just wouldn’t speak about it.

“It’s fucking not there anymore! It’s gone, again!” I clutch Matt’s arm into my chest, seeking any comfort and safeness I could get a grasp on. The whispers start again, this time approaching me closer until I feel a faint icy breath breathe down my neck which makes me flinch. “ǨḐlēʃ-tū yǫur crēāṭōr, ǝLizaʊƃth…” my hands immediately go to cover my ears, the satanic words echoing in my head and bouncing off every wall, almost delivering me a headache. Under my breath I keep begging it to stop, to release me from the hellish cage it’s trapped me in against my will just to torment and demolish all that’s left of my soul that it hasn’t destroyed yet. My mental health wasnt the best before and it just got worse after, I reached out for help to everyone I could but they either called me schizophrenic or ‘completely gone off the rockers’ by professionals, refusing to help me and ignore the actual issue.

“Is it this again? Seriously Eli, you have to stop scaring me like that!” He argues, becoming slightly annoyed. No matter how much I tell him about this mister lurking in the shadows, he just says ‘you need to get some professional help or go to a psychiatrist’ but when I tell him the stories regarding the ‘getting professional help’ that they ignore me and don’t believe demons actually have a possibility of existing. “You didn’t believe in this demon shit and always denied it, why do you suddenly act like you got possessed by a damn demon or something?” In that moment it hits me, the realization and theory of being actually possessed by a demon hits my head and if we’re an object I would possibly get a concussion.

“I’m not! It’s just that… oh, forget it. It’s gone now so it doesn’t matter.” I state, taking a deep breath to wash away all of the emotions I’ve been feeling at once in a single moment. It’s shocking how much my body can take and has taken ever since it appeared in my life, or does it? Maybe my mind likes to think and make it seem like I’m doing good but in reality I’m loosing my mind completely? When is it going to end? How do I make it end? Questions rise in my head as I start to overthink and get my anxiety to an impossible level. “Eli, what the fuck has been happening with you? You seem completely psychotic like those possessed girls in horror movies.”

“I-I don’t know what I am at this point, please just go home and stay safe. I’ve scared you enough already I don’t want to give you a heart attack” I breathe out, gesturing for him to go away as I my ears perk up with the demonic soft whispers coming back, the dark figure standing right in front of me. I immediately cover my ears as the whispers get louder and louder, suddenly I feel a pair of cold hands wrap around my neck and pure force starting to pull me upwards into the air. I become short on breath as Matt freaks out and quickly runs over to my body in the air, now being face to face with the black figure. My arms immediately attempt to remove the arms off my neck for more air but it only tightens its grip, Matt pulls at my feet but it’s not much affective. The red gloomy eyes staring into my soul and twisting my insides with the dark energy possessing my body.

The world around me becomes silent and I can’t hear whats happening around me. “Ǩo ǃàdêr ȯf Ḑoom, ʔou Ƀhall kjømbāť ʔo ʃiln Ǫne ȯf ḏhe ʔeḥples ȯf Ꮑȯvær lǟv or ʔe ťæpt ǝn ḟi ʃhyād ǷārtǤ, ȯy ʗhǯice ElizǞbeth. ȶime Ƀ is spiraling ȯut…” the sentence constantly keeps being repeated until my ears start to bleed but I don’t feel blood coming out of my ears, some kind of cold black goop starts to escape through my ears as I finally get released. Falling back onto the ground with a loud thud and coughing hysterically, the pain and bruises spreading across my body as well as deep purple marks saturate my neck. I feel this sudden urge, something driving me up to my breaking point, willing to do anything to escape this hell.

Matthew quickly runs over to me, examining my body and the bruises left as horror and concern fill his features. “A-are you okay? Are you bleeding anywhere?- oh fuck!” He stammered, noticing the mysterious black goop coming out of my ears. His eyes were so focused on my body he didn’t notice it at first, seeking as if he couldn’t handle all of this happening at once and neither was I but he was scared out of his mind when I was left with no emotions in my face. My mind backtracks to the demonic words spoken to me and somehow I feel I know what to do, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m some kind of puppet in a show being controlled on how I’m supposed to act, I pick myself up and walk towards the kitchen while ignoring the concerned questions falling from Matt’s mouth.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this but I can’t live like this anymore, he follows behind me and into the kitchen. My body starts to almost move on its own as if someone else had full control over it, reaching into the drawer where all of my knifes are kept and pick up the sharpest blade I own. Rising it into the air and turning to face Matthew, his anxiety immediately spikes to ungodly levels as he puts his now trembling hands. “What are you doing with that? Elizabeth, put it down!” Desperate demands leave his mouth in attempt to make me out down the possible weapon in my possession but I don’t listen, as much as I don’t want to do it, I might be my only way of escaping.

I charge at Matthew and stab him in the chest multiple times as hysteric cries leave my mouth while he screams bloody. His blood squirts all over my clothes and stain them, he falls to the ground and quickly I jump on top of him to weight him down and deliver a stab to immobile his arms, more blood covers our clothes, faces and the floor all together as I continue to cry out apologizes and explanations. “I’m sorry… I have to do this, I’m so sorry, Matt I’m sorry but I have to…” I cry out as blood and tears run my cheeks, to end the miserable pain he is experiencing I swing high into the air, gripping the handle of the bloody knife with both of my hands before apologizing for the last time and plunge the knife through his head which kills him in an instant.

My hands finally detach from the knife and immediately go up to my face, wiping off the blood and pouring tears from my face. Loud sobs fall from my mouth at what I have done, I just killed my best friend. Out of pure cold blood I killed my best friend, I-I’m a monster, a psychopath and everything fucked up. I am the demon… the demonic figure whispers another sentence in the weird language it has been using ever since trying to communicate to me but now it sounds more evil, like curses stuck to my name by the black shadow and following me around anywhere I go. “Ǫne lǻst stȅp ǵhǵn ɓe dǿne, ȵaM Ƀǿ̃e ȅt Ƀe ǵhǵe ȶǿ Ƿȯrld ȩfree, hāv ǵʍоḏ tɼȯ ḏon sǿlf ɴǿw. Ḕdǿn ḥesīṭȅte, ȅLīzǝbeth.”

The same feeling of knowledge runs down my spine, realizing what I’ll have to do next in order to be set free. My hands go back and take the knife out of Matthew’s dead body and line the sharp tip with where my heart lies, I close my eyes shut and with one swing I plunge the cold bloody knife into my heart. My body falling down next to Matthew’s already dead one, hearing the faint sirens of police in the distance as I slip into unconsciousness but by the time they make it to the kitchen, my body disappeared and only with the bloody knife left on the ground. It was evident two people have been killed in the process regarding the blood bath that was created but no matter how long or how hard they searched for my body, it was just gone. Almost as if a dark entity dragged it down with them to the deepest pits of hell…

Guestlist!

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[mkzmerryfriend]

*cracks knuckles* we know Tyler isn’t the original Clancy right? Y’all caught that? Clancy’s bishop was Keons, Tyler’s is Nico, and now “Clancy” is Tyler. Because “scaled and icy” is an anagram for “Clancy is dead” and that album was the one where dema was using Tyler’s popularity for their own purposes. Clancy failed to stop the cycle on his own, and despite already being used as a figurehead for dema, Tyler decided to take up the role of “Clancy” in the wake of what seemed like a total collapse of the Banditos. Their leader had been taken out, and now they had no one to organize them.

But Tyler taking on the name Clancy isn’t him taking on the role of leader or even organizer. He is showing us (the Banditos) that we all can be our own inspiration, we don’t need a figure to follow, we don’t need a leader to lead us. We can do this, fight dema, ourselves.

Y’all got that, right?

[piplupod]

mistakes were made. should not have gone to library today. i will be leaving the house all five days of the week now (plus we went to a waterside on sunday for several hours) and uhm... i feel like i need to go hibernate for several weeks to feel even remotely okay again fhdkdl i am so tired i can barely think enough to string words together in any comprehendable way 🧍<- upset

[numberone-wifeguy]

05/07/24

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be cokming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[alastorss]

Gosh I love all of your posts! 😘 I was wondering what your thoughts would be on Alastor trying to court his darling? We all know he’s a gentleman at heart and is very proper. So how would he go about trying to win them over?

• He wouldn't tell anyone except for a very very small select few that he thinks he wants to be more with you. Maybe only Rosie honestly. The Great Radio Demon would never normally ask for help but this is uncharted territory for him

• Rosie would be so excited, acting like a gossiping wine aunt and doing her best to direct Alastor

"You know how you treat Vox? Don't do that."

"You know how you treat Lucifer? Don't do that."

"You know how you treat—"

"Rosie. I get it."

• He does his best to save you a seat beside him whenever he's lounging in the lobby. And even though he wouldn't let you into his bedroom, he would definitely let you know that if you ever need anything at all, you can come find him at any time

• Would know your favourite breakfast, lunch and dinner and regularly have it made for you. You technically don't have to eat anything to survive but he likes the way your eyes light up when you see what's waiting for you downstairs anyway

• Usually he hates when people get near him before he can do it to them—he likes the control he has invading other peoples' space and not when it happens to him

• But he actually enjoys the feeling of your hands and how gentle you are. Has 0 qualms about you being touchy with him because unlike when others get too close, he feels no malice from you. You make him feel comfortably safe

• Alastor would 100% be overprotective of you even if he's not directly hovering over your shoulder. Always keeping an eye on you when you go out and discreetly stepping in when others are too handsy with you

• He would play old tunes for you on the piano, staying up with you well into the night just to watch you sit on the back of it and listen with a smile

• You're not from the same era so he tries to learn about all the technology from your time, even though he despises it

• Eventually others get the hint that Alastor might see you as more than just a friend and try to set the two of you up in their meddlesome ways

"Here they come!" Angel sticks out his leg to trip you and you conveniently fall right into Alastor's arms. He would raise a brow but not question the help.

"I'm sorry!"

"Quite alright, darling."

• On that note, knows that you get a little flustered when he uses pet names so he makes sure to call you his dearest/darling often

• Has you fix his bowtie in the morning. Like, he purposefully leaves it a little undone so that when he sees you, you immediately have a reason to be near him

• When walking with him, he'll always link arms with you and treats you like royalty

• I can't imagine him actually asking you out or anything, he just started acknowledging you as a companion and you went along with it

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 (send an ask to be added!)

[beatrice-otter]

I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.

You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.

I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.

On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.

Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.

On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?

First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:

Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).

Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.

Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.

Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.

So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.

Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.

Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.

Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.

And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.

I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.

But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.

"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."

Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?

[hoshifighting]

Hello,

So I was wondering, would you be able to write something about cock-warming with Seventeen? If not OT13, then maybe just Hoshi?

This is my first time making a request and I absolutely love your writing! I look forward to seeing your new posts every time I open the app!

Thank you 😊

cock warming with seventeen

seungcheol: he’s gritting his teeth, telling you to “sit still” ina scolding tone. man is holding on for dear life, hands on your hips, fully committed to the whole “stay still” command even though he’s just as worked up. he gives you this look that says “one wrong move and it’s over”—yet he’s lowkey loving how hard it is to keep himself together. eventually, you shift just a little and he’s like, “oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” ready to wreck you right then and there.

jeonghan: he’s the absolute worst tease about it. why would you choose HIM to do that? he got that little smirk, acting all unbothered, whispering about how needy you look just sitting there on him. he’ll brush his fingers over your hips, trailing them up your spine just to mess with you. every time you try to move, he’s like, “uh-uh, baby, stay still.” you know he’s having fun watching you squirm, and he’s definitely making it as drawn-out as possible.

joshua: gives you sweet little smiles while low-key dying inside. he’s got that hand on the small of your back, running his fingers there just to keep you close. he’ll whisper all these sweet nothings, telling you how “perfect” you are, and every time you clench or move a little, he shudders, just waiting for the second he can actually move.

junhui: oh, he’s got no patience. he’s sitting there, already hard as hell, and you’re making it worse with every tiny shift. he laughs it off, biting his lip, telling you you’re “gonna regret testing him.” jun’s the type to nudge your hips a little, just to get a reaction, muttering stuff like, “if you keep doing that, don’t blame me for what happens.” he’s a mess and doesn’t even last.

hoshi: he’s like, “why did we even think this was a good idea?” wiggling around, not even pretending to keep still. every little movement makes him lose it just a bit more, and he’s already breathing heavy, wet as fuck. you both know he’s absolutely hopeless at staying still, but the boy’s trying, just loving the fact that you’re driving him up the wall.

wonwoo: he’s calm on the outside, hands steady on your hips, acting like it’s all fine and dandy, but you can feel that bro is almost melting in that game chair. every time you move, he’s biting the inside of his cheek, giving you these intense, dark-eyed looks like, “don’t test me.” he’ll stay like that as long as he can, but little to go snapping.

woozi: this man is a brick wall, hands locked around your waist, practically daring you to move. he’s got a total death grip on his self-control but gives himself away every time he swallows hard or clenches his jaw. determined to make you stay still until he’s ready.

minghao: so de-stressed, it’s unreal. he’s got his hands tracing gentle circles on your back, just enjoying the closeness but totally into it. every time you shift, he just hums, getting more and more fired up. you can tell he’s feeling it, breathing deeper, pressing you closer, but he’ll still try to play it off. he’s in no rush but is totally giving in soon.

mingyu: man’s a mess, plain and simple. he’s holding onto your hips with his nails almsot, wide-eyed and flustered as hell. he tries to be the big and strong boyy he is, but every little move makes him gulp, giving you these desperate, needy looks. probably ends up blurting, about how much he needs to fuck you.

seokmin: so flustered, you’d think it’s his first time. he’s trying to stay calm, keeping his hands on your hips to keep you in place, but he can’t help it; every time you shift, he’s turning red, letting out little gasps, unable to keep himself from reacting. he’s all, “oh my god, please, just—stay still!”

seungkwan: so worked up, it’s ridiculous. he’s like, “this was the worst idea ever babe!” but his hands are glued to you, like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. he’s torn between panic and total enjoyment, all red-faced and muttering how he’s ��seriously trying here.” you can tell he’s struggling, giving you little pleading looks.

vernon: silent but done for. he’ll just sit there, eyes wide, hardly breathing as he holds onto you, doing his best to stay in control but you can see the struggle. every little movement you make has him gripping your hips harder, like he’s hanging on by a thread. probably mutters, “you’re evil,” under his breath, fully aware he’s about to cum like this.

chan: incredibly sweet, probably nervous but also very into it. he’ll laugh softly, maybe trying to make small talk just to keep both of you calm, but the longer you stay like that, the more it drives him crazy. he’ll whisper, asking if you’re okay, gently reminding you to stay still but clearly enjoying when you clench or ride him a bit, especially when you both start to give in a little. BUUUUUT—he waits for you to break first.

[violenteconomics]

twst first-years that unconsciously pick up their upperclassmen's toxic character traits.

ace starts to act more temperamental and confrontational whenever something happens outside of his control. he's more anxious than anything, but it comes out in the form of sharp words.

(after so many overblots and life-threatening situations, he feels as if he could maybe put a stop to it if he had just a bit more control over other people.)

deuce lets other people mistreat him and order him around without putting up a fuss. he hates conflict and arguments more than anything, and is willing to do anything to keep things calm for a few more minutes. on the flip-side, he's not afraid to beat someone into submission if he has to, even if they're not wronging him on purpose.

(that's how trey and cater did it. riddle didn't overblot back when it was just the three of them, so clearly, things would've continued to be just fine if ace and deuce hadn't set them off, if they'd just been more like their juniors--)

whenever jack helps someone out, he starts expecting things in return, and the same logic applies whenever someone helps him out. it can never be a genuine thing. he's always standing with bated breath, waiting until the moment somebody tries to get leverage over him, or until he needs to cash in a favor.

(leona and ruggie are never genuine-- with themselves, with each other, or with him. with them, there's always, always a catch.)

epel starts getting really snide and sarcastic whenever someone doesn't meet up to his standards or says anything he disagrees with. but vil doesn't believe anybody who complains about it to him, because epel acts perfectly normal otherwise.

(why should epel be the only one targeted? why shouldn't other people feel that shame? why does he have to cater to other people? why can't people ever try to please him?)

ortho, who begins to think the worst of people all the time, even before ever meeting them. you have to do quite a lot to convince him that you mean well, and you better do it fast, or he might actually laser you for saying the wrong thing.

(people in this school are so mean sometimes. they don't try to understand idia. they don't try to understand him. even idia doesn't understand him, sometimes. awful, awful, it's all so awful.)

sebek becomes intensely vengeful over anybody who wrongs him, with his payback ranging from harmless things, like putting a frog in someone's bag, to dangerous endeavors, like setting someone's broom on fire mid-air.

(lilia lied. silver cried in his arms. if even malleus can do his most loyal companions wrong, anyone can. it's only fair that he gets a bit even every now and then. they deserve it, all of them.)

yuu is so disinterested in anything that's going on. they'll pretend to help, only to leave or disassociate or make excuses after excuses or just flat-out turn out to be completely unhelpful, with almost no attempt to prove the contrary.

(so many pretenders in this school. nobody's ever helped them out, so why shouldn't they return the favor?)

it's generational trauma that continues to be perpetuated throughout the years at night raven college, that's what i'm getting at.

[whore-ibly-hot]

THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!

Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.

(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...

◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.

"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."

He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.

He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.

He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.

"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.

◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.

You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.

He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.

He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.

He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.

"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"

"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"

☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.

He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.

He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.

He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.

"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."

☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.

When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.

As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.

"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."

☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.

Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.

If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.

"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.

[werecreature-addicted]

okay so what about a werewolf that struggles with cumming too fast, or at least what he considers to be ‘too fast’, and being extremely embarrassed and ashamed of it. He just cant help chasing his release once he's inside you. the look on his face of him trying to hold himself back, and that look of ‘fuckk not this again’ when he’s about to cum

reader trying to comfort him afterwards, not revealing that she's secretly reviling in the fact that he’s so desperately turned on by her that he can’t control himself. When he’s trying hard to hold back, she tries to force him over the edge. Like when he needs to take a minute break to stop himself from cumming, she does kegals when he’s still inside and him, making him cum against his will and being extremely embarrassed about it

"I-I'm sorry," your werewolf lover whimpers, his breath still ragged from his orgasm. his cock throbs inside of you as he unloads himself into your vice-like cunt. his knot twitching with needs as it swells, trapping your inside. Werewolves were supposed to have inhuman stamina, but he's lucky if he can last a few minutes inside your pussy.

It's not his fault, the second he pushes the head of his dick into your wet heat he just goes brain-dead. He's not even thinking, his body moves on his own slamming his hips against yours over and over again until he cums, which, again, is usually pretty quick. God help him if you ever try cock warming. He slides inside of you in one motion and not a second later he's babbling about how he can't actually do it, he needs to fuck you and can't just sit there.

"I'll make it up to you I promise- the second my knot goes down-" he doesn't know what he'll do, let you ride his face maybe, if he can't make you cum on his dick he can at least make you cum on his tongue.

"It's fine baby," you say. You'd never admit it, but you love how rough he fucks you, and how he's practically cumming before he's even bottomed out. it's so sexy what you can do to him. You hope that he's telling the truth when he says he's never had this problem before, you hope that your pussy is so good he can't help but cum quick.

It's so hot watching his brain turn off the moment you get his dick out of his pants. He really does fuck you like an animal, just hard and rough until he's shooting ropes inside of you. Maybe it's a bit sadistic, but you like how whiney and pathetic he gets when his head clears and he realizes you didn't get to cum.

"I can cum just like this," You reach down and start toying with your clit, reflexively your walls tightening around the cock half-hard cock still inside of you. His body goes rigid like he just got struck with lightning.

"fuck- don't do that, fucking brat," he snarls, but his growls quickly turn into soft whimpers as you keep flexing around him, your pussy sucking him deeper, if that was even possible.

"gonna cum again, f-fuck I'm going to give you all my cum, I've got so much for you," he whines

"oh no you don't, you don't get to cum twice before I've even finished once. hold it for me, maybe this will help improve your stamina," you snap back, you hold him by the back of his neck and make him look you in the eyes as you cum around his cock. He barely manages to hold on, the second he feels you flutter around him he's spilling a second load of semen into your sweet messy pussy, strings of cum leaking out the edge of his flared knot. he collapses on top of you, blurring his face in the crook of your neck.

"w-was I a good boy?" he asks, speaking directly into your skin,

"very good boy," you assure.

[lifeonmarz-blog]

Pluto through the houses: Synastry

1st: Both people have a way of prying under the skin of the other bringing all the insecurities they thought were hidden to the light. It can be almost jarring and abrasive. Even though its not intentional they pick up on it so naturally they probably didnt even know they hit a wound. This relationship may come about at a time when your self image and public persona is going through a change. Lying about that image can also be an issue here. Lying to protect how the other views your life. A lot of glamorization and intentional avoidant of details. These two can be mesmerized by the persona of each other. Pluto person is almost thirsty for the attention of house person. House person likes the attention but is much more nonchalant about it maybe even a little scared of plutos intensity. Their upbringing emotionally is similar but may not seem similar in the physical aspect of it. People could look at this couple as an odd pairing. It can seem taboo for one or both of them. You can tell that they were attracted to the darker aspect of each other. Its pluto so you know the power dynamics are being tested, pluto person is controlling over the house person. Sometimes that could be to extreme extents. They want their full undivided attention always. If pluto person releases their grasp this can be a very powerful magnetic couple. Manifesting with ease through how others view them together.

2nd: Pluto person ''levels'' house person up, this could be financially or with plutos image but essentially both people add to each others persona. The flow is more natural if the woman or more feminine person is the house person. Wishful thinking could be a problem here because this is actually a very romantic placement. The way love is expressed if very comforting and ideal for both people. Theres a mutual taste in the type things you enjoy so it becomes easy to believe you might not get this somewhere else. The dates are very fun and the couple loves to show each other off. This is one of the easiest houses to create abundance in as a couple. Balancing work and love is an obstacle, if both parties aren't equally as committed to setting aside time together. It can easily become a situation were someone feels neglected. It takes a certain amount of emotional detachment to have a long lasting relationship with this placement. Id say this is a more subtle place for pluto to be it isnt as harsh as some of the others.

3rd: Challenging each others views is almost second nature. Both help each other think outside the box. Their perspectives usually differ quite a bit so it makes for interesting conversation. Pluto person redefines how house person approaches business and relationship matters, offering constructive criticism that the house person usually appreciates. This placement can be nice for an entrepreneur and their partner. Pluto person sees house persons gifts and wants to help refine it. House person teaches pluto person new ways of achieving goals. Too much focus could be on career matters and the relationship could be on and off one or both parties could make excuses for why the communication isn't consistent. One person can try harder to keep the relationship together the other avoiding emotional intimacy. When things are smooth they view each other as the ideal partner then the communication waivers again. Pluto person encourages house person to come out of their shell. If you have any fears about expressing yourself without guilt or shame. In its positive this relationship will help you feel comfortable being yourself without judgement.

4th: Pluto person reminds house person of family member usually a parent. For better or worse. These two came together to unlock something in each others DNA, realizing something about their worth or finding a new sense of gratitude. They mesh well into each other, operating like they've been together for years even if they just met. This connection could've been established through insecurities or for financial benefit. There could be insecurities around how much more money one person makes over the other or secretly competing with each other. This relationship could demand a lot of time and attention being distracting to the career of one or both parties. Or on the flip slide someone can feel unseen and lonely falling to the backside because of the career of the other. Emotionally there's a feeling of being unfulfilled like something is missing. House person views the pluto person as their ideal, perfect match even, The childhood of these two was similar. They share similar wounds around the upbringing. Others may look at this couple and think why are they together? They don't care how people view them they have an understanding between each other. They view each other as someone they would want to have a family with. They are very giving towards each other the energy balances well they know the unspoken things that would make you smile. They fit well into each others families. This person can feel like your calm space, enjoying spending time together at home.

5th: They both love children and can want to have a family together. If they have pets they treat each others pets like their own. They see the beauty in each other and want show their partner off to the world. They introduce each other to a lot of new people blending into each others friends group really well. Power struggles can create tension because they could feel like the other person plots on how to have power over the relationship.Pluto person has a lot of control over the emotions of house person. House person may try to play it cool but pluto has a hold of them. Pluto person wants to lead the relationship but house person may not be okay with that. Public arguments could be familiar to them. It doesn't even have to be an argument but people can tell when they aren't on the same page. They can try to make each other jealous when there out together. Its exciting to see each other worked up. House person could want more public affection so the jealously feels reassuring. This connection could've started at some sort of get together or the first few times they were around each other there were other people present. They could embarrass each other in public flirting with someone in public in the lower natures. This connection feels very familiar to both people. They could feel like siblings not in weird way lol but just the way they were raised and how they think, its very similar to each other. They have alot of fun together. It takes both people back to childhood. This could've started as just friends then turned into something more.

6th: Friends to lovers type of vibe. This match could've been unsuspecting. Knowing each other for a while but just now deciding to give love a go. Theres a lightheartedness about this connection. Both people are just seeing where it goes without pressure or expectations. No expectations may not be the best thing though, it may keep these two in a cycle of unknowing. They can feel like they manifested each other but question if their ready for what they asked for. Self worth issues play a big role here. Theres changes that need to be made internally to make this connection work but one or both people are reluctant to change. Holding onto the past wounds from relationships. Making the assumption that everyone is the same. The energy in this connection can be unbalanced. Someone feels they aren't good enough for the other or thats implied by the other person. Routine are a topic of conversation, they could feel insecure about how they spend free time and feel the need to lie about what they actually do or feel uncomfortable about always doing the same things. On the flip side they can give each other better physical and mental habits, showing more efficient ways to get things done. Living a more healthy lifestyle and thinking more positive. They love spending the morning together getting ready together. The type to make sure you've ate and check in just to see how your doing. They show love by being reliable. This is the type of couple that would discuss what their gonna wear so their outfits are similar. They could have a busy schedule and have to plan time together. Meeting up could always feel so exciting because of the timing factor. Teaching each other how to be honest about your needs and expectations could be hard but pluto is in the 6th house for a reason.

7th: Pluto person wants to show house person off to everyone. They feel like they really got a catch and wants everyone to see how special house person is their very proud to be with them. They want to invest in each other, bossing up each others aesthetic and or finances. In the lower octave the masculine energy fears the feminine is attracted to them mostly because of the money or gifts. The masculine can have insecurities around their worth so they lead with money but then still feel unloved because they led with materials. Both people couldve came into the relationship with insecurities about the physical body they make each other feel confident and dissolve the previous thoughts. They want the same things in life, sharing the same values. Be aware of the promises you make not getting carried away in excitement and not being able to uphold it. Or vise versa the actions are more important than the words. They could've meet on social media or in a work setting. Theirs interest around what each other do for work. Something about the career is attractive to the other. They bounce ideas off each other and help further their career advancement. Maybe even working together. They don't mind putting pressure on each other to maintain a level of structure and refinement. They watch your social media pages fantasizing about the two of you together. Also something about the way this person dresses you either love or you just want to dress them yourself.

8th: At first they could've found it hard to completely give into this connection and avoid true intimacy. Serious commitment is important for them they aren't into flings, they do things with a purpose. They view the relationship from a practical standpoint and analyze how this will contribute to their lives and how much they are willing to give to make it work. When the bond is proven to be strong they want to share their resources. They can give too much though then build resentments about not feeling the energy is being reciprocated. A lot goes unsaid, trust issues and resentments are lurking in the shadows. On the stingier side pluto person doesn't want to share their success with house person or they want house person to jump through hoops for it. They love sharing information with each other. This couple can be a mystery to others. They dont share much about their relationship preferring to keep things private. They notice the friends their partner has that dont have their best interest at heart. Self esteem and codependency issues could show face. The arguments they have are intense. Triggering unspoken insecurities in each other. This relationship builds the confidence of each person. Your a safe space for each other without judgement. On the flip side its important to focus on your own identity and not get to caught up in what your partner thinks. Change because thats what you want to do. Learning to relax and go with flow will do this couple well. Except that everything cant be planned and controlled. This placement creates a solid foundation for a long lasting relationship.

9th: These two share a lot of experiences together. They've been a lot of places together, been seen in a lot of rooms together, everyone knows that these two are together. People cant take their eyes of these two wanting to be in their business. This placement really makes me think of youtube couples.Transforming each other preparing for the spotlight. They really boost each others popularity. They love to be seen out together but that makes sense because they get alot of attention. They share a lot of similar interest and love to combine ideas. An example would be two musicians making songs together. Wounds of hyper independence makes being available and being of service something that really brings them closer together. Traveling together is really looked forward to. Traveling also doesn't have to be physical, a lot of mental shifts happen in this partnership. You really get to witness the growth in each other. In the lower natures the ego wars are strong here. Both people don't wanna feel like their submitting to the will of the other. They make each other chase, a lot. Outside influences cause a lot of friction in this relationship. Other people could know when their at odds with each other. Both like to go back and talk to friends or the internet about whats going on. The arguments are PETTYYYYY. They affect each others self esteem alot.

10th: Proud of each others public image, the work ethic and goals align. These two make a good team they share alot of similar ideas so they naturally go towards the same direction. Creating a business together could be a good idea. They look very aesthetically pleasing together and both know this, using it to their advantage whenever they can. This connection could be stop and go or have taken a while to really get off the ground. It seems there was always something else taking attention away from growing the spark. The more dominant energy could subtly restrict how much the other person expresses themselves. Power struggles and feelings of having to fight to have your opinion heard may present but thats the perfect time for them to assert their own beliefs. Which will always be respected in any healthy relationship. Putting on a brave face when things might not be so well is something that attention might need to be brought too. You cant have support if your not honest about your needs. The relationship could be different behind closed doors than what they present to the public. An example is seeming serious in public and maybe not that affectionate but much more goofy and relaxed at home. When traveling together may be a time frustrations really appear. One person could me more relaxed with how they do things and the other could prefer to have a schedule and routine in place. They could also want to do the same things but at different times. They feel a responsibility over each other, they stand up for each other.

11th: There is a lot of love to go around. Friendships, familial relationships and business relationships are equally as important as intimate relationships to this pair. This is a very busy couple that has hands in many points they both have hobbies or responsibilities that take up a lot their time. Double dates would be really fun for them. Doing physical activity together really grows this bond as well. Beware of how much money your spending when together. Yall like to have fun first and consider cost second. Trying new things together is something that really brings this couple closer. They love surprises and spontaneous dates. Both people are very good at vetting out potential partners their very particular about who they show interest in. The fact that you two came together you take the union serious and both require the stability of a solid foundation. This started as a friendship then grown to become more serious. You didnt expect to meet this person when you did. Meeting through other people, spontaneously or online. The friend groups of these two are different they can also come from different cultures or have different upbringings. In the lower natures someone could want to much freedom, they dont want to put ''tittles'' on the relationship. Favoring partying and keeping the vibe light and friendly. Pluto person could try to use house person as a status upgrade. Like the gateway to other groups of people. Im sure they would just call that networking though lol. This relationship can lack a long term vision. One or both people can feel like they aren't worthy of a ''normal'' functioning relationship. Preferring to keep things spontaneous when their actually just running from fear of the unknown.

12th: This couple manifest success together easily, people are intrigued by them. They give power couple vibes. Something is very alluring that brings alot of attention the magnetism has plutoian qualities. Others could think they'd like to have a relationship like this one. Thats from the outside though. Both people know how to keep private matters private. I think of public figures that want to uphold a certain image. These two idolize or romanticize each other, ignoring the obvious red flags. They can become very codependent on each other for emotional fulfillment. If their not on good terms it messes the whole day up. Breaking up to make up. Loving the passion that comes with it. Balancing work and the relationship may be something that has to be worked out. The arguments are very intense and passionate. There personalities start to merge into one, they start really sound, look and act alike. They give so selflessly to one another. They have dedication and patience to get through the challenging times. Their spirituality is developed through their love for one another. Experiencing things they haven't in any other relationship. Truly changed for the better. They understand each other like no one else ever has. They've both experienced something that was very specific and that bonded them. Its the 12th house so you know i have to mention addictions. Yes, this could be actual addiction to a substance but it can be an addiction over the career, belief system or relationship. An area in this persons life gets way more attention than the others. The belief system of these two can be different or started different.

Songs: i put a spell on you- Alice smith, haunted- Beyonce, sycamore tree- Kali uchis, boomerang- Yebba, something about us- Daft punk

[hiraiologist]

i don't know why i like you (but i do)

minatozaki sana x f!reader

8.7k words

synopsis: maybe there’s a reason they tell you not to mix business with pleasure. but with a coworker like minatozaki sana, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

tags/warnings: set very loosely in tdoong ent universe/office setting, smut (cunnilingus, fingering, begging, restraints), fluff, super super mild angst like its so brief it barely counts as angst, miscommunication, not actually unrequited feelings, lowkey switch!sana, coworkers with benefits to friends with benefits to lovers

a/n: i’ve been rewatching TTT quite a bit and tdoong ent office worker sana is too cute. i combined her character here with sha rich bc i'm a sucker for her ngl like okayyy shes serving high femme realness….. anyway this is not my best & i lowkey hate it SAWRY but i just wanted write Anything to get myself back into the groove again :p i'm trying to find motivation to finish some other works too!! next up is gonna be either a short halloween thing for momo (if i finish it in time) orrr what ive been working on for tzuyu ^-^  title from i don’t know why i like you but i do by the wombats.

you don’t know your newest coworker, minatozaki sana—not really. but there are a few things about her that you’ve started to learn.

for one, she is one of the loudest people in the entire office. it doesn’t bother you—after all, your close circle of friends includes plenty of other loud people from the office, like nayeon and jihyo and momo—and it normally wouldn’t even cross your radar. and yet, every time you hear sana’s high pitched giggle from across the room, you can’t help but lift your head from behind your computer. 

another thing you’ve learned is that she is, to put it plainly, a brat. the second she showed up at the office bragging about how her father owns the company, always reminding you that it’s her family name controlling your future, you knew this about her. she’s spoiled, privileged, pretentious, condescending, lazy, richer than anyone should be allowed to be—

nearly a month after sana’s first day, you’d grumpily proclaimed to some of your coworkers that sana was the most irritating person you’d ever met in your life.

chaeyoung told you that you were being unreasonable and you should just talk to sana. tzuyu told you that you were being insufferable and you needed to get laid.

naturally, you’d decided to kill two birds with one stone.

two months after sana joined the company—her father’s company, as she always reminds everyone—you found yourself in her massive apartment, her pink lips hot and wet against your throat as her hands fumbled with your top. “this is pretty,” she’d said when she greeted you at the door, fingers playing with the fabric.

not ten minutes later, that same top was thrown carelessly on her bedroom floor, followed immediately by sana’s prada skirt.

which brings you to now, in sana’s enormous bedroom, where there is a third thing you’ve learned about minatozaki sana: she’s the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

maybe you already knew that.

but you don’t have time to think about anything beyond that before plush lips brush against your collarbone, and you let your mind go blank as her mouth moves down, down, down—

maybe minatozaki sana has learned a few things about you, too.

the two of you make a habit of late-night meetings at her apartment.

it’s nice. the sex is incredible—mind-blowing, actually, you must admit—and you learn a fourth thing about sana, which is that she’s actually not nearly as annoying as you once believed. at the office, sana’s rambling has become less migraine-inducing commotion and more mildly tolerable background noise. you almost listen for it now, actually, just to know she’s around—not that you’d let any of your coworkers know.

because when your whole arrangement starts, you ask sana if she could keep things on the low, giving a sheepish explanation about not wanting your nosy coworkers to ask questions. you tell her you want this to be a no-strings-attached situation, just casual sex between two people who happen to be coworkers, and you don’t want anyone else knowing about it. sana agrees easily, giggling about how quickly it had gotten around the office that one of the interns had a crush on your department manager mina, and, to your relief, you figure that’s probably the end of that discussion.

you take it a little too seriously, maybe. truthfully, you sort of ignore her. at work, you both operate directly under dahyun, though you work with everyone on coordinated projects—“work” being a loose term; sana never does anything she’s supposed to do, mostly spending her days just chatting with whoever’s willing to engage in a conversation or be distracted for more than two minutes (typically momo—though chaeyoung, nayeon, and jeongyeon are common targets too) or watching an absurd amount of youtube videos whenever she’s meant to be doing something useful. regardless, you act like there’s nothing between the two of you; you don’t acknowledge her unless it’s absolutely necessary and only exchange words about work-related topics. everyone else constantly talks to her or invites her to hang out, but you attempt to keep your contact to a minimum. whenever you join the girls for a drink after work, if sana shows up, you find an excuse to leave as quickly as you can. if sana’s already in the cafeteria, you find a place at another table on the other side of the room (even if you’d really wanted to sit where momo and chaeyoung are chatting animatedly across from sana). you try as hard as possible to ensure that there’s minimal interaction between the two of you when you’re in public.

but sometimes, sana stares at you a bit too long when she’s standing by the printer, or she greets you a little too comfortably when she bumbles towards her desk in the morning. you don’t necessarily say anything to discourage her, but you think about it—especially when momo smirks knowingly at you as you watch sana bend over to pick up a stack of papers she’d clumsily dropped—when nayeon glances meaningfully at you for half a second as sana starts to whine and complain at lunch about being single and bored—when jihyo approaches you on your birthday and gifts you two tickets to a concert for an artist you’d shown to sana (while wrapped around each other under her sheets) but never mentioned to anyone else before.

whenever they ask, you say to your coworkers that you barely know sana. it’s sort of a lie, but sort of a truth, too.

“maybe you’d know her more if you weren’t always avoiding her,” jeongyeon says one night while you’re grabbing some drinks from the bar together. “i think you’re being dramatic. sana is perfectly sweet, really. i don’t know why you run away every time she looks at you.”

you shake your head. “i’m not avoiding her. but i don’t have to be friends with everyone in the office.”

“well, i think she wants to be friends with you,” jeongyeon responds casually. “just talk to her. i have a feeling you two would get along really well.”

“you know, you should try minding your own business.” you ignore jeongyeon’s eye roll. “whatever. if she wants to be friends with me, maybe she should be more obvious about it.”

if you think too long about being friends with sana—or just about sana—your heart starts to beat a little faster in your chest.

you don’t know minatozaki sana, not really. but you can’t help but think you’d really like to.

about a month after your first night together, sana starts sending you random photos and videos—cute animals, most of the time, or just simple things—usually followed by a short message. this reminded me of you! hehe, she types. you typically respond with emojis—the smiley with the halo usually, or a butterfly sometimes—always non-committal and vague, just enough to let her know you’ve seen her messages. sometimes you send a couple words—so cute!! you say. your texts aren’t long or particularly engaging—still, the frequency of her messages never decreases. there’s a fifth thing you learn about sana: she’s addicted to texting. you don’t know if you prefer that or not.

it’s at this point that you stop putting in so much effort to avoid her. if she happens to sit next to you at lunch, you don’t look at her, but you don’t get up and leave anymore either. whenever she greets you in the morning, instead of responding with silence, you give her a small nod. you let her sit with you any time you meet the girls for drinks, staying the entire time without giving an excuse to go home.

when dahyun asks if you’re friends with sana now, you shrug. “i don’t know. not really? still just coworkers.”

the words feel wrong, taste acrid in your mouth. but they’re also half true, because you’re not friends—not really.

after all, you barely know five things about her.

sometimes, when you have sex with sana, it’s a game. sana says or red light green light, maybe. tonight is one of those nights—lie down, sana says, so you comply. no touching, sana says, so you nod. you’re lying on the bed, wrists and ankles restrained, gaze following sana as she struts towards you, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. the cool air of the room has you shivering lightly, although it might just be from the hungry look sana’s sending you, lips curled into a proud smirk as she watches you tug a little at your cuffs. she’s spent the last hour teasing you, touching you everywhere except where you hopelessly crave, working you up until you’re dizzy with lust.

“please, sana,” you whine softly. “i need you.” you watch as she crawls towards you on the bed, stops at your chest.

and here’s one more thing you’ve come to learn about sana—sana likes it like this: when she’s in complete and total control, with you begging for her permission for everything. she delights in the way your voice cracks and breaks, too consumed with desire to be embarrassed at your desperation soaking the bed sheets.

“need me how?” she tilts her head teasingly, glancing at your glistening slit and grinning. “use your words.”

“need your fingers,” you whimper. “need you inside me, please.” you yank at the cuffs around your wrists again, impatient. sana hums and leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue moving against your own.

“cute. ask properly,” sana murmurs against your lips, “and maybe i’ll give you what you want.” her mouth moves down to your collarbone and you can feel yourself dripping onto the sheets as she sucks a hickey there.

shuddering, you manage to croak out, “will you please fuck me with your fingers? please, i need you so bad, sana.” she lets out a satisfied chuckle and brushes her lips against yours again, nipping at your bottom lip. a second later, she runs two fingers along your entrance, gathering your wetness before pushing one finger inside. you moan in delight as she begins to pump in and out. “will you add another, please sana?”

“my good girl,” she purrs, “asking so politely.” she crooks another finger inside you and starts to fuck you deeper, faster. you moan louder, gasp and whine when she curls her fingers into your g-spot, struggle against your cuffs as pleasure spreads throughout your body. sana snickers smugly, lowers her head to your chest, wraps her lips around your sensitive nipple. her teeth graze lightly against the peak. “does it feel good, baby?” she uses her thumb to rub at your clit—she’d teased too much, and now you’re positively overwhelmed with desire at every touch.

you try to answer, you do—your mouth opens, but all that slips out are more moans. sana doesn’t berate you this time, just giggles and continues to draw you closer and closer to the edge, fingers moving deep inside you, eventually moving to tease her tongue against your other nipple.

it’s not long before you’re tearfully confessing, “sana, fuck, i’m so close. please, i’m gonna cum.” she circles your clit more intensely then, and you gasp. “sana!” she nips playfully at your breast before letting go and looking down at you.

“what do you say, baby?” her dark eyes bore into your own and you whimper knowingly.

“can i cum, please?” you beg, breath catching in your throat as you watch sana bite her lip, fingers still pumping inside you. you have only moments before you might just explode. tonight she has mercy on you, gives you what you want without a fight.

“cum for me.”

at her soft command, you cum instantly on her fingers, sana moaning at the feeling and fucking you through your orgasm. “oh, fuck, i—fuck, sana,” you cry out, twitching, pulling at your restraints, tears leaking from your eyes as you finally come down from your high and settle into the bed with an exhale. sana slips her fingers out, kisses you tenderly.

there’s a brief moment where both of you just lie there, breathing heavily. you close your eyes, feel her press a kiss against your jaw, hum at the gesture. then she’s moving once more, spreading your legs, kissing along your thighs, biting playfully at the soft flesh there before you feel her warm tongue licking into your slit, lips wrapping around your clit and—

sana uses her tongue to lick up all your cum, looks up at you with lust-filled eyes. she sucks at your bud, fucks into you with her tongue. “sana,” you moan wantonly. you’re still not really recovered from your first orgasm, but that doesn’t deter sana, and you don’t tell her to stop. she suddenly fills you with two fingers again and you whimper as she picks up the speed, mouth moving to your clit once more. the suction is incredible. “oh fuck, yes, sana, just like that.” you grind down against her mouth subconsciously.

she angles her fingers like she had before, presses into your g-spot, flicks her tongue against your clit. “you taste good,” she mumbles before taking your clit into her mouth again. you let out a low groan in response, unable to form words—all you can focus on is sana, her mouth and fingers bringing you closer to your peak with every thrust, every lick, every movement.

she lets you cum two more times that night before she’s undoing your restraints, her own juices sticky on your thigh, then using a damp towel to clean you, offering you water and sweet kisses as she checks in on you.

“as always, you were so good for me tonight,” sana praises you with a bright grin as you sip at your water, your eyes half closed. her fingers trail lightly over the hickeys she’d marked along your thighs, breasts, chest. so maybe that’s another thing you’ve learned about sana—she has somewhat of a possessive streak. “so perfect.”

hours later, as sana sleeps next to you, you watch her chest rising and falling evenly, peacefully, before you collect your things and glance at her one last time, slipping out of her apartment with your stomach filled with butterflies.

it’s going on three months since you’d first slept with sana—and something shifts.

she starts messaging you things that both makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip—things like this is so us underneath a video of two dogs cuddling—a picture of her having a small picnic by the river followed by the words wish you were here.

half the time she doesn’t even add pictures or videos to her messages anymore—i miss you baby, she sends. or just good morning! with some variant of heart emojis. sometimes you get something a little more lengthy—watching the drama you mentioned the other day. have you seen the latest episode? maybe we can watch it together!

you think this means you’re probably actually friends now. the thought makes you grin.

eventually, sana begins leaving little gifts at your desk: your favorite iced coffee, packets of gummies, even a delicate—and expensive—necklace.

you hide the necklace underneath your shirt when mina pulls you aside to gently remind you about the company policy for disclosing personal relationships between employees. you insist you have nothing to say and look away with red cheeks when mina’s eyes drift towards sana’s desk.

it burns against your chest when you wear it, but you can’t bring yourself to take it off, either.

a month passes by, sana’s present never leaving your neck. you meet chaeyoung for coffee one morning over the weekend.

“i’ve been meaning to tell you, but i like your necklace,” she remarks, her thin fingers gesturing towards said piece of jewelry. “it’s really pretty. where’d you get it?”

you fight off a blush. “thanks. uh, someone gave it to me as a gift.”

“someone?” chaeyoung looks at you and notices the pink dusting your cheeks, her eyebrows shooting up. “hold on. you mean like a special someone?” she looks at your necklace then at you again, curious.

“well…” you look away awkwardly for a moment. “i don't know.”

“you've worn it every day for a few weeks now,” she points out. “must be someone at least a little special for you to wear that so often, yeah?”

a small frown starts to form on your lips. “maybe i just really like the necklace.”

chaeyoung hums. “maybe. it does look like something you’d pick out yourself.” she glances appreciatively at it once more before a mischievous grin tugs at her mouth. “but i know you. you like the necklace, sure, but you like the fact that it came from”—she pauses like she’s about to say a name—“this person more.”

and, well. she might have a point.

you’ve learned a few more things about sana over the past few months—like that she tries really hard to do things for you before you even consider asking for them, says things that make you melt and smile softly, giggles at even your worst jokes and talks to you when you’re lonely or upset. it’s all very sweet. sana is sweet. truthfully, you do like knowing she spent time picking out a necklace she thought you might like. the mental image of sana browsing through multiple shops with a cute little pout on her face until she finds the perfect gift for you makes you want to grin like an idiot.

you like sana. a lot, you realize.

but you’re not sure where she stands, because you’ve seen her gift mina and momo things before too. maybe it doesn’t mean anything special to her. that’s something you haven’t learned about her. so you simply scoff and shove chaeyoung in the shoulder, hiding your scowl in your cup of coffee, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at the thought of sana, sana, sana.

sana’s wearing that same cute little prada skirt today, the one she wore the day you’d first slept together. there’s one more thing you’d learned about sana: the woman loves her prada. you watch her walk in, greeting everybody with a charming smile and enthusiastic wave.

sana has really nice legs—not that you needed a reminder.

for a few moments, you let yourself stare at her and think about her smooth skin, her breathy whines, her long legs spread open just for you, her soft thighs quivering as you lower your mouth—

“have you already started on that presentation for new concepts for the upcoming quarter?”

dahyun’s voice breaks you from your reverie. you manage to drag your eyes away from sana and look up at dahyun. she seems tired, looking at her computer with her brows furrowed as she taps at her keyboard. you blink.

“uh—no, not yet. i was going to start on it later, though.”

she nods, still staring intently at her screen. “work on it with sana,” she requests. you open your mouth to respond, but she speaks again before you can say anything. “it’ll be better to have both of you coming up with ideas. i know you haven’t really worked with her before, but she’s not a bad worker, really. she usually has quite a few good ideas if you can get her to focus for long enough. but right now she needs something to do, and i can’t get her to work for more than ten minutes. maybe you’ll have better luck getting somewhere with sana.” she exhales loudly then and finally glances at you with pleading eyes, looking worn out despite the day just starting.

you sigh. “okay. i’ll see if there’s a conference room available to book today and grab sana.”

two hours later, you drag sana into one of the smaller conference rooms in the hallway next to your desks so you can speak a little louder with her, hoping to brainstorm together.

you’re wildly unsuccessful, of course.

sana spends the first thirty minutes of your two reserved hours playing papa's freezeria on her laptop while you try to work on your own. eventually, you can’t take it anymore. you look up from your laptop and clear your throat. sana glances at you.

“what are you doing?”

sana angles her laptop towards you a little so you can clearly see her sundae platter on the screen. it’s overflowing with toppings. her customer frowns, gives her zero stars and no tip. sana whines and turns the laptop back towards her, pouting a little before shooting a bright grin at you. “mina showed me this game,” she chirps. “have you played it before? it’s actually pretty fun.” she clicks a few more times, taking a new customer’s order. immediately, she begins creating another ice cream monstrosity. you just blink at her.

“seriously, do you ever do anything productive around here?” you try to sound serious, but you can hear the fondness in your voice, a small smile forming on your face.

“nope,” sana responds cheerily, looking up from her game. “well, i talk to momo. that seems pretty productive to me.”

you roll your eyes good-naturedly at her serious expression. “sana, that’s not productive. that’s distracting.” you tap her lightly on the wrist. “come on, we need to finish this.” you get up from your chair and make your way to the whiteboard on the wall, getting ready to note the major ideas you’d already thought of on your own.

she smiles brightly at you and closes out of her game. “okay, whatever you need.”

twenty more minutes go by, and you’re actually starting to get somewhere. just as dahyun had mentioned, sana’s a good worker when she puts her mind to it, creative and thoughtful. that was something pleasant to learn about her. she’d even gotten up to write a few notes of her own on the board. you’re in the middle of jotting down a few more details on the whiteboard when sana sets a hand on your shoulder, leans in a little closer next to you to peer at your handwriting and you can smell her perfume. you inhale a little, squeeze your eyes shut, try to retain your focus. it doesn't work.

“you smell good.” you don’t even really register your voice relaying the words to sana until you open your eyes and find that she’s looking at you, honey dripping from her eyes. instantly, you blush.

“cute,” sana whispers, gaze dropping to your mouth. she leans in then, brings your lips together in a slow kiss. you drop the whiteboard marker and your hands instantly fall to her waist while she curls one hand around your jaw, the other playing with your necklace and resting lightly against your chest.

kissing sana is familiar, easy, but it’s the first time you’re kissing her like this: in public, outside of the comfort of her apartment, where, theoretically, anyone could see you. the thought makes your heart race rapidly. maybe you should be more concerned about the fact that you’re kissing sana not even ten feet away from your coworkers, barely concealed by the translucent door of the conference room, but the swipe of her tongue against your lips pushes every thought out of your head. you grip her waist tighter, trying to fight back a whine and failing. 

she makes a sweet sound against your lips in return. “sana,” you say hoarsely, pulling back just enough to take a breath, resting your forehead against hers. she just hums. “we—we need to finish this.”

“okay,” she replies easily, drawing back and giving you an innocent smile. your eyes drop to her lips. she smirks.

“okay,” you repeat, unable to look away from her mouth. she bites her lip. you stare.

“i thought you said we need to finish this?” she cocks her head, blinks at you. but she’s leaning in again, her breath fanning against your lips.

“uh huh,” you say dumbly. “yeah. we should… finish this…” you close the gap, kiss her deeply, let out a quiet gasp when she sticks a hand up your shirt and rests it against your stomach, stroking your skin. your back hits the wall, and it’s only then that you realize sana had been gently pushing you backwards. “sana…”

sana presses you into the wall, licks into your mouth. your thoughts become hazy as she kisses you languidly. the hand she has under your shirt brushes against your bra and you shiver. her other hand rests on your waist, warm and firm. you whimper into her mouth and she pulls away, giggling. “you’re too cute,” she whispers against your lips. she drops her hand from your bra so she’s grabbing at both sides of your waist, then pushes you against the wall once more as she leans in to kiss you again. all too soon, she pulls away again, shooting you a playful smile as she sits back down in front of her laptop. you stare at her, breath catching in your throat. “back to work!” she says with a teasing wink.

you ignore her triumphant grin when you impatiently drag her out of her chair and lay her on top of the conference table, not caring that anyone could walk in on you at any moment.

the soft adoring look sana gives you when you help her pull her skirt back on is worth the embarrassment you feel when dahyun winks at you later and tells you she knew you’d get somewhere with sana.

you’re at the office one morning, on your way to the bathroom, when you overhear it.

“you’re so good at this,” a muffled voice groans out behind the corner of the hallway.

“mmm.” another voice. this one is familiar to you—extremely so. “does it feel good?”

it’s sana.

“yes, feels so good,” the other voice whimpers. they gasp and moan. you hear sana giggle.

you briskly turn back around.

well.

it seems like you aren’t sana’s only plaything.

(that’s something you didn’t really want to learn about sana.)

six months.

half a year since the first time you’d let sana’s hands roam all over your body, let her bring you to the edge again and again and again.

you finally stop sneaking out of her apartment, instead starting your days with her arm thrown over your waist, legs tangled in her overpriced sheets. you also find yourself spending entire weekends at her place. you’d taken to going over to her place every friday night and staying until sunday. sometimes you even spend most of the week there, making sure to go to work in separate vehicles. it’s a little more domestic than you’d imagined things would be when this had all started, but you like it—maybe a little more than you should.

it’s dangerous for your heart.

as it turns out, sana’s an awful chef; on one occasion, she starts a small fire in her kitchen attempting to make your favorite breakfast. to ensure you don’t starve, you put yourself in charge of all cooking related activities, lightly swatting at her whenever she hovers around you in the kitchen. but you always give in when she slips her arms around you from behind, rests her chin on your shoulder, croons appreciatively in your ear when you feed her small bites here and there.

she’s annoying.

she’s lovely.

it’s terrifying, because you know you’re falling for sana. you know her now, and you like everything you’ve gotten to know. but what you don’t know is how sana feels. you know you’re friends by now. but sana hasn’t said anything and, based on what you’d heard that one day at the office, clearly she’s not exclusive with you, so you begrudgingly admit to yourself that she doesn’t think it’s become anything deeper than that. it hurts, and you’re sort of embarrassed. of course you’d fall for someone who only sees you as a friend.

it’s this fact that prompts you to shut down sana’s request to tell even just one person about your private time together. she insists that momo can keep a secret, but you give her a firm refusal, almost bordering on hostile. you can tell she’s disappointed, maybe even a little surprised at your aggression, but she quickly presses a kiss to your lips and assures you she’s still okay with keeping things secret. you think maybe you overreacted—it was just one question, after all.

“i’m sorry, sana,” you murmur as you pull her closer. “i just really don't want to risk everyone being all up in our business, you know?” it’s more like you don't want to give anyone a reason to analyze your unrequited feelings for sana, but what sana doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“i understand,” she mumbles into your ear. “i suppose the girls are sort of gossipy, huh?” you’re grateful for the olive branch, and you accept it quickly.

“more than just sort of. i’ve learned more about nayeon’s favorite sex positions than i’ve ever wanted to know,” you joke with a grimace, and sana giggles and hits your shoulder lightly.

later that night, you try not to pay attention to the churning in your stomach when you think about your gossipy friends dissecting how you’d fallen for the company’s daughter all while she’d been making some other girl moan just ten feet away from your desk.

you wouldn’t be able to handle the humiliation of everyone knowing you’d been dumb enough to break your own boundaries and fall for your fuck buddy, only for her to not feel the same.

sana shifts in her sleep, cuddles closer into you.

it’s enough for now. it has to be.

the next weekend, you find yourself getting lunch with tzuyu. you’re sipping at your water when your phone lights up with a text.

it’s sana. can we have tteokbokki for dinner tonight? i’ve been craving it all day!! i’ll even be your sous chef!!!

you grin as you type back a response. sure. but as my sous chef, you should know that if you blow anything up, you’re fired immediately…

you go back to eating when tzuyu speaks. “who are you texting?”

“huh?” you look up at her. “oh, nobody.”

her eyebrows go up. “you’re an awful liar, you know.” she shrugs, watching you blush. “but whatever. keep your secrets. something tells me i might already know the answer anyway.”

you can’t tell if the feeling spreading through your veins is nausea or relief.

the following monday, sana sits next to you at lunch, and when her hand brushes against your wrist, your breath catches in your throat. you act like you don’t see the smug, pleased look she sends you. she stares at you with a grin—something bright sparks in your chest.

you fiddle with your necklace and try not to think about sana, but you find it’s next to impossible when every other thing reminds you of the woman.

you let your pinky rest against her hand for the rest of lunch. a confession. momo has the decency to pretend she doesn’t notice.

on tuesday, you walk into the office with a cheerful smile on your face. you log onto your computer, work on a few assignments, collaborate with nayeon and jeongyeon on a presentation for the upcoming quarterly report.

during lunch, you sit with tzuyu and chaeyoung and pretend like you aren’t staring at sana across the room—like you aren’t watching how momo’s leg brushes against sana’s, pinky fingers innocently laid across each other atop the table—like you aren’t following how jihyo’s hand reaches across the table to gently fix sana’s hair, tucking it behind her ear neatly—like you aren’t wondering what it might be like to really touch sana in public, to interact with her so easily, to love her freely, loudly.

later, when you’re reporting to mina that you’ve finished your department’s presentation, you try not to stare beyond her shoulder at dahyun and sana giggling together over some sort of inside joke of theirs. you barely manage to push the giddiness down enough to keep your focus on mina, and you falter when sana catches your eye from across the room, her playful grin momentarily turning sultry when she notices your heavy gaze. you pretend it doesn’t affect you and give mina a half-hearted apology before you continue to review the contents of your presentation, sana and dahyun disappearing around the corner as mina nods approvingly at your words.

a few hours later, you’re making your way over to a meeting to discuss the upcoming quarterly budget when you hear it again.

“oh sana,” you hear a breathy voice groan out.

sana and… whoever else she’s hooking up with who isn’t you. they’re in one of the conference rooms. you avoid looking at the door.

“is this good? or do you want it harder?”

“this is perfect.”

sana hums. “that’s what i like to hear.”

you rush towards your meeting, holding back tears as you speed away.

later that night, as you watch sana wash the dishes after dinner, you feel your heart breaking but you know what you need to do. “hey sana?”

she puts the last dish away and turns to you with a little grin. “yeah? what’s up?”

“i think maybe…” you look at sana. “maybe we should… stop.”

“stop?” sana starts to frown.

“you know… stop. this.” you gesture between the two of you half-heartedly. “us.”

sana just stares at you, standing stiffly in the middle of the kitchen. her lip wobbles. “but… why?”

you try to keep a neutral expression. “i just think it’s for the best.”

she’s silent for a long moment. then she looks up at you, eyes hardened. “okay. then i think you should go.”

“oh. uh, okay.” you gather your things as she stares at you harshly. you make your way to the door, then look back at sana. “wait. we’re still okay, right?”

sana just looks at you. she scoffs and turns back around, heading to her room. you try to take a step to follow her, but she puts her hand out. “leave. please.”

so you do.

you text her a few hours later. are we okay?

she doesn’t respond.

you do, however, receive a text from momo a few minutes later. it simply reads give her space.

it’s better than nothing.

(you still cry yourself to sleep that night, not knowing that on the other side of the city, momo simply holds sana in her arms as she does the same.)

the rest of the week goes by slowly. it’s awful. you’re not sleeping, not eating, not functioning.

during your lunch break on friday, tzuyu stares as you shovel rice into your mouth, unimpressed. you ignore her, but eventually her silence makes you shift uncomfortably. you glance around the room, looking for sana. you find her at a table across the room with jihyo and momo. you stare at her as subtly as you can.

by the brokenhearted expression on sana’s face and the uncomfortable frown jihyo gives you—not to mention the way momo is openly making eye contact with you—you’re sure it wasn’t subtle at all.

you look away and catch tzuyu’s eye. “what?”

she blinks at you, shrugging almost imperceptibly. “is there something going on with you?”

you freeze before scooping up another bite of rice. “no.” you try to sound unaffected. “why?”

tzuyu hums. “no reason. it’s just that both you and sana have seemed a little… strange the past few days. i thought something might have happened between you two.”

“and why would you think anything’s happening between sana and me?” it comes out a little less convincing than you’d intended. tzuyu’s brows furrow slightly and she leans back into her seat.

“well… you’re…” tzuyu pauses, clears her throat as she eyes you carefully. “you’re… friends, right?” you don’t answer and tzuyu stares at you again. “come on. i’m not blind. you clearly have something going on with her. why won’t you tell me?”

there’s a flash of movement in front of you and momo suddenly plops down into the seat next to tzuyu. “what are you two talking about?” she takes out her food, immediately biting into her lunch.

“nothing,” you grumble.

“we’re talking about how someone here is in love with sana and is really awful at pretending like she’s not.”

“tzuyu!” you glare at her, then look down at your food, shy. “that’s not exactly what we were talking about.”

in between bites of her sandwich, momo hums. “oh, right.” momo’s next words make you frown. “i heard you guys broke up.” the expression on her face is anything but innocent. you glance over to where she’d been sitting before with sana. sana and jihyo are pointedly not looking in your direction. you look back at momo, who’s trying a little too hard to act nonchalant.

“are you spying on me for sana? also, we weren’t dating. i don’t—what did sana tell you?”

“uh, it’s not spying if i’m speaking to you in front of your face. but i did maybe tell sana i’d come over here and see what you were talking about. also, she didn’t have to tell me anything.” momo snickers, takes another bite. you stare at her as she chews. “you guys aren’t that great at hiding when you’re hooking up in the conference rooms. plus, i know the code to her place. you really shouldn’t leave your panties on the couch so often.” she grins crookedly. you squeak in embarrassment.

tzuyu grimaces. “didn’t need that mental image, thanks.”

momo finally realizes something. “hold on. you weren’t dating?” momo’s next words make you frown. “wait, but you know she thought this whole time that you were dating, though, right?”

you shake your head. “no, that can’t be right. the other week i heard her and someone else hooking up in the hallway. she was doing something right, because they just kept moaning and telling her it felt good. and i heard them again on tuesday in one of the conference rooms. sana was asking them if they wanted it harder, and…” you trail off.

tzuyu tilts her head. “uh, actually.” you look at her and she coughs a little. “i don’t think she was hooking up with anyone.”

“what do you mean?” you frown.

“one of the A&R interns just had surgery on their shoulder. sana’s been giving her massages to help with the pain every now and then.”

your heart stops. what?

momo nods. “oh yeah. sana’s pretty good at giving massages. did you seriously think she was hooking up with someone else? aren’t you, like, practically living at her place?”

you groan, drop your head to the table. guilt washes over you and you swallow roughly. “oh my god. i really fucked up. what should i do?” your voice comes out a whisper. “i… i’m in love with her.”

momo shrugs, shoves the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. she chews thoughtfully, swallows down her food, then takes a sip of her lemonade. “i know i told you to give her space, but as her best friend, i know for a fact that she misses you. i have a feeling that if you went to her place and explained why you did what you did, she’d probably be willing to hear you out.”

you exhale. “really? you don’t think she’d be mad if i just showed up?”

“nah. well, the other day she did mention wanting to stab you with a steak knife.”

“momo!”

she bursts out laughing. “i’m just kidding. she’ll want to have a mature conversation. she just needed time to think about things. i’m sure she won’t stab you and she’ll hear you out.”

“you’re not very helpful,” you grumble. momo grins at you.

“oh, one more thing. if you ever hurt sana again, she won’t need a steak knife, because i will kill you myself. you’d make an excellent stew, i think.”

“momo!”

you decide to follow momo’s advice, despite the slight worry of sana pulling a knife on you, and find yourself outside sana’s apartment on saturday morning.

deep breaths, you think. sana is a reasonable person. she won’t stab you. she’ll talk to you.

you ring the bell.

a few moments pass.

“what are you doing here?” sana’s voice comes through the speaker. you glance at the doorbell camera.

“i wanted to talk,” you say slowly, “and apologize. and clear some things up. if you’ll let me.”

silence.

then sana’s buzzing you in, and you nearly shed a tear at the sight of sana opening her door for you, wearing one of your worn-out t-shirts and her too-short sleep shorts.

“okay.” she sighs. “come in.”

you give her a soft smile and step inside. she closes the door behind you and turns to face you.

“hi,” you say dumbly, playing with your fingers nervously.

sana cracks a small grin. “hi,” she replies. “want some coffee?”

you can’t help but brighten and smile wider at her. “i’d love some, thanks.”

sana walks towards the kitchen and you follow her. you stand behind her as she pours coffee into your favorite mug. her fingers brush against yours when she hands it to you and you inhale sharply. you look at her and her cheeks redden slightly. “let’s sit down, yeah?” you nod at her words and make your way to her living room, sitting gently on her couch and sipping at your coffee before setting it on the small table in front of you.

“thank you,” you begin, “for letting me in and for hearing me out. i know you could tell me to go away and i’d have no right to complain. so thank you again. but i really want to make things right between us and explain myself.”

sana nods. “okay.”

“i guess i should start with saying i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean to hurt you. to be honest, i didn’t think me ending things would even matter to you.”

“oh.” sana frowns. “why wouldn’t it?”

“i…” you sigh. “i honestly thought you didn’t see me as anything more than a friend. like, a fuck buddy. but i was okay with that because i thought maybe… if we spent more time together… anyway. yeah. but then a couple months ago, i heard what i thought was you and someone else hooking up at work. and that hurt so much—to think i wasn’t the only one getting to spend that kind of time with you, you know? and then i heard the same thing again a few days ago on tuesday, and that was just. you know. all i could take. so… i thought it would be better for my heart to make a clean break.”

sana’s quiet. then she looks at you in confusion and says, “okay, sorry, but—what? i haven’t been hooking up with anyone else since, you know, our first time.”

you blush. “i know. or, well, momo and tzuyu told me literally just yesterday that i’d grossly misheard things. they told me you were just giving an intern a massage for their shoulder surgery recovery. but yeah. i’d already ended things with you when i found out that i was mistaken. so. here i am.”

“i…” sana blinks. “okay. so… you ended things with me because you don’t want me to hook up with anybody else. well, i’m not. so… is that all?”

“actually, there’s something else i need to tell you.”

sana slowly nods, her eyes shining with something you recognize as hope. you take a deep breath.

“i like you—i love you. i'm so in love with you, sana, and i've been falling for you for months and i just—you're all i think about. when i'm with you, i'm the happiest i've ever been, and when i'm not with you, i'm just thinking about the next time i can be with you. it's like… it’s like my life is just measured in moments of with sana and waiting to be with sana. and i’m terrified. because i—i thought you were hooking up with someone else, that you didn’t like me the way i like you. or, well. the way i love you.”

sana lets out a breath, leans forward into your space. you blink and before you can register what's happening, she’s kissing you.

the kiss is—different. it's wet, for one, because someone’s crying. in the back of your mind, you register it's probably you. but this kiss is also all-consuming, like sana’s been holding back every time you’d kissed before this, like this is the first time she’s really kissing you the way she’s always wanted. this kiss is full of love, you realize. sana pulls back slightly and you subconsciously chase her lips, blushing and looking down when she lets out a laugh. she gently leans back in and rests her forehead against yours.

“you’re an idiot,” sana breathes out against your lips. you can feel her smile.

“i am?” you pull back to look at her. she just smiles at you and brings you in for another kiss before sighing.

“you’re so stupid,” sana murmurs, pressing a small kiss against your lips once more. “i…” she trails off.

“you…?” it’s hard to form words with her lips gently brushing against your own. she pulls back again and takes a deep breath.

“i’ve been in love with you,” she says quietly, “ever since you agreed to come over to my place for the first time.”

“wow, okay, i am an idiot,” you whisper. sana just nods, lips twitching playfully into a smirk.

“it’s okay though.” she sighs, leans back in to give you another soft kiss. “because i love you, and you love me.”

when you walk into the office on monday morning, it’s with sana’s hand in your own and matching smiles on your faces. you can see all of your friends gawking at the sight.

mina spots you as you round the corner and purses her lips slightly when her eyes land on your fingers tangled with sana’s. “good morning, you two. anything you’d like to tell me?” she fights back a smile at your bashful expression.

sana wrinkles her nose. “mina, i’m pretty sure you sort of work for me. do i really need to tell you that my girlfriend’s your employee?”

mina’s grin only widens when seven voices start yelling excitedly from around the office.

you roll your eyes as sana giggles. your friends are stupid.

you’ve never been happier.

sometimes, when you have sex with sana, it’s a sanctuary. long-awaited touches and whispered praises. tonight is one of those nights—you’re so beautiful, she says, so you kiss her neck. i missed you, she says, so you lay her down on the bed. you’re settled between her legs, one hand in her own warm grasp while your other hand caresses her skin where you’re pushing her leg up. you kiss along her thighs before you press a kiss against her wetness and hum as she shivers lightly. you squeeze her hand then lick against her slit once, slightly tangy slick coating your tongue instantly. she lets out a breathy moan as you lick again, tongue brushing against her clit. you’ve learned that sana likes it like this, too: when she surrenders to you, lays herself bare for you to adore, attentive and loving and intimate.

you wrap your lips around her bud and suck. she clenches your hand so hard it turns white. you dip your tongue between her folds, lick and suck and lose yourself in her heat.

“fuck,” sana sighs. “just like that, baby. you’re so perfect.” distractedly, you think about how sexy she truly is. skin slightly sweaty, girlish moans and whines slipping past her lips every few moments, body heaving with uncontrolled gasps and breaths every time your tongue swirls around her sensitive clit. you moan into her cunt and feel how she squirms and shivers.

you push her leg up more, hook it around your shoulder to make her more comfortable. as you dip your tongue inside her, you feel her use one hand to reach down and grasp at your hair. she tugs a little and you smirk, knowing she’s enjoying herself.

her slick is all over your mouth and chin. it’s intoxicating, being surrounded by sana’s presence, being covered in it. you pull your mouth away momentarily and use your hand not currently being squeezed by sana’s to lightly drag down along her skin before running it between her folds, teasing her. “shit, sana, you taste so good.” then you kiss her clit, ease two fingers into her, marvel at how easily they slip into her wetness. “oh baby,” you simper. “you must’ve wanted this so badly, hm?”

you bring your mouth back to her pussy, savoring her taste. sana lets out a strangled noise as you find the right angle inside her, curl your fingers slightly, lick against her mound. you bring her clit into your mouth again and suck the way you know she likes. you keep fucking her with your fingers as you eat her out enthusiastically, never wanting to stop.

after a while, sana starts twitching around you. her breathing gets even heavier as she gasps and grinds down onto your tongue. she opens her mouth to say something, but instead she releases a long, drawn-out groan. pleased, you suck a little harder at her clit knowingly, wait for her to speak.

“i’m gonna—fuck,” she gasps. “fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.” her voice is deeper than usual, thick with desire. it sends a thrill down your spine. you hum, don’t stop what you’re doing, finger her a little deeper and keep licking at her.

a few moments later, sana’s letting out a cry and cumming hard on your fingers and tongue. you continue to pump your fingers in and out, slowing down a little, swallowing her juices and lapping at her clit until she’s gently laying a hand on your collarbone. you pull away and take your fingers out and stare up at her, pupils completely blown.

she’s no different—her eyes are unfocused, totally black. she pants and bites her lip as she watches you take the fingers that were inside her into your mouth and suck her release off them. you grin at her. “i love the way you taste,” you say casually. “and i love making you cum. you look so pretty when you do, you know?

sana blushes all the way down to her chest. “yeah?”

“well, actually, i don't know,” you say, tapping at your chin. “i might need to see it again, just to make sure.”

she squeals and giggles when you kiss her, sighs adoringly when you bring a hand down between her legs again.

you spend hours after that watching her body and expressions when she cums—on your tongue, your fingers, your thigh, your stomach—and each time, she looks impossibly prettier than the last.

after you both become too exhausted to keep going, you clean up, get ready for bed together, showering and going through your nightly routine. it’s soothing, and you finally flop into her bed and start to drift off. sana’s still in the bathroom. everything starts to fade as you begin to succumb to your fatigue.

you don’t even register sana coming to bed, pulling the sheets over the both of you, turning off the lights. time passes; you’re not sure how much, but it must be a while, because you keep drifting and waking slightly, on the very edge of finally letting yourself fall asleep. sana seems to be in the same boat. her body has relaxed to the point that you know she’s about to pass out in the next ten seconds. you’re barely conscious, nearly fully asleep, also seconds from slipping into a deep slumber when—

“good night, baby. i love you,” sana whispers into your neck, so low you almost don’t hear her—but you do.

sana settles her arm around your torso, pulls you impossibly closer to her body before all her muscles slump and she enters a deep sleep.

your eyes start to close as her words replay softly in the back of your head.

i love you.

sana’s gentle murmur, soft lips pressing the syllables into your flesh. i love you.

when you finally fall asleep, you dream of warm skin and sweet lips, of lithe hands and wide eyes, of sana and love.

i love you, i love you, i love you.

of all the things you know about sana, this is your favorite.

[samonroegf]

good teachers create good students

when you, a virgin, have to have a sex scene with hayden christensen, he shows you what a good orgasm can truly feel like, in preparation for your scene together.

costar!hayden christensen x actor!virgin!f!reader, smut, fluff, age gap, dad kink, oral (f receiving), creampie, reader is 19/20ish, hayden is late 30s, dddne?

requested by anon! ᝰ masterlist

you sat nervously in your trailer, reading over the script multiple times. this would be your first time filming a sex scene, cold sweat crawled up your back. trying to keep yourself in a somewhat good mood, you shake your head trying to physically shake away the thoughts.

a knock on your trailer door pulls you out of your brain's endless cycle. walking the few steps to the door, your breath is almost taken from you. hayden christensen, your partner actor, stood mere inches from you.

you would never admit this even being tortured, but truth be told, he was one of the main reasons you choose this role. he was a phenomenal actor, and he was quite pretty to look at. your cheeks burn just thinking about it.

you smiled nicely at the older man, who wore an equal expression.

“hey! what's up?” a cheery expression, as you spoke. you bit your check, hoping it's not too noticeable. your mind was reeling just with having him in front of you. being a kid that grew up on television, you'd always been aware of hayden. he was like that dream man, that you never have a chance with.

“just wanted to come check on you, tomorrow's shooting will be a little grueling. you think you're up for it?” he chuckled, and the sound went straight to your stomach. you just step aside allowing the taller man to enter your small trailer.

he sat in a booth with you by the window, the sun shining like gold on his light hair. you'd hoped you looked equally enchanting.

“honestly,” you dragged out the word, mindlessly scratching your arm where no itch resided.

“i’ve never actually had sex, or like an orgasm so I'm not sure I'll be too good.” his aura just made you want to talk to him, you wanted to curse him for being so inviting. your cheeks warmed again, mentally chiding yourself for telling him this at all.

hayden’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he tried to get it under control. he couldn't understand how you'd never been touched, it's been hell trying to hold back and be professional. you shot him an embarrassed smile and looked out the window.

“i can help you,” he offered, but from the look on his face you were sure he didn't mean to actually say that. a nervous giggle slipped from your lips and now it was your eyebrows that were almost in your hairline.

“oh?” you weren't sure what to say, you weren't even totally sure that this wasn't some fever dream. you pinched your leg under the table just to check, it hurt, this is very real.

he leaned back into the seat, allowing his eyes to gaze over you. you were somewhere between hazy with lust, and feeling totally exposed.

“yeah, you're a cute little thing, helps you and helps me.” it was like he was being possesed by a man touch starved. maybe he was. there was a dark glimmer in his eyes, like a shark right under the water getting ready to attack..

it made you nervous and excited. you couldn't help but squirm under his watchful stare.

“oh, um, that would be great.” you couldn't keep eye contact with him, your gaze dropping down to your fidgeting hands. unsure of what to do next. you hoped you looked more composed then you felt.

you watched hayden as he moved, getting up to lock the door and close the blinds. he would be damned if someone was going to interrupt the two of you. he is thanking whatever god out there that this opportunity was brought to him.

he came back to you, just smiling somewhere between sweet and sinister. his hand comes to hold your cheek, he was so kind and yet you knew that probably wouldn't last long. another excitingly fearful wave passes through you.

you couldn't help but lean into his touch, humming contently. you guys had been here for months working on this film together. you'd become work buddies, always cracking up on set. now you knew there was no way that it would go back to that.

big eyes look up at him, and he has to look away to keep himself in control. there would be time for rough fucking later, he wants you to know how beautiful you are. can't let your first time go to waste.

“c’mere,” he leads you to the bed on the other side of the trailer. the bed was perfectly made, almost makes him want to laugh. you're such a good girl.

you were basically dumb in his presence, something that doesn't go by unnoticed. he loves how flustered he makes you, maybe he shouldn't but it boosts his ego.

you followed his lead to the bed, coming to sit right next to him. you're somewhere between fainting and vomitting, because you're here in bed with hayden christensen and you can't say anything.

“don’t be nervous, doll, I'll be so nice to you. but you gotta talk to me here. i have to have your consent.” he obviously knew you wanted this or you wouldn't have followed him like a lovesick puppy. verbal consent above all else, especially with you being so much younger than him.

“i want this, i actually don't think I've ever wanted anything more.” it sounded more like begging, than a statement. hayden's cock hardened against his pants, and he muttered, “fuck” under his breath. a playful smirk now played at his lips.

“using your words like a good girl,” his voice was so gentle and soft like a love confession, rather than dirty talk. a whine escaped your lips, you'd never been looked at like this, and especially not talked to like this. your body felt like it was on fire, and hayden is the only fire extinguisher for miles.

words aren't needed at this moment, he just helps you lay down. coming to lay beside you, his fingers drifting over your exposed midriff.

“i’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” his words are so soft and gentle, if you didn't know any better you'd think you were in a romance novel.

“please.” you're pleading and he hasn't even touched you yet, the way he's been looking at you makes you feel like there's a million exposed wires replacing your nerves.

“you're gonna be the death of me, baby.” he chuckles lowly and dark, his lips met yours, soft and hard all at once. his kisses are gentle, slowly coaxing open your lips to let his tongue explore your mouth. he groans into the kiss, and it makes you whimper.

your fingers clutch at him, pulling him closer if that were even possible. he can't help but smile into the kiss. you're so needy and innocent, he can't help but think about how sweet you must taste.

he seperates from you, allowing you to catch your breath. you're flushed, and the lust flowing theough you is almost unbearable.

“please, hayden, need.” you're so dumb with want, not a single coherent thought in your head.

“seems little girl needs to learn some patience.” he speaks into your neck, lightly biting and kissing on the skin.

“hayden,” you're whining, your thighs rubbing together on their own accord, trying anything to get some friction, something to alleviate the pain of need.

he kisses down your body, shedding of your outfit, one piece of clothing at a time. his lips enevlope around your nipples, little sighs falling from your lips like prayers. hayden wasn't sure he'd ever grow tired of the sounds.

he moved down, slowly pulling your bottoms down. almost like he was trying to torture you, or at least that's how it makes you feel. in reality, he's trying to savor every inch of creamy skin.

he finally comes face to face with your cunt. if you weren't so lost in his touch, you might've been nervous. however his hungry eyes make you feel wanted, beautiful.

“i just need one favor, baby,” his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afriad of your answer.

“anything, whatever you want, I'm yours.” you breathed out, a sultry tone in your words. you'd never heard yourself sound like that, it almost makes you wanna hide.

he tugs his lip betwen his teeth, just for a second before letting it go.

“call me daddy, okay? think you can do that for me?” you were quick to nod. you were probably going to do it anyway, but something about the way he asked made it so much hotter.

“words, baby.” his voice has a warning tone to it, and you almost wanted to push and see what he'd do. you weren't in a place to be able to do that right now.

“yes, daddy.” your voice shook a little as you spoke, the anxious energy seeping back into your bones.

“good girl,” he kissed your happy trail, all the way down until he was mere inches from your slit.

he licked up a stripe and you were about cry from sense of relief. his tongue slipping around your clit, his touch too much and not enough all at once. you were squirming under him, he tsked you. moving his arms under your thighs to hold you in place.

“let daddy take his time, angel, i promise you'll come soon enough.” his voice was low and you were sure you could come from that alone if he just kept talking.

“sorry,” you're wearing a sheepish smile, hiding your face in your arms. one of his hands coming to bring them down, holding both of your hands in his one.

“don’t hide, i wanna see you.” he's rubbing your knuckles comfortingly. it helps ease some of the tension, your body relaxing.

“there you are, now stay still as you can for me, yeah? and don't you dare hide those little noises from me.” you hum in accordance.

he pays more attention to your pussy now. his tongue dipping in and out of your core, wrapping his lips around your clit. eliciting whines and moans from your ‘o’ shaped lips.

he inserts a single finger, and the combination of his finger thrusting in and out of fo you and his lips attacking clit makes you come undone. shaking and crying as you come, he just looks at you with a smile.

“you look so beautiful,” his voice brings you out of the teance the orgasm sent you in. you give him a playful smile, completely in awe of the man before you.

“can you give me another one? need to fill you up, baby. can you take it?” can you take it? the words echo in your mind, almost like a challenge. you were determined to show him that you could and would take it.

“of course, i can,” you push up on your arms to actually look at him, it makes him smirk at your attitude.

it doesn't take him but a few moments to get undressed, and then he's stretching your walls with his fingers. preparing your hole for his girthy cock.

“daddy, hurry.” you pout, needing to fill him all the way. determination replaced by need.

“do you want it to hurt? cause i can stuff you full, but I don't want to hear any crying.” he's becoming a little impatient with her attitude, the soft, gentle man replaced by a wolf.

the way he spoke, and the look on his face makes you giggle, a giggle that's from the need to keep pushing those buttons.

his left eyebrow arched at your little outburst, “i want to be gentle with you for your first time, but you're making that really hard, doll.” curiosity piqued, you had to see what kind of roughness he'd give you.

“then let go,” you smiled oh-so innocently at him, and he couldn't take it anymore. an almost animalistic growl tears its way from this throat. with a few strokes of his cock, he was pushing into you.

the stretch was deliciously stinging, and you weren't sure if you liked it or not. but getting to see hayden above you, tongue poking out as he does his best to stay still. he's not a monster, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, unless that's what you want. tears streaming down your face. he tsks you again, “what did i say?” his hand comes to wipe away the tears and you lean into his touch once more.

“move, please move,” you're whining, squirming and wiggling. he thought he could get used to this sight, his little girl just needing to be split by his cock.

“what's the magic word?” his tone was playful and teasing, you almost want to bite it out of him.

you thought for a moment, what would probably get the most of a reaction out of him. so still pouting, and now batting your eyelashes at him, “daddy, i need you to ruin me.” your tone was genuine, you needed it and you needed it now.

what little bit of control hayden had left, has dissipated from those seven little words. he's grabbing your hips pulling them up to meet his. fingertips diggin harsh into your flesh, and he pistons in and out of you.

“fuck, doll, you're so tight. your cunt was basically made f’ my cock. taking me so well.” the pain has subsided, and all you can think about is the waves of pleasure being brought you by a man 10 years older than you.

“mm, daddy, so good, so full, love daddy’s cock, love it so much.” you're babbling, dumb and incoherent, unable to think about anything other than his member bullying your insides.

his hips are twitching and you can tell that he's getting close. you slip a hand down to your clit to rub little circles on the bud, but you're almost immediately stopped. one hand, now wrapped around your waist as he fucks into you. the other one holding your wrist, “let me do all the work, princess, just wanna make you feel good.”

his tone was indecipherable, but you nodded dumbly, letting him attack your clit. you can feel your muscles contracting, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“gonna come, daddy, gonna come, dad.” you're rambling again and it's making hayden feel sick in the best way possible.

“where you want it, baby?” he's always asking for permission, nose nuzzling into your neck taking in the scent of your sweat.

“inside, please, inside, please. want all of you, please.” he's smiling down at you again, not that you can see, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body begins to convulse.

“gonna fill you up so good, angel.” his hips stutter one last time, and you can feel his cum feeling up your cunt, it just makes you more sensitive.

you both fall to the bed, out of breath and hayden is laughing. if you weren't in such a daze, you'd ask him what was up.

“damn, doll, that's the best sex I've had in a while, you did so good.” he's laying on his side, leaned up. nimble fingers pushing your hair out of your face. mumbling little conpliments as you regain composure.

“well, i think it's safe to say, I'll know exactly what to do tomorrow.” you giggled and he agreed with a hum. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then nose, both cheeks and finallly your lips. soft and scattered kisses pepper across your skin and you giggle at him.

he gets up grabbing a bottle of water and some washrags to clean you up. easily manhandling you to wipe down your whole body from sweat, and gently collecting the cum that's cascading out of you. you wince from sensitively and he apologizes, pressing a kiss to your tummy.

he hands you the water and watches as you down the entire bottle, “i think I'd like to do this again sometime.”