#no one is more disappointed in me than me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yojeongin · 2 days ago

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It’s my desire to give myself to you | p.js

→childhood friend!jisung x f!reader

genre: smut, romance, 80s au, childhood friends au, lost communication, open ended

synopsis: being the youngest in all friend groups has always proven to be beneficial for jisung but he’s no longer that little boy you met years ago. so why won’t you look at him for what he truly is: a man. he’ll have to prove it to you then.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! obsessive and whiney jisung, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk jisung, vaginal fingering, implied age gap although it’s not significant, public indecency, unprotected sex, bratty jisung, praise kink, bulge kink, begging, creampie, virginity loss (virgin jisung), alcohol consumption, infantilization mentions, overbearing mother.

wc: 11.6k+ || soundtrack || ao3

an: happy end of the year fic, I’d consider this an accomplishment (writing 3 fics in one year lol)

Summers began to be the best thing for Jisung starting at the age of nine. He might have gone to summer camp reluctantly at first, not wanting to join his older brother. He had enough of seeing him all the time at school and home so why did his parents think it was fine to take away his precious summers of pretending to be an only child? It was a rough start, that’s for sure; but being taken under the wing of older kids served to be more fun.

Up until the age of sixteen he lived in bliss waiting for the day summer break to begin and be back where he felt free from the watchful eyes of his parents, only seeing them twice a month for visitations. As for his brother? He had his own life to run and the two barely bumped into each other which was a blessing in disguise for him. His bags were always packed weeks prior to the departing date and when his mother started to ask if he truly wanted to go –for she has been missing him terribly due to their increasing mommy-son dates– Jisung didn’t hesitate on turning her down. Summer camp is all he looked forward to, the only thing he put effort into school for.

Nowadays the only yearly highlight comes in Winter for the holidays in the form of season greetings cards. He’s learnt to conform. “You get what you get and you don’t complain.” Is what he told himself often and that’s all the fight he has left in him the faster the years pass by.

“No mail for me?” Jisung asks with that same pleading whine laced onto his voice upon entering his parent’s home. Leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek while she shuffles through the mail. She hums, elongating her words while flipping through the envelopes of bills and season greetings. Hoping her hesitance would cement the feeling of disappointment onto her son once more. “Well, it doesn't seem so… Oh! No. Here you go.” His mom utters with a slight smile, cruel as it is. “Took them longer to send this year. Thought the Y/l/n girl was going to fully desert you this year.” She quips balefully. Jisung gives her a quick glance before looking at the picture.

This is the most he sees and hears from you nowadays and it has become unsatisfactory. He wonders where things went wrong more often than he wants to. When he wakes up he thinks about it. When he brushes his teeth and showers he thinks about it. He’s burnt his hand thinking about why your letters minimize little by little every year and it so happens to be that this year he only received a happy birthday letter leaving him in the dark for the following ten months until today. If you can call it that, all the card says is: “May the beauty of the Holidays bless your home with happiness.” Signed off in golden glitter: The Y/l/n Family. No hand written note on your part, no acknowledgement at all. He’s sure your mother only sent it as his address hasn’t been erased from their address book. Otherwise, he’s not sure if his –hopefully– mother-in-law knows or remembers who he is.

“She’s been busy.” Jisung defends in a murmur, turning on his heel to walk upstairs to his room. “She told you that?” His mother yells back sardonically once he turns the corner. He ignores her but the glimmer of her pearly whites blind him through his peripheral view. A reminder that he can try to ignore reality but his mother will always be there to remind him. She wouldn’t understand it. She won’t understand when all she sees is that little nine year old coming back from camp excitedly telling her about the friends he made and the pretty girl he wouldn’t stop talking about.

Or the ten year old that was so ecstatic to come back and ask her for her pretty paper to write a letter to that same pretty girl that finally hugged him and gave him her address to write letters to. She took his too and put it in her ‘important things’ box. Jisung saw you do it.

But Jisung is twenty-two now and lives off of the crumbs he gets to devour whenever he rereads every single letter you’ve sent him. His favorite ones are the birthday letters when you send him pictures of yourself with cakes you’ve baked for him even if he couldn’t eat them. He’s content knowing you cared for him that much. He clings to hope more when this year the cake looked even prettier but not as pretty as you in the multiple pictures sent.

He doesn’t entirely care if you only sent one this year or that you did not reply to his own birthday letter for you. He’s glad that you still cared enough to bake him his cake and let him see how much prettier you’ve gotten. One of those pictures is in his wallet at the moment.

It’s insane, no? To fall so head over heels for someone that has never been his. Jisung has known you for over ten years but nothing has progressed past embraces, friendly hand holding, and constant cheek pinches because you found him awfully cute. He still feels your touches linger despite lastly seeing you in person at sixteen.

Longing is the word he’s looking for. Longing and yearning is all he’s done since that last time he saw you and it becomes worse through the years with little to no communication. He wonders if you’re truly that busy to not spare him a few minutes to write back. Or if you’ve found someone that has prohibited you from contacting him further.

He foolishly expected a letter for his college graduation the way you sent him one for his high school graduation but it never came. He’s kept in contact with his other summer camp friends but they’re no good with information regarding you. Most but one left in the dark about your whereabouts. The last he heard from Jaemin, you had gotten a job and as vague as it is, that’s all he told Jisung.

Useless but also valuable. He envies Jaemin sometimes. He was the only one able to get far more closer to you and he doesn’t fully know how to feel about it. While you spent treating Jisung like a child, like a younger brother, things were always complicated between you and Jaemin. Vague as he is, to be specific.

All he can do now is lay on his bed with a cassette he bought precisely because you recommended it. He doesn’t like it but he does like you so he will endure. Endure like he’s done with anything regarding his yearning for you.

With your deliciously perfumed letters, fountain ink stains all over the pages, and images of you scattered across his bed with the music full blast on his walkman— Jisung revels in the pleasure of your indirect touch. Your fingerprints embedded on the paper and their oils seeping into his own skin the way they did years ago with every single one of your touches. He wished those touches were far more than playful and cuteness aggression. That the times your fingers lingered were because you wanted him as near as he wanted you. But once again, he will conform.

Conform, conform, conform.

In his state, Jisung doesn’t hear his mother’s covert steps when he twirls on the bed with images of you laying on his face. And he surely doesn’t hear her when she cracks the door open to spot his hands lingering on his thighs, memories of the time Hyuck and Chenle snuck alcohol on the grounds and all of you had a ball with it. He remembers your hands vividly on his short-clad thighs, giving them gentle squeezes as you chewed his ear off. He remembers the names Ralph Machio and James Spader spewing from your lips here and there. He wanted to shut them up with his, consumed by jealousy but also wonder how they’d feel against his.

Of course he didn’t, the alcohol made things seem funnier than they were and he wouldn’t overstep. Not when he knew his role in the group was to be cute and be taken care of. That’s how you liked him most, he noticed.

And when he twists again to fight off the temptation of letting his fingers crawl to the hem of his pants, a face he’s known all his life is looking at him directly. Startling more when frustrated. “Park Jisung!” leaves her lips, sending his body into a shocking jolt and his walkman flying across the room. His body crushed the photographs he was admiring, much to her delight.

“Mom!” Jisung whines, holding onto his dangerously fast palpating heart. He huffs and pants, attempting to relax himself before dropping another word. “What?” He aims to say calmly but she’s far from that. Her hands on her hips and a stern look around his bed transmits her disappointment, disgust, and anger.

“I read your grandmother’s letter and it turns out she will be spending the remainder of the month with us after all.” Silent scoff, as if this was the most absurd thing. “Take a run to the mall and get her a gift. I didn’t count on her even contacting us.” Well, that explains her foul mood. It’s made worse when all he musters is a nod but doesn’t make an effort to stand up. God, how she would love to pull him by those raven locks or his ear. Whatever gets the message through.

“Well hurry!” That’s all she can muster.

So Jisung does, collecting everything he can and shoving it into a locked box while his mom turns to walk out the door. Embarrassed is all he feels besides shaken up from the scare he gained.

“Don’t forget your gloves and scarf. Don’t want you to catch another cold.” She mutters while mixing whatever she was cooking. It smelled fine but he knew her food became dangerous when cooking upset. It had a life of its own. He hums as a reply, wanting to leave it at that. “Jisung.” She calls again, calmly this time, turning halfway to look at him.

“Forgetting something?”

He shakes his head, bundled up under all warm clothing.

“Sure?”

He nods and she huffs, walking towards him. She kisses his cheeks and the tip of his nose, cupping his face. That reminds him, manifested in a sigh and a smile that he leans down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Bye.”

His bid farewell always leaves him upset. He’s twenty-two, why does she still treat him like he was three? Just yesterday his brother couldn’t stop pinching his cheek after buying him a crepe. Continuing to compare him to a cute little hamster despite Jisung having surpassed him in height.

Three weeks ago when he met with Jaemin to talk about you, the words ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ would not stop spewing from his lips the way bile does. With the exception that Jaemin welcomed these in comparison. Mark, similarly enough, always clutches his face with restraint from crushing his skull and then engulfs him with a bone crushing hug that leaves him aching for minutes to pass.

He thinks Jeno is the only one with sense that treats him his age, yet he’s caught him other times babying him at the arcade. Especially when a stranger playing against Jisung wants to get quippy and there he becomes that eleven year old that Jeno and Hyuck had to defend from some idiots that had just watched Star Wars and felt inclined to the dark side.

Jisung decided to take the car, it was getting colder and he felt the remnants of snowflakes begin to fall even if they could only be seen under a microscope but he was sure of it. He contemplated walking in hopes of ailing himself to disturb his mother’s sanity but proved futile knowing she’d hover over him 24/7 until betterment. Therefore, his sanity would be the one disturbed.

For such a busy season, the streets looked empty and the mall itself wasn’t entirely full besides the movie theatre parking lot. Their billboard lights blinding him the longer he stares to see which movie seemed fun. He should at least get some enjoyment out of this. He can decide later. RIght now he has to pick up something he thinks a geriatric angry woman would like.

Let’s see… She likes disgustingly small yappy dogs like chihuahuas— as angry as her. She likes cats as sick as her… some yarn and new patterns should be a good gift. She doesn’t like those.

Decidedly, Jisung will take a stroll towards the end of the mall. Taking his sweet time to enjoy the scenery of the water fountain. He truly does like the mosaic. The flamingo pink tiles crawl up into a gradient of green tiles that surround the mouth where water spurts out. In better times, it shines under the sun. Right now, not so much.

He doesn’t leave before throwing in five pennies. Five for his birthday and five for safe measure that his wishes are secured. He always wishes for the same two things. Three to hear from you and two to beat Jeno’s centipede high score.

Jisung smiles and nods to himself, walking past the fountain, some water spraying on him. He doesn’t mind, he’ll take it as a sign that one of the two is to be granted soon.

Halfway through a cinnamon sugar pretzel after nearly choking from its dryness, Jisung decides to touch his heart and not gift his grandmother something she doesn’t like despite her being such a vile woman. Instead he should give her something that she won’t ever be able to lift and only admire which leads him to Sur la Table on the east wing of the mall. He grumbles and huffs annoyedly at the walk but he knows it’ll be worth it. Hell, maybe he’ll steal it for himself when she goes senile.

The only thing that he appreciates about this wing is the warm yellow lights from French and Italian wannabe restaurants that aim to attract hungry consumers and cooks. He enjoys the set up at Sur la Table, mainly because he gets to play with their faux kitchen setups and the shock on people’s faces when they overpay for these cookware items. Fooled into consumption from their fabricated experience.

He plays with some of the display pots and pans, twisting knobs and reading tags to see how pretentious he’ll feel after learning about Swedish enamel. He doesn’t know how much that matters —if it's a cash grab— but it sounds fancy. Before him, he prepares some plates. A nice hearty bowl of Caldo de Gallego. Jisung doesn’t know nor understands what it is but he remembers hearing it while flipping through the channels when his father got cable. A monumental moment for him.

“No dessert?”

And just like when his mother scared him shitless back in the privacy of his own room. A familiar voice snapped him out of his public exposition daze.

He goes through the same motions he went through back home. Clutching his harshly palpitating heart, panting and huffing to regain his composure, and feeling embarrassment. If he went through this once more today, he’ll definitely faint for good.

It’s far more embarrassing this time around. He took advantage that the store was nearly empty and no one came to this side of the store but he was proven wrong. Worse yet, the person that scared him was waiting for an answer.

Jisung still feels and hears his heart blaring in his ears but he tries to act cool. Only to fail when his knees buck once he registers the face that’s been accompanying him for the past ten months in his wallet. Albeit something was different. The length and color of your hair that’s for sure.

“Don’t be a stranger, come on.” Your voice is as sweet as he recalls.

Fuck, how he missed it…

Your arms extend to him, pleading for his embrace. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want— as always. Swaddling you with his long limbs and making sure you can’t let go until he is done savoring this moment. He’s truly craved this for as long as he can remember.

A soft giggle works to ease his grip, letting you go with a nervous chuckle of his own. “Sorry.” He speaks, shyly covering his mouth with a sleeve covered hand. The apology not only yours to receive but himself as well for reacting like the little boy he was when you met; for the miniscule regression. He takes in your light head shake but tender smile. It’s a different scene from when he last saw you. There’s an obvious distance that he does not like.

“How have you been? You’ve grown so much!” Instinctively, your hands reach for his face, cradling it while attempting to restrain yourself from pinching his cheeks. You’ve already overstepped by touching him. Instead you give him an awkward giggle and the following words. “What happened to my little Jisungie? You’re even taller than last time.” Jisung can sense your desire to grab him and handle him like you used to but for some reason you’re holding back.

‘Please, please don’t deny me this. Touch me, hug me, pinch me… Just please touch me…’ Jisung wants to blurt out. He’s been starving for years and he finally has you before him, so why won’t you feed him? Don’t be so gluttonous, please…

Jisung won’t voice any of it, he opts to nod with that same gummy smile that you love. “Growth spurt, stuff like that.” He attempts to sound nonchalant but he’s so giddy that he can’t contain himself. You read him like a book.

“So, uh… What are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you in my town.” He questions, scratching his head. You’ve always been a good eight hours away from him, meeting him halfway for camp. Six if you count Chenle’s birthday party in ‘81 in which his parents paid for everyone’s transportation.

Your hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he wont prod. He’s content with having you near, he thinks so. He’ll be sure to start throwing quarters into the fountain for granting him this wish at least.

“Work actually,” You hum, body swaying while you nod. “Oh, right! Jaemin mentioned you got a job, congrats!” He celebrated with genuine happiness but the inkling of curiosity never left him.

‘Please talk to me. Please say more, I crave your voice. Please, I’m too malnourished, can’t you see?

“Did he?”

“That was about it. You know how vague he can be.”

You hum and nod again. This awkward cycle frustrating and hurting him.

Jisung has not spent the past six years missing you for this encounter to be short lived. He’s aware six years was a long time ago and he’s definitely lost contact with other friends but they’ve never mattered the way you do and there’s no way he’s going to waste this opportunity.

“Hey, why don’t we catch up, yeah?” He clutches his arm, swinging a bit and lips puckering before pressing them tightly amongst each other. Your immediate reluctance is easily spotted and it only makes him ache more. He’s not sure what has elicited this behavior but whatever it is, he’ll kick himself over it when you’re not around.

“I don’t know, Ji… I have a report to work on.” You avoid his gaze, knowing that the second you see his pleading eyes you’ll cave in. He knows that too and he knows that if he makes his voice a tad bit squeaky, you’ll begin to crack. You always do.

“Y/n-ie, please…” He tilts his head, crouching to meet your gaze. His big round eyes glistening either from the lights, his own natural charm, or the tears that will spill if you pay him no mind. He doesn’t mean to pout but when his lower lip involuntarily juts out you let out a defeated noise through your teeth followed by grabbing his cheeks and stroking them softly, uttering a “Fine, fine!” to satiate his nerves and your own craving of touching his face like you once did.

His grandma can wait, it’s not like she’ll even use the cookware set any time soon.

“What were you even doing back there?” You break the silence, both walking towards the exit. Without you looking, he tosses a quarter out of gratitude into the fountain when passing by. He swears he can see the tiles gleam and let out satisfied clinks. They’re just as thankful.

With a hand to the back of his neck, he laughs softly. Head turning to you with excuses in mind yet he opts to tell the truth. “I like to pretend it’s my own kitchen whenever I go in there.” He laughs embarrassedly to which he is received with a silent ‘cute’ and observing look.

He’s glad he distracted you but it also feels like a backhanded compliment. Adorable. RIght, that’s what you still think of him.

“By the way. Do you mind grabbing a drink instead? Not a huge fan of coffee… Unless you want to of course.” Jisung suggests, putting his gloves on once both reach outside. He notices your lack of scarf and undoes his while you contemplate an answer. Halting your train of thought when he wraps it around you which ends up making you blurt out a “Sounds good!” in return.

It’s no surprise that the car ride was full of silence but at least the radio muffled your thoughts and hopefully his own if he had any regarding the atmosphere. There was a part of him that grew resentful and hurt with the lack of conversation but the greater part was ecstatic to have you so near. This is what he’s dreamt and wished for for years and he finally has it. He does not plan on wasting any millisecond of both your times.

Jisung wasn’t an avid drinker and did not know much about alcohol besides what his friends have shown him. His parents didn’t drink and his grandmother would shove a can of miller high life onto his hand if he ever spoke more than his usual five sentences. The way parents shove a bottle into a crying baby’s mouth to put it to rest. Why did he request a drink instead, though? Simply to gain some courage. Lord knows he’ll need it if things keep going the way they’ve been.

The place he took you to wasn’t that different from the ones you’ve been to during your college days. With ugly stained yellow walls, dart boards and old decorations hanging on them. Wooden columns covered in thick layers of resin as were the counters and tables. Grumpy beer-bellied bar tenders arguing over the football game playing on screen right now with already drunk customers. Yeah, not ideal for a first date but the only bar he knew. The only piece worth being valuable a signed poster of James Hunt.

What the hell was James Hunt doing in this fuck ass town?

He let you go in first upon finding a booth hidden in the back of the bar. Far more darker and cozier at this end. Perhaps due to the lack of distance he kept between you two when he himself slid in, his arm instinctively resting on the backrest of the booth around your head. The need to simply wrap it around your shoulders killing him.

“Pretty cold out there, right?” Jisung began, removing his gloves and jacket, shoving ghe former in the pockets. You didn’t turn to him, responding with a hum as you remove the scarf. He frowns at this, slumping against the backrest, watching you look through the standee with all drink names.

“What are you ordering, Jisung?” He hadn’t thought about it, more immersed in hearing your voice. Either Way he didn’t know a single brand of alcohol, ‘Lite’ the only word in relevance to alcohol that he knew. “You choose, I’m fine with whatever.” He diverts, leaning closer to you to read the alcohol options.

Though, as if you could read minds, you turn to look at him. A soft smile with narrowed eyes focusing on him. “Are you sure you want to drink? We can get something else, I don’t mind.” You suggest, expression relaxing now seeing how easily he reacted.

“Yes! I mean no! No, I would really like a drink, unless you want something else.” Jisung tumbled through his words. The bashful look on his face raises your lack of restraint in grabbing and handling him the way you’ve done so many years ago. Oh how truly adorable he remains. Although, he’s gotten quite handsome. Too handsome for his own good.

“Okay,” You nod, fingers ghosting over his cheek to reassure him– never touching, just yet.

Raising your hand to call a bartender over, one of the two begrudgingly stroll to your table. Tossing a worn out and smelly towel over his shoulder, he gives both of you a look as if to hurry up and order. With reluctance and indignance, you scoff. “Two blackberry smashes. Whiskey in both.”

“We ain’t got that stuff here.” His mannerisms were comical and absurd. As if he was angry that a request was made but also so nonchalant, so careless for your presence. More interested in going back to his game.

“Fine, two pints of your house beers, tap and two shots of your cheapest tequila. ” Jisung thinks your voice now matches the arrogance and annoyance of the bartender. He sort of likes it, it reminds him of the times you yourself had defended him against snobs at camp.

The balding bartender grunts as a response, sounding like an okay before leaving. “Swear, it’s like he's being held at gunpoint to work here, Jesus.” You shake your head, attitude dropping when you notice his reddened cheeks. Curse him and his presentable fondness. “Oh I’m sorry, Ji. Was I being mean?” Your body turns to him, hand clutching his out of habit. Jisung smiles at the contact, looking at it briefly before looking at you. “No, you were perfect.” He utters, reveling in your touch.

You smile at him, embarrassed. Something that he takes with pride. “You never told me what you were cooking up in that kitchen, you know.” You aim to divert the focus. He chuckles at it, “Caldo de Callo. I heard it on TV, I think the host said it was a Spanish dish. Never had Spanish food.” He sounded so proud yet clueless at the same time. Though, you tilt your head, lips parting and closing the further your eyebrows furrow. He hears you hum and finally ask, “Do you mean Caldo Gallego?”

Jisung can see you stifle a laugh when his face begins to feel insanely hot, scorching even. Embarrassment written all over his face that he has to bury them in his sleeve-covered hands, groaning into them about how stupid he sounded. If only he knew that what he originally said translated to ‘callous soup’.

Endearing is the word you’d call it though. Endearing he is with his crescent shaped eyes and shamed pout. Endearing are the whines and groans he lets out when you can’t seize your giggles. He thinks about telling you to stop but doesn’t, your noises far more prettier and enjoyable even if at the expense of his misery.

“It’s okay, Jisungie.” You elongate his name, “It sounds similar, don’t fret too much!” You giggle, petting his hair as one does a child trying to comfort them. He enjoys your touch but doesn’t enjoy the slight patronizing tone to your voice. He’s not sure if he can call it patronizing because he’s aware there’s no malice intent behind your words but it did sound condescending in the way those speak to their juniors and he was tired of you treating him like one the longer the night progressed.

Jisung huffs, sighing when his head touches the table. He turns to look at you momentarily, distracted when your drinks arrive. He hears a few forced thank you’s and sarcastic my pleasures. Your feud with the bartender is amusing but not for this time. Right now he wants to focus on this sentiment brewing in his chest.

He gives you one last glance before reaching for the shot glasses. “To seeing each other again?” Such a simple question that made you hum pensively. You don’t deny it, clinkling your glasses together before dowing the burning liquor. With the taste of battery acid buring your throat, Jisung on the other hand clutches his throat, spitting it out onto a bundle of napkins.

You find him so agonizingly cute that your hands begin to ache to touch him and squeeze the life out of him. How adorable can someone be?! “Oh Jisungie… Tequila isn’t for everyone.” You tut, shaking your head. “Perhaps I should order you some apple juice to soothe that, yeah?”

Your giggle makes his ears ring, that same gnawing feeling that you're mocking him consuming him. He knows you’re not doing it on purpose. That you truly care for his wellbeing but is he truly that easy to perceive as naive and childish that you won’t see him as more? Sure, he didn’t like the tequila but so what? It was their cheapest one. If it had been a bit more expensive, then he’s sure he would have drank it as easy as you. He’s not a kid, why won’t you see that?

Jisung doesn’t voice it though, sighing while redirecting the conversation. “Were you doing some last minute shopping back at the mall?” He questions, obvious discontent and melancholy in his voice. You let it be, nodding as a response before shaking your head when you register the question. Too enthralled with how pretty he looks like this. Face flushed from the alcohol and embarrassment. So cute, so adorable, so perfect. Your Jisungie.

“No, no, actually I went with intentions to watch a movie but the cinema won’t play the movie I wanted to watch so I was on my way out when I saw you through the window doing your little thing.” Your giggle sends him into orbit. He feels lightheaded. Your words weren’t laced with judgment but fondness, he’s thankful for it this time.

“What movie?” Jisung attempts to act as if you didn’t affect him.

“Uh…” Your hesitance piques his interest. “Sex, Lies, and Videotape.” Well it seems that it’s you who is embarrassed now. He takes it, smiling to himself. “Gee, I wonder why they wouldn’t screen this at a regular movie theater.” He giggles, wiping the corner of his mouth when he feels some leftover alcohol residing there.

“Okay now, I had just gotten out of a meeting. My brain was not fully cooperating.” He giggles some more, his teeth now clutching his sleeve. “Honestly, why would a movie like that interest you?” You smile at him, the rim of your beer glass pressing against your lips. “James Spader.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips while he himself takes a sip of his beer. It’s unrefined and messy. The way the lager alcohol slips down the corner of his mouth and slicks his lips when he places it down. You watch it all through the window of your own, taking slow sips to admire his silent tantrum. He’s never been fond of James Spader. Or any other man you’ve mentioned.

“He’s not all that, you know.” Jisung mutters with a pout, leaning against the backrest. You don’t laugh like you intended. You simply acknowledge him through the handkerchief you pull out of your pocket to softly wipe the residue of beer before it becomes sticky on his skin. He can taste the flavor of your black cherry lip gloss when you swipe it over his lips.

Such an intimate moment prompts him to take a grasp of your free hand, playing with your fingers like he’s done before. “Oh please. He’s the perfect blend of sensible and… manly.” Jisung can only guess you’re thinking of James Spader with the way you bite your lower lip and narrow your eyes. A lustful sigh escapes your nostrils which serves as confirmation to his inquiry.

Seemed like a bunch of bullshit, if you were to ask Jisung what he thought. If you wanted those qualities then why didn’t you realize how perfect Jisung was? Maybe he’s being a little self absorbed or malleable to your desires but so what? He’ll do anything to make you look at him.

Furrowing his eyebrows, dropping your hand and pointing at his chest, Jisung spoke. “I’m sensible and manly!” It sounded more whiny than he expected which would prove to throw off whatever result he wished for. Of course it would, your laugh seems to provide an answer to such.

“I don’t know about the latter…” Your hum upsets him more.

“I am!”

“I don’t know. Just look at how cute you look pouting like that…”

Jisung huffs, upset at your continuous dismissiveness. Must you always remind him of his inferiority? What must he do if you won’t see that he’s a grown man now?

“I am, I’ll prove it to you.” His tone must have sounded significantly bratty that you receive it with patronization. Sarcastically telling him to prove it then if he was so manly.

So he did. He did in the way his large hands cradled your face, warming up your cheeks although that might be from the immediate heat his actions spurred. He proves it through his stealthy moves, bringing his face closer to yours in which he allows his lips to ghost over yours for milliseconds before finally connecting them.

Shocked is what you would describe this feeling clinging onto your chest. Never in a million years would you have thought about kissing Jisung. Sure, you’ve kissed his cheeks and forehead in the past, but that’s what friends do with someone they find adorable and innately drawn to. Jisung has always been hard to avoid, even if you wanted to, one look in those glistening round eyes and you’d submit to his every wish. Everyone does.

His lips moved with inexperience, soft and slow but uncoordinated with no idea where to go from there. His internal debates made obvious when he would part his lips for a second before going back to what seemed like peppered pecks. The way dolphins kiss. You wonder if this is his first kiss or how he kisses overall. If so, you’re only sorry that it’s so miserable.

Jisung eventually determines that he should stop. Either from shame at how uneventful it was or, well, simply because it was uneventful. Rather you two stare at each other for what felt like ages. His confidence is dying down along with your shock. By now both reverting back to your usual personas which meant that he shyly tried to look around without breaking eye contact and you, sternly looking at him without blinking much in order to gain answers.

He sighs knowing this was a lost cause. Rubbing the back of his neck, his body shifts to face you more than before. “Why haven’t you sent me any letters? Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?...” Jisung hates how easy it is for him to transmit his emotions onto his voice. While he hates to sound whiny, he would prefer that over the hurt that enveloped every single syllable he’s spewed out. What he hates more is that he’s not able to shut his mouth. “You have my home number, you have my address. Why haven’t you replied to my letters?”

“Jisung…”

“No! Please tell me.” God, how he hates how dismissive you can be, “I’ve been waiting for you for years. Please give me something, anything.”

Jisung’s face contorts the longer he begs, his lips reddening and puffing more than normal. His cheeks are ravished by that harsh crimson that warms them, borderline scorching. His voice, now a mixture of hurt but whiney that makes you shift at how uncomfortable you are that it spurred something in your chest, now traveling down to your abdomen. You really want to slap yourself for this.

Your Jisungie. Your sweet Jisungie, you idiot!

“I’m sorry, Ji. I was busy with my discretion and didn’t have time for anything. Then I graduated and it was a bloodbath to even get a job right out of college. I mean, I almost threw myself to the sharks and contemplated going to a convent. Can you imagine? All my hard work wasted. Then this year…”

Almost like a child that should have not spoken, Jisung raises an eyebrow when you reach for your beer glass, using it as a shield to make you stop talking. He grew increasingly irritated by your silence. “This year what, Y/n?!”

He’s never spoken to you like this which raises concerns with how you don’t mind it. In fact, you surprisingly invite it, although in minimal quantities. Seeing as there was no way out of it, you sigh, shoulders slumping. “Then this year I saw your mom at the film store around Easter. We were both picking up pictures and we talked for a bit until I asked about you and she said that you had a girlfriend. That I should probably be conscious that not all girls are comfortable with their boyfriend being so close to other girls. That she wouldn’t take kindly to seeing me send you letters so often, let alone pictures…”

Jisung has never been angry at his mother. Sure, irritated and hurt. But never angry, which seems to be a feeling he never thought he’d harbor for the woman that has given him life and all the love a child deserves. He knew his mom wasn’t too keen on his infatuation on you, he’s not sure if it’s for the difference in age or weary of someone she hasn’t fully met besides a few encounters on drop-off and pick-up day at camp.

He always imagined that she would come around once she truly met you, so why was she trying to sabotage him on something he’s been begging every single deity for?!

“So, if you have a girlfriend, why the hell did you just do that, Jisung?” The disgust and confusion in your voice made him feel far more awful than he already was. Appalled would probably be a greater feeling, though. He’s made sure to let you know that with the harsh ‘what?!’ that spews out of his lips like a hymn.

“What the fuck? I’ve never had a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, why would she say that?” He questions the latter to himself, unaware that he’s confessed his inexperience to you (as if it wasn’t noticeable); shifting his attention to you shortly after. “Why would you believe her in the first place? I’ve never looked at anyone but you! Why won’t you see that?”

It’s not his grasp on your shoulders that startles you but rather the sincerity in his confession. Never in a million years did you think you’d be hearing these words from Jisung. The fuzziness in your chest adds to that shock which confuses you and at the same time disgusts you.

Jisung is far more perceptive than you had thought, “Please… It’s been you since the summer we met…” He goes back to pleading, his grasp softening. Kneading your arms as to beg for contact on your end. You hate how much this is luring you into whatever he wants. You’ve never been able to say no to him, yet again these found feelings are clashing with those you’ve fostered since you met him.

It’s vile and conflicting to see him in such a sweet light. As your junior who’d you do anything for, to… this incessant needy and lovestruck man that keeps begging for an ounce of affection in any form possible. If it was for Jisung he’d be on his knees kissing the sole of your shoe as long as you get to tell him you love him the way he loves you.

You sigh, contemplating on what to do or what to feel. “I don’t know, Jisung.” You huff conflicted. You’ve always been like a little br–” His hand covers your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. His eyes tremble and you realize that he’s much closer than he had been. “Don’t finish that. Please don’t ever say that again…” He begs and begs. Either it be his words, the way his eyes look at you, or his body language.

“I’m twenty-two, I’m taller than my own older brother or any of the friends we made in camp. I can drink and smoke if I want. I’m a man now, Y/n. Not that scrawny squeaky voiced kid you met long ago. I don’t need you to see me like that. So please… erase that from your brain and see me as I am now.”

You don’t know if you hate him or yourself at the moment. You’ve never been one to reject change, in fact you welcome it but it’s different when it comes to the image of people you like. Fuck it, you’re even upset at how deep you’re thinking about this when within a few minutes you might think this is stupid and unserious.

“If age is the problem, don’t let it get to you. We don’t even have a disgusting gap. For goodness sake, we were in the same group classifications every year at camp and Mark had already hit the group limit. That should be enough to get you out of whatever hellhole you’re digging yourself into.”

See? Eventually things could turn so unserious and with the sound of his voice, rather bratty and accusatory. “Do you not like me, is that it? Do you not find me desirable?” He questions, head nodding to incentivize an answer from you. He almost makes it seem natural and you wonder how many times he’s done this before. Push people’s buttons until he gets an answer. You suppose he truly has grown.

The Jisung you last knew would never whine for something like this. All he had to do was say please with a pout and he’d get what he wanted. Far more innocent and civilized. This was crude, erotic, and mocking. You expect him to give you a cheshire smile when he gets what he wants in comparison to his gummy one full of appreciation.

Yes, he’s no longer a boy. He’s now a sweetly cunning man.

“It’s not that.” You blurt out, cursing yourself at the admittance that he has more of a chance than either of you could’ve thought. Expectedly, that cheshire smile presents itself slowly. Sultrily, he speaks. “Then what is it?” He whispers, lips to your ear as his hands create a path down your upper body.

The words hang heavy on your tongue, distracted by his touch. Finding his large hands more pleasurable than you could’ve thought. “I actually don’t know…” You confess sincerely, eyelids fluttering when they land on your knee, fingers padding over the clothed flesh. Contemplating on whether to stay where they are at or slide up.

Ecstatic by your bodily response, he smiles sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “Let me prove it to you… Let me erase that image of me you have, please…” He begs, lips trailing to your cheek, a blazing trail branding your skin. When they reached your lips, you couldn’t deny him the wonders of being kissed in return.

You both sigh into the kiss the second they perfectly slot into each other. It’s slick and wet, albeit, much more pleasurable than his first one. This one you’re able to enjoy the delicacy of those plump red lips that envelope yours and leave a delicious sting that makes you crave for more.

Your hands paw at his sweater, drawing him closer to feel his warmth. He takes this opportunity to let his hands roam up your thighs, massaging the insides until he decides that he won’t wait and lets his hand crawl to the hem of your skirt. His hands –scorching– against your skin when he manages to pull down your tights. Bunching them around your knees and covering your legs with his jacket.

He smiles into the kiss when he feels you react to his feather touches. Taunting the idea of touching you further. He’s not too cruel though, not when this is what he’s wanted for so long. Therefore, he decides to reward both of you by letting his fingers go under your panties, the cotton feeling like heaven against his knuckles. He revels in the feeling of your wetness clinging to the fabric. Cooling against his skin while he lets his fingers waltz up and down your folds. Contemplating what their next move will be, unpreoccupied since you seem to enjoy whatever he is currently giving you. He can see it with the way your eyelids flutter and the kiss grows hungrier, needier. This is all he truly wanted.

Jisung decides to not taunt you any longer. He’s never wanted to upset you. Allowing his fingers to softly part your lips, twisting his ring clad middle finger and inserting the long digit into you. They felt so cold within your walls, forcing a gasp to leave your lips. He took that opportunity to muffle it with his tongue the second it intruded the cavity of your mouth.

The muscle, surprisingly strong as it dances along with yours, savoring the delicacy of your taste. This is overshadowed by the spasm of your legs the slower he pumped his finger into you. Molding your walls to the ribs of his nimble and spindly digits. Your pleasure is exerted through sighs and hungry kisses which he consumes all you give him. He thinks this is enough incentive to insert a second finger. This time his ring finger, quickly adapting it to the movement of the other one. It’s nice to feel the contrast between his warm acclimated finger to the cold shorter one.

His fingers move slowly, picking up the pace when he decrees that you deserve more pleasure than he currently grants you. He’s driven by the way you cling to him, hands going under his sweater and clutch his sides, fingernails softly taking the warm flesh. Jisung finds it delicious how you cling to him the way your walls grip to his fingers. Sucking him in and keeping them in place whenever he thinks of even taking them out without making you come first.

Neither speak but the silent mewls that leave your lips is enough to let him know he’s doing something good. He’s proven right when you softly nip at his swollen lips, sucking on the lower one, resulting in him releasing a shaking breath.

You will be the death of him.

Jisung found that he loved how you look when you writhe in pleasure in his arms. He thinks you look otherworldly with the way your lips part to release those sweet chants he has recorded in his brain. Enticing when your tongue sticks out to cling to his and his lips just to know he’s still there making you feel better than you’ve felt in a while. He knows you're ready when you gnaw at his lips and jaw, holding to the back of his neck as your lips trail as hungrily as his, prior. Leaving a trail of rouge that he wishes to seep into his skin like a tattoo.

When he feels your teeth cling to his jugular, he can’t help but let out a guttural moan, thankful at how secluded this booth was. His fingers reward that feeling by moving faster, his thumb rubbing delicate yet quick circles on your clit. At some point he felt scared that your cunt would swallow his rings with every clench around his fingers. You were so close and all he felt was pride and gratification that it was him that was making you feel this way.

Fuck, he could explode in his pants right now.

“Jisungie…I can’t hold back anymore.” You pant, leaving open mouthed kisses along his Adam's apple. Tongue roaming and savoring the saltiness of his skin taut on his clavicles.

He’s no one to make you suffer and not get what you want. Instinctively, his fingers pick up the pace, pushing them as far as he can. Curling them and covering your mouth when the volume of your prayers increase. Swallowing them whole when he connects his mouth with yours, luxuriating in the sybaritism of your orgasm through your kiss and spasming legs.

It takes you a minute to calm down, panting softly. Jisung looks down at you with a pleased smile, his fingers still in you, pruning by the second but he doesn’t mind. He sighs constantly, kissing you softly this time. It’s sweet and tender, similar to the first one he gave you with the difference that your cooperation makes it run smoothly.

When he parts, his fingers slowly ease out, causing you to shudder. You feel so empty and cold at the lack of his touch. Rewared only by the mere fact that he prods your lips with his ring finger, slowly entering your mouth. You savor yourself on him, tongue running along the underside, lingering on his finger pad.

No one has ever done this for you. Look at and treat you like you’re their whole world despite the lewd scenery.

His finger slips far more slick from your lips than it had entered your mouth. He takes them up to his own, running them along like a brush on the most pristine parchment. Letting its ink sink into the grooves and cement itself for eternity.

Biting your lower lip, you examine the way he takes both fingers into his mouth. Pupils blown out once he’s fully swallowing the taste of you in all forms. He knew you were perfect but this is beyond that. This is an exquisiteness he’s never savored before. He will never be satisfied again.

Jisung leans down making you think he was to kiss you again. The reality was that your essence was more inebriating than the shot of tequila and the pint of beer sitting on the table before him that he had to have a taste of the fruit directly.

In swift motions, he moves his jacket from your legs, shoving your skirt up and letting it fall over his head. Despite the awkward angle, Jisung managed to swipe the tip of his tongue against your slick cunt. The muscle parting your lips and forcing a gasp out of you.

It’s a mixture of shock and pleasure. He was shameless and that made it so hot and intoxicating, yet fear was consuming you. Forcing you to take a grasp at the back of his neck and pull him up with as much delicate force as you could muster. Like a starving kitten, parted from its mother’s tit, Jisung fetches your lips.

He looks so pretty and so stupid. So drunk and starved for you. The feeling so obvious in his hazy eyes and wet lips from your come that he has yet to lick or press against your own. You give him the latter, kissing him to satiate his need for just a bit. Biting his lower lip to calm him down.

“Don’t be so greedy, Jisung.” You scold against his lips, removing your mangled and wet tights and shoving them into your pocket. He cries like a kicked puppy but nods, getting out of the booth and helping you out knowing you’ll look like a newborn deer after his filthy handling.

Neither of you pay any mind to the cashier that takes in the payment. Weary eyes scanning you both and scoffing without questions. It’s not his first rodeo.

Drunk in a daze, Jisung doesn’t question when you give him directions. He expected it to be a hotel, one you should be staying at for work. It dawns upon him that it’s your apartment when he sees you punch in the entry code.

You’ve been so close all this time and he doesn’t knows how to take it. It’s evident in the look he gives you when you both enter the apartment and he looks around. His lips parting to question it but being shushed by your lips and hands tugging at the hem of his sweater to pull it off his body. Leaving him bare and goosebump filled before you.

“Not now…” you whisper against his chest, kissing his torso and pecks, nipping his nipple. You can talk about reality once you’re finished.

Jisung sighs but welcomes the feel of your lips and touch all over him. His own fingers unbutton your coat and cardigan, pushing them off simultaneously to make his fingers crawl to your back and unclasping your bra.

He withers and hunches over when your hands push down his pants, grasping his hard and leaking cock through his briefs. The wet spot ironically forming a heart. His Lip part, erotically to let out breathy gasps and pants. For this, you kiss him like he once did. Invading his mouth with your own tongue, holding his face in your hands, making sure he makes no effort in separating until both you feel the air escaping your bodies.

In the process, both of you manage a waltz in ridding of the remaining clothes. Kicking off any shoes and underwear, leaving each other bare in the middle of your living room. If he was given the time to admire it more, he’d tell you that it was truly what he expected of you— positively.

Instead he’s eating you alive, carnivorously gnawing at your lips in hopes to draw blood. An act that you embrace and let him do as he pleases. Simply because you’ll return the favor with as much fervor that you both will let the crimson paint itself on your lips the way your rogue has marked his skin.

When air finally did what you expected it to do, Jisung connects his forehead against yours. Both panting and drawing your bodies flush against each others. He grins seeing the little number he did against your lips, the cracks of them full like a dried up river during dry seasons. If only he knew he looked the same.

“Eat me… take your time in consuming me…” you implore, the words playing over and over in his brain as he pushes you down on the couch. Dropping to his knees without a care of what your neighbor on the bottom floor will say or if his palid knees will bruise instantly. For you, he’ll writhe in pain.

Jisung wastes no time, he separates your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His head delves in between the pretty image of your cunt and clings his lips around it fully. His lips suctioning while his tongue teases your entrance. His grasp on your inner thighs is a bit harsh but pleasurable enough that you’ll enjoy seeing the marks he’ll leave on them tomorrow.

He’s fueled more by your sweet words and the tugs at his raven hair by your fingers that curl on the locks. It feels much better when your nails scratch his scalp and for that he sucks on your clit. Incentive or reward, they��re interchangeable.

“Ah!… take your time…” you moan, head thrown back and giving him a pretty image of the expanse of your neck and the way your nipples perk. You look so heavenly that he knows it’s blasphemous. The way the overhead light shines behind your head, creating a glowing halo and he’s glad that it’s Sunday for this is his mass and holy communion. His mother should not dislike you after this.

Jisung lets his tongue roam around your cunt, savoring every crevice, picking up every single drop that spills from you. Be it that no one has ever paid such devotion to your mound, your legs begin to shake around his head. Your hands cling to his hair and pull him closer and closer to the point his nose manages to create a pleasurable pressure against your clit.

This is no problem for him. He lavishes himself in your taste and smell, moaning against you to create further sensitivity which is appreciated and you reward him by coming almost immediately when he lays his tongue flat on you to lick down and enter deep into you.

A slew of moans leave your lips but his name is the one you scream out. “Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.” Oh how well has conforming paid him off. For this he leans back on his feet, hands rubbing his thighs and teasing his own sensitive cock as he watches you writhe on the soiled couch. A lake of your come seeping into the faux leather, shimmering as its reflection on his lips, nose, and chin. How beautiful you both look.

Animalistically and greedily so, Jisung dives back in. This time pulling your body further down the couch. Leaving you limp and folded while he raises your hips and clings to them. He’s more messy and filthy about it this time around. He allows his lips to suck harshly and lick as consolation just to softly bite your clit and make you cry out masochistically.

Hypersensitivity, a force that travels in the form of your loud moans and cries. That’s what fuels him and it feels so sadistic but he indulges himself at least this once. He’s hopeful it won’t be the only time but for now he will enjoy it as it is.

He can hear you begging to please let you finish. That you don’t have it in you to last long anymore but he doesn’t relent just yet. Not when his hips buck forward and shudder with every grace of his cock against the leather of your couch. It’s so cold and harsh that it hurts but it also feels so good that he can’t help but be excited at how your soft and warm walls will soothe his dick like ointment to a wound.

That seems more exciting, yes.

All right, Jisung will please you once more. He kisses your cunt softly, long and languid velvet like kitten licks to push you further. His own rutting is much slower which proves to be a painful decision for he can’t control himself when his abdomen cramps up and painfully moans against your chest as he stands up to release all over your swollen and irritated cunt.

The feeling of his come feels like boiling water spilt on an open wound. It makes you come for the third time this night, the feeling increasing when he hums hungrily as he rubs his come in a sheer layer, ointment to your ache. The remaining that stuck to his hand, on his cock, rubbing up and down to suffer that same overstimulation at his own hands. This is his solidarity for what he’s caused you.

Tired and panting, Jisung takes a seat beside you. Caressing your face while trying to regain some stamina. You’re so spent that you lean into his touch, kissing his soiled hand and licking the saltiness off of it to savor him the way he has you.

Fuck… that’s making his dick twitch.

“Pure nectar from the forbidden fruit.” Jisung leans into your ear, kissing your cheek softly as he helps you onto his lap. You whine but ultimately allow him for there’s one more thing he can offer you and you need it.

His fingers are soft when they touch your entrance. It’s so soft and so warm, he can only imagine how sensitive you are. The image makes him moan softly against your ear. Your head resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. Limp yet so needy against his body. The body heat between both creates a layer of perspiration that travels from that connection onto your entire body.

Jisung rubs your back in soothing circles, leaving peppered kisses onto your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He inhales and exhales like his life depended on it, kiss after kiss after kiss.

“You’ve always been so good to me, Y/n. Do you like how I’m thanking you?” He hums, lifting your face with a finger on your chin. “Yes…” you sincerely confess in a breath, returning the favor with a slow kiss that allows your tongues to finally explore and examine each other the way you both are doing. By any form, you two will always find a way to please each other.

“And, I think I should keep going so you can fully understand how much I like you and have liked you…” he mutters in between kisses, his tongue shoving the words down your throat so you’ll digest them immediately.

You can only nod, feverishly and with a shiver down your spine when he holds your lower back, helping you up while the tip of his cock rubs slowly against your folds. You can tell it’s helping him get hard. His flaccid cock rapidly hardens with every stroke, his breathing increases and comes out shaky against your ear. It doesn’t help that you’re kissing his throat like you were back at the bar with the exception that they’re less hungry and far more passionate.

“Can I fuck you, Y/n?” He begs, eyes droopy in a plea. If it wasn’t because of how he’s holding you, you’d be sure his hands would be together in a prayer. You hum, pretending to contemplate when your answer had been decided long ago.

“I don’t know…” you tease. God only knew his abhorrence of those stupid three words. He’ll make sure to knock them out of your vocabulary if you say yes. For now, like the brat he is, he shakes and writhes, tantrum-like while his words come out in elongated whines.

“Please, Y/n…” he cries out, his grasp on you tightening slightly. You hum again but you don’t speak, basking in the pretty sounds he makes when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“You can’t feed me and then starve me… I’ll go crazy if I don’t taste you again.” He pleads, lower lip jutting out and letting his face get closer to yours. He’s so pretty like this that you can’t help but concede.

With a giggle you nod, “Very well then.” You tell him, kissing his cheek. The sweet act is gone when he lowers you down on his hard cock. You had seen it moments prior but hadn’t registered that the stretch would sting like this. It’s not bad, matter of fact it feels so fucking good… and it doesn’t help that he’s long enough that you feel him in your stomach.

“Ji…” You moan out in parts, eyelids fluttering as he bottoms out. Jisung sucks in air through his teeth when he feels your ass on his balls, squishing them and begging them to please you. That is something that he will hear out anytime.

Your voice sends him a whirlwind, “Give me your hand.” You request from him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fact that you wanted him to see and feel what he was doing to you, you’d spend more time admiring his large hands. Seeing them this way, you can understand how he made you come perfectly.

Leaning back causes you to squish his testicles further. A moan leaves his lips hungrily as he admires you through hooded lids, his head thrown over the backrest. When he feels where you placed his hand, he snaps it up, admiring the prominent budge on your stomach and how warm it felt to be in you.

“See?” You ask in the sweetest tone, smiling at him. He returns it with a nod, caressing what he’s caused. Instinctively, he bucks his hips upward, a moan erupting from both your lips due to the friction and the image. It’s like a live painting being made before him.

“So pretty…” he coos, his fingers dancing around the imprint. His thrusts increase in pace, your head rolling back in pleasure. It’s not fair that he has to do all the work; holding onto your thighs, you begin moving up and down on his shaft.

His moans get louder and his hands roam your body like undiscovered land. Landing on your breast and squeezing them. Your own hands leave your thighs to help him in kneading, yelping when his fingers take a hold of your nipples to squeeze them. “You’re doing so good, Jisungie.” You praise, each word received with a hard thrust from him and a whine, thanking you.

“My Jisungie is so big now…” you moan, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, he holds your hips while increasing his pace. “Such big hands,” reaching for one, you kiss his palm before letting it fall to its initial spot.

“Such big pretty lips…” Your teeth nip his lower lip, reopening the cut from your earlier‘s cannibalistic game. “The most beautiful big eyes.” And with a drop of his blood on your lip, you kiss his eyelid. Eyelashes flutter upon feeling your warm moist flesh.

You attempt to sound just as tempting and sultry, but his thrusts along your hips hopping on his dick— your words leave out in broken moans and cries.

“And such a fucking big dick that will make my guts yearn for it again.”

Jisung’s eyes blow out, lips parting and licking off the blood from them. He allows himself to be vocal now. There’s no holding back when his hands grasp your ass and hold you in place. His hips move up rapidly, reaching deeper than he had previously. Your lower body stings from his handling, it doesn’t help that his testicles are slapping against you that creates an echo to play all over your living room.

You’re being fucked stupid that no coherent words attempt to leave you anymore. Anything that does are moans and cries which he swallows entirely when he grasps your jaw harshly to kiss you as messy and wettly as he did at the bar. There’s some teeth and so much tongue but neither care when the feeling of your walls molding around his cock, that they’ll forget how good his fingers initially made you feel.

He’s so swollen, you feel it with every thrust the same way he feels you grip him with no intention of letting go until you both get what you want. It’s such a perfect fit that makes his abdomen ache. He’s so ready and so are you.

“Finish… please, finish.” He begs, hips move messily and mindlessly. He’s so ready to be done but he needs you to come first. It’s not until he shifts and brings you closer that his mouth wraps around your tit. Hungrily kissing it like a starved animal. His teeth take no mercy in biting the skin around and your nipple, leaving indentations of his pretty teeth. At least you’ll have his smile engraved on you.

He continues on the second one, your nipples so hard that they ache from his sucking and biting. And when he feels the needs to insert two fingers in you while he fucks desperately with squelches imploring you both to finish, you can’t help but clamp around him with a loud moan erupting from your lips and coming around him. Fingers and cock.

Your cries don’t seize, they only increase when he himself spills within you. It’s so warm, almost hot and there’s so much that you can feel it run down the sides as he remains in you. Poor Jisung, he had been holding it for so long. Your poor little, Jisungie.

You squirm on top of him, shaking from the great orgasm. Something you hadn’t had since that one time you masturbated at nineteen. Thank you Jisung for being such a great sport.

“You know,” Jisung is the first to talk, swallowing. He was parched. “I’m so glad I waited for this.” He smiles tiredly, you giggle with a sigh but ultimately nod. “I’m sure other girls were satisfying enough.” You say, to which he shakes his head.

“No, I meant sex.” He confesses confidently until he coils in when he realizes what he’s said. Your surprised look only makes the feeling grow. “No way.”

He nods

“No way! There’s no way you fucked me this good with it being your first time!” You attempt to lean back to look at him but your body aches and it also decrees that it wants to cling to Jisung’s as much as it can so the most you muster is looking up at him.

It’s such a pretty image when you notice the bashful look on his face, crimson blush consuming his entire body. How he, out of custom, smiles and throws his head back with his index finger extended under his nose to cover his mouth. There’s your sweet Jisung.

You laugh quietly, hand going up to caress his hair. “So cute… you’ll always be my cute Jisungie.” The statement is received with a groan but ultimately, Jisung relents. Kissing you once more, refined and sweetly. He understand what you mean and he also understands that you mean it differently now. Therefore, he won’t dwell on it. Sure, you’ll always look at him in such a sweet image but now with the addition that he has proven to you how much he’s grown… as a man.

#kwritersworldnet #kvanity #park jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #park jisung x you #park jisung x reader #nct #nct fic #park jisung

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heyyallitssatan · 3 days ago

Text

The Justice League were on a planet they didn’t know in a galaxy they couldn’t be bothered to remember, at least they were fairly sure they were still in the universe they were before they left Earth.

They had just arrived and were looking at the charging army of a species they vaguely recognised from the rather threatening video call they received before jumping into hyperspace.

They heard and ship land behind them, and as they turned to look they had one collective thought: oh, Batman’s here, we’ll be okay. Because if they were being perfectly honest with themselves they didn’t have a plan before jumping galaxies, well that’s not entirely true, they had something of a plan, ask them why they had a large laser pointed at Earth, okay maybe the video call and threats were made in retaliation to their equipment being destroyed, and then probably beat the crap out of them.

Honestly, it wasn’t the worst idea they’ve ever walked into battle with. But Batman probably had a better one, and he was here now.

When they watched him step out of the ship by himself, well they went from reassured to down right relieved. He was alone, that meant he had a plan, knew how to execute it, and expected to be home in time to snag one of Alfred’s cookies before the kids got a hold of them.

Batman stepped off the ships runner, and stopped. He just stopped, about a foot from the ship and probably 20 from the league. He was only standing stock still like that for a moment, before the league all watched Robin follow down the runner and stand beside his father.

Alright we’ll Robin’s fine Bats probably just brought him to give him a little more off world experience-

Oh shit is that Red Robin too?

It was, he was typing away on his little wrist screen and without look up came to a stop perfectly aligned with Bats and Robin.

Ok, we that’s not great but they’ll still probably be fine- Oh god fucking dammit!

Signal and Spoiler spill out after them, and the League knows better than to expect anything but the worst case scenario at this point. So when Nightwing flips out after them they weren’t surprised, maybe a little disappointed though.

A few of the more hopeful members still had their fingers crossed when Black Bat and Red Hood stepped out together.

The entire league visibly deflated as the last bats stepped off the platform, they were fucked now, absolutely, definitely, indubitably (that’s a big word for Elmo) fucked.

Suddenly, with moves only speedsters and Diana probably could have tracked, the bats were standing next to them, a one to one ratio of bat to leaguer. They stayed themselves there for just a moment, to watch the army changing at them, before they flipped and flew off, charging back like they weren’t seven kids in spandex running at armed guards numbering in the thousands.

It was another moment of terror induced stupor before the league heard a new voice in their ear.

“Hello,” a voice they knew they knew spoke into their comms, no, not their comms, their minds. The voice was speaking directly into their minds. When none of them jumped at the intrusion they noted they were slightly grateful for J’onn tendency to forget himself and not use words.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Please don’t say anything, just nod your heads.”

They all slowly nodded while glancing around, looking for a body to place the discorporated voice in their minds. Nothing.

“Great,” so the voice saw them, “these aliens have mind controlling powers, but they can only be activated if they hear your voice.”

“So if you speak at all for the remainder of the mission we will be forced to consider you compromised and deal with you accordingly.”

She was terrifyingly calm, some would say almost cheerful, while telling the justice league about how they had to play quiet place during the battle or risk being violently silenced by a colony of bats, because there was no way this voice wasn’t a bat.

“So if any of you don’t think you’ll be able to fighting without your voice please head back to the ship and await instruction.”

No one left.

“Alright then, I’ll patch you through to the rest of them, please standby.”

Noise exploded in their ears, minds? The bats, who they had finally turned their attention back to, were flipping around the battlefield taking out enemies and carrying out near impossible stunts and trick shots and combos. They could be compared to a well oiled machine, if the machine produced murder and quips.

Quips and moves being called out we’re interspersed with calling points, and chirping?

Yup, chirping, they were chirping at each other.

“If you’re just going to stand there can you go ahead and head back to the ship?”

That seemed to snap them out of their daze and into action.

“They’re psychic powers are intense and impressive, but their bodies are frail. Their armour is focused on their chests and heads, they don’t have joints but their limbs are mostly uncovered, their hearts are in the little purple pockets on their backs, where the armour bulges just beneath their heads. The amour is primarily tin so it shouldn’t be hard to get through, avoid the spears though, they’re poison tipped, it shouldn’t affect Martian Manhunter or Wonder Woman but everyone else should be careful, especially…”

She continued rattling off information about their foe and the league finally jumped into action, staying pointedly silent and targeting the points they were told too.

Superman was the first to break.

The battle had been going so well, everyone was working well together and the ability to communicate mentally seemed to curb the need to speak verbally, until Clark got hit with one of those spears and it actually cut him, damn not having a yellow sun here, and he shouted, “OW”. Everyone immediately felt Superman being cut off from the link, so fast some members of the league hadn’t even realised he had spoken.

The more disturbing thing was realising that the line had gone nearly silent, because the chattering bats had gone dead quiet. In the moment it took them to notice the bats had disappeared from the link, Batman, Nightwing, and Robin and snuck up on and incapacitated the man of steel, and he hadn’t noticed.

A little drone flew out to them, strapped superman to it, and flew off back to the bat ship, to be “handled”, whatever the fuck that terrifying word meant.

After that they fell like dominoes, each lasting only a few minutes after the prior hero had fallen.

But the time the army was defeated and a few soldier had been sent back with an official request for diplomacy, written in their language, and the bats were rounding each other up and heading back.

Everyone sitting in various restraints in the bat ship, being carefully looked over by Batwing, was more than a little peeved when they woke up on the ride home. They’re all pretty sure they weren’t mind controlled, that would have meant being conscious long enough to make the connection, so they were rather kissed about being knocked out and restrained.

After they woke up, and answered a battery of questions to Batwing satisfaction, they were released and allowed to roam the ship.

Clark, the first out and first up, went to find Bruce.

“So you brought the kids?” because as irritated as he was, he understood why they did it.

“Of course, I know they can fight silently.”

“And you didn’t trust us?” Clark chanced a smile, trying to show he wasn’t angry.

“Of course not, you’ve never trained to do it, they have, it was a clear cut decision.”

“Yeah… maybe we shouldn’t start running some of those training programs at the watchtower you were talking about.”

“Yes, we should, glad you came around.”

That sat together in a sort of pleasant silence for a minute, before “I’ll bring the kids, they could always use the reminder, and they say the best way to learn is to teach.”

He nodded as he walked off deeper into the ship to find his children and announce their next family trip to the watchtower.

Of the league was fucked.

He heard Red Hood then, in the distance of the ship, “Oh fuck yeah, we’ll show ‘em how to be quiet, right Cass?”

So very very fucked.

I bet the JL has a “how fucked are we” metric that’s literally just how many of Bruce’s kids are there.

Like if he pulls up to the alien invasion or whatever with just Robin, then everything’s fine. More than fine, actually, because Bruce feels comfortable enough to bring his eight year old along for the ride. This battle will take approximately fifteen minutes and they’ll all get shawarma after. Not fucked in the slightest.

But if Red Robin shows up too… hmm, okay, this is getting somewhat serious. Tim is one of Bruce’s most trusted partners; he’s the smart Robin, the tactician, the loyal one, and so if Batman brought him along then it means he’s at least a little bit worried about shit hitting the fan and wants one his advisors around. But the combined brain power of Bruce and Tim is pretty much unmatched (DC plot armor for the win), so everything will be fine, basically. Superman might take a hit, but everything’s going to be fine. Just keep calm and you’ll all make it home in time to Door Dash some Panda Express before it closes. So not that fucked.

It starts to get serious after that. When Signal and Spoiler roll up the scene, shit has definitely hit the fan. Batman’s worried enough to call in reinforcements and he’s probably doubting the League’s ability to listen/obey his orders, so he needs a backup plan in case things go really south. But with Signal’s abilities and Steph’s superpower of turning anything into a joke, chances are you’ll be okay. Maybe impaled or something, but okay. But still, fucked.

When Nightwing shows, the JL knows it’s starting to get dicey out on the field. See, Nightwing’s got his own team, his own issues—the fact that he set that all aside to help out his dad is cause for concern. On a scale from 1-10, they are at a 7. Above moderately fucked.

And… oh God. Black Bat? Most of the time the JL doesn’t even see her, but once she makes herself known and starts fighting alongside her siblings, they all start to silently freak out. Black Bat is a fucking machine and if she’s breaking a sweat trying to fight the Big Bad, things are definitely not going to go well. They start praying that Batman figures something out. They freak out. They are intrinsically fucked.

But God Forbid you catch sight of the Red Hood. The prodigal son is a legitimate killer, and if Batman’s letting him blow out brains then the JL knows he’s desperate. And a desperate Batman is not good. At all. They are definitely fucked.

#sorry this got so long #the plot bunny ran away with me #I just loved it so much thank you #Batfam #Batfam fiction #original writing

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gtgbabie0 · 1 day ago

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{Sevika is a little more sensitive then she lets on and you just love to tease her}

Idk tying her up and eating her out ig?

!!-18//MDNI-!! My Masterlist is here <3

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Sevika was the more dominant one in the relationship, she loved to take control and give— to listen to your breaths become all shaky and to watch your pupils dilate with pure wanton desire because of her because she knew your body like the back of her damn hand, it made her feel a sense of pride, the type she could high on.

And you obviously didn’t complain, not when she was so incredibly attentive to every inch of your body in ways no other person was. In all honesty, you couldn’t even form words to say anything other than her name… over and over and over again.

Your mind would be too focused on the feeling of her strap slowly fucking into your wet cunt, from tip to base, the thickness stretching you out. It was always so mind-numbing, intense— the way her thumbs pushed into the fat of your inner thighs to keep them flushed against the mattress as she thrusts her hips, the bedsheets absolutely soaked.

Sevika got off on watching the way your greedy pussy practically swallowed her cock back in, squelching and gripping around the toy and she swears to death she could feel it. She “fucks you how you deserve” and it never fails to make you see stars— whether it was her fingers, tongue her strap.

And yeah the power trip was pretty dizzying but sometimes Sevika just loved to let her guard down and let you take the reins. I mean a girl likes to be wined and dined… and eaten out every so often, right?

She just wasn’t used to all this pampering you showered her with, it was a foreign concept one that she thought she didn’t really deserve— then you go and prove her wrong with that adoring glint in your eyes and a gentle hand against her cheek. “No baby, you deserve all of it. let me love you.” The words are whispered so gently that it makes her chest flutter and suddenly she doesn’t feel like a big tough criminal, no, just a woman madly, madly in love.

And god did you make her feel like the only woman in the world when you kiss your way down her body, hands caressing over the curves over her body, shedding her clothes until you’ve got your pretty face in between her thick thighs— making her head spin as pleasure takes over every thought that plagues her overworked mind.

“Your mouth is fuckin’ sin, baby.” She practically whines, all breathless, hips writhing against the bed— she can’t touch you, because somehow you’ve managed to convince her to let you tie her up with those red ropes… it was killing her but fuck if she didn’t look absolutely stunning.

You moan against her soaked cunt in acknowledgement, spreading her folds open with your tongue as you slowly lick along her labia and up to her clit, which you pepper with slow opened-mouth kisses— her hips bucking up into your mouth, desperate for more.

“Sev… don’t make me tie your hips down too.” You tut, pulling away to look up at her with a small frown— which causes her to whimper in disappointment—your lips and chin glistening with her desire.

The sound of her frustrated huffs puts a smirk on your face, watching as her head falls back against the pillows with a groan as you press your face back into her wet heat.

Her wrists, both metal and flesh, were bound against the headboard by the rough fabric that was far more durable than they looked— she’s tried to free herself multiple times, to bury her fingers in your hair and fuck your face but it was useless, she was at your mercy and in all honesty she loved it.

“Fucking hell— please baby, please” She pleads, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as you press your tongue flat against her clit, licking at her in a way that makes her body twitch.

It wasn’t like you’d been teasing her for hours, you literally not long slipped her boxers off and yet she was acting like you’d been edging her for the last five hours… and you absolutely loved it, knowing that the only thing on her mind was you and your mouth.

“Mm… you want my fingers, yeah?” You coo softly, looking up at her through your eyelashes to gauge her reaction as you continue to lick at her clit.

God she did, all she could get out was a messy string of “Fuck, yeah baby, please.” blabbering on and on, all whiny and desperate— it was a sight to see, the Sevika the most feared woman in Zaun in all her glory spread out on your bed, tied up, whining and moaning just for you.

Then you’re plunging your middle and ring fingers into her slick cunt, thrusting them in tandem with your tongue on her clit— your free hand rubbing over her thigh and along the shape of her writhing hips. The way she moans out your name shoots a tingle down your spine, a familiar throb of need between your legs has you grinding down against the mattress needily.

Sevika is so sensitive, it doesn’t take you much to turn her on and right now she’s soaking your hand— her walls clenching around your digits as she struggles against the ropes binding her wrists, head thrown back against the pillows, arching into you, practically panting.

“So beautiful Sev with my fingers stuffed in your pussy, so greedy.” You smirk against her, adding your index into her just to prove your point, stretching her out, and the rough, broken moan that escapes her parted lips causes a surge of pride to buzz through your chest.

“Don’t hold back baby, you deserve it.” Whispered hotly against her clit as she follows the slow and meticulous curl of your fingers— practically grinding her pussy against your mouth until she’s gushing around your three fingers, drenching your palm whilst your tongue works against her clit.

You work her through it until she’s lying boneless against the pillows with laboured breaths— completely and utterly spent, shuddering slightly as you pull your digits out.

Sevika watches you press a kiss to her inner thigh, then another to her hip— her eyes never leaving you as you kiss your way back up along her body, straddling her lower abdomen as you lick your fingers clean and she can feel how drenched your panties have become, that gets to her and suddenly she's turned on all again.

“Feeling good?” You ask with such sweetness in your tone as if you hadn't just fingered her, leaning over slightly to undo the ropes around her wrists— she chuckles hoarsely in response.

Her hands immediately grasp your hips, feeling up the curves of your soft body greedily— the roughness of her palm sets a blaze to your skin which is cooled down by the metal of her other, all of it makes your spine tingle with need. “Mm, your turn baby.” She smirks, fingers curling around your jaw as she pulls you down against her, your chest pressed to her own. Her heart flutters at the giggle you let out, sweet like honey as she kisses you sloppily, tasting herself on your lips, before pushing you back against the mattress ready to return the favour tenfold…

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p1astr81 · 2 days ago

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second chances

in which: Lando tries to get his ex girlfriend back.

pairing: Lando Norris x pop star!fem!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: cursing

an: this is part 2 of “second place”, but I think it could also make sense as a stand-alone.

part 1

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Performing with the wound of a breakup fresh in your heart was difficult, but the roaring crowds and their endless support made it a little easier.

You just finished up yet another show, the twelfth one since you’d broken off things with Lando three weeks ago. Kiké—knowing how hard the breakup was for you—walked in silence next to you and you navigated the backstage area. He simply offered his presence, which was a mild—but much appreciated—comfort to you.

Your eyes were trained on the way the dim lights made your boots sparkle. The last song on the setlist was the most emotional for you. A love song written for Lando. You nearly cried while singing it, and were struggling to keep it together even now.

Kiké only left your side once you reached the door of your dressing room. “Can you travel on the bus with me again?” You asked him softly. Between the last city and this one, Kiké joined you on your tour bus. Usually, he’d fly between locations with the other dancers, but he was more then happy to spend time with you.

He nodded. “Absolutely. We have to finish our show.” He joked, getting a smile out of you.

You bade him goodbye, and stepping into your dressing room. As soon as the door was closed, you let the tears fall, letting the door support your weight as you tried to not crumple to the floor.

A soft call of your name broke through the sounds of your sobs. You gasped, straightening up and reaching for the door handle. Your flight response automatically ceased when your gaze met Lando’s.

Your eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be in Spain?” The tone of your voice was venomous, but he chose not to take offense to it.

“Yes, but I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed at that. “Who even let you in here?”

“Your security. I assume you haven’t told them?” You didn’t answer his inquiry, but that was answer enough.

“Look, I know I treated you like shit and I was never here for you, but I want to be.” A little late for that, you wanted to say. But you settled for a roll of your eyes. “And these past weeks have made me realize that life without you sucks.”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips ass you pushed off the door. You wandered over to your desk, and began taking your makeup off. Lando, left in silence and without a response, continued to sit quietly on the couch.

You glanced at him through he mirror. He was fumbling around with his fingers. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to take you back.”

Lando met your eyes through the reflection. “I know. But I really do mean it. Even if we’re just friends, that’s enough for me.” The fact you hadn’t told him to fuck off yet was honestly a step in the right direction for him.

Your eyes found the cotton pad more interesting than him. “I don’t know. You made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of your time. You can’t just fix that with a sorry.”

He stood from his spot on the couch and cautiously stepped to your side. “I’ll be better. Every show I can squeeze into my schedule, I’ll be there.” He nodded.

Having missed the feel of your skin on his, he wanted to reach out, place a hand on your shoulder, or your arm. But he refrained from doing so.

Considering his proposition, you bit your lip. “You said that before, Lan.” You muttered. He heard the disappointment in your voice and wanted to curse himself out for it.

He nodded. “And I regret not following through but I promise this time. And if I don’t honor it, that’s it. I’ll never bother you again.”

It was a terrible idea. You knew it was. Opening your heart up to him again, giving him all the power to tear it in two once more, it was risky. But with a sigh, you accepted. “One slip up, Norris, and I’m blacklisting you from my shows.” You joked.

———

In the coming weeks, Lando honored his promise to its fullest extent, and then some. Even the shows you didn’t expect him to be at—the ones that fell on a Sunday night, only a few hours after a race—he was there.

He’d even spend a couple hours after the shows with you in your tour bus before he inevitably needed to catch a flight.

So after a month of him showing up consistently, and proving himself, you finally gave into him.

It was after one of your shows, you were sat in the tour bus as it stood stationary. The both of you were planted on the couch, your legs across Lando’s lap. You’d been talking for the last hour and a half about seemingly nothing. And then you licked your lips, and bit your lip softly before calling his name. He looked to you with big brown eyes like a little doe. “I think you’ve proved that you’ve changed.” Lando’s brows raised, hopeful. “And… if you’d still want to-“

“Yes.” He replied without even letting you finish. “Sorry.” His gaze shifted to his hands which sat on your bare legs. His cheeks went red. “Continue.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I think you got the point.” You sifted in your seat, and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris #lando norris fluff #ln4 #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you

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star2fishmeg · 2 days ago

Note

more inexperienced reader x lh pls🥺🥺 sfw or nsfw

Clothes are piled on his bedroom floor, only with the low light of the lamps and you sit opposite each other on the bed. His fingers wrap around your wrists tenderly, slowly prying your arms away from your body. Your head turns and you stare at the wall rather than his soft gaze that scans along your figure adoringly. Luke means it when he says that he loves you anyway, no matter what, and how your body looks won't change that, it wasn't the reason he fell in love with you.

"Baby, look at me." He says quietly, voice soft and you do, hesitantly. "I think you're beautiful, okay? Nothin' to be afraid of. I just want you to be comfortable, we can put our clothes back on and do this another day if-"

"-No. I'm comfortable, I wanna do this. I've just never been naked in front of a guy before, like, you look great, I mean, I'm just lucky that someone who looks like me pulled someone like you. I just don't want to disappoint you."

Luke's eyebrows raise and pull together, releasing your wrists, and he leans towards you. Butterflies swarm in your stomach but your arms stay away from your body, regardless of how loud your head wants you to cover yourself again. You can't decipher his expression or his actions, and the only thing you can do is lean back into the pillows, letting him straddle over you, his lips meeting the space between your collarbones as if you're made of glass. The little kiss is soft and triggers a chain reaction of sweet kisses over your breasts, his lashes brushing against your skin with every peck over the plush mounds.

"Pretty tits, soft like pillows. Could sleep on them all the time." He murmurs, goosebumps running down his neck when your fingers tangle in his curls.

He continues down your sternum, kisses becoming more weighted and wet as they cascade over your stomach, hands gliding along your waist soothingly. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him with keen eyes and with every kiss your heart beats just that little bit faster and your cheeks flush warmer. Luke wants to show you that he loves you, it's something he's been adamant about doing from the start and seeing him go that extra mile to ensure your mind can rest has you drawing your thigh up and rubbing the back of his thigh with your foot.

"So fuckin' beautiful, y/n." He moves further down, his final kiss to your upper pussy area before sliding back on the bed, cautiously peering up at you with wet, puppy dog eyes, your fingers still in his hair and you think you've dreamt about something like this before, him between your legs. "Fuck, could suffocate between these and I'd be happy. You still okay? Want me to stop? Just say so, angel, don't wanna freak you out."

He's not going to engage in anything, not tonight. It's too soon and you've only just shown him your body, but he still checks in for security. Your thigh is still elevated but the foot that once caressed his leg is hooked around his back, his arm wrapped underneath it so his hand holds your thigh over his shoulder and to his ear. For someone so comparatively strong against you, the way his thumb rubbed your skin's tender, his eyes soft.

"I'm okay, this is okay. Please, don't stop."

You smile and he repeats sweet nothings, confessions on how he thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, how you're the one, his person, how you fit his frame perfectly, all while he's pressing his lips to your thighs, alternating between the left and right with teeth grazing, flushing sparks through your nerves that only he can make you feel. His words rush to your head and embrace your self-esteem, the kisses making heat pool into your lower stomach but before your body can react further, Luke's hovering back over you, his familiar crooked grin blessing your vision.

Your palms cup his cheeks, and he rolls you both over so you're lying on his chest, your hands sliding onto his chest and his strong arms holding your waist. The world is quiet. Your head is finally quiet, and your heartbeat slows to fall into sync with his.

"This feels nice," he says softly, grinning at how your chest squishes against his, one hand gliding over your back in slow circles, occasionally cupping your ass and giggling with you, "and you have a nice ass, think it belongs on my lap."

Luke holds you tighter, feeling you smile against his chest, and he knows you're okay now and you are. You're better than how you started and no longer afraid of him seeing you naked, he kept his word and now he refuses to let go, wanting to savour the moment where you and he are skin to skin in the purest form.

#≡lh43 #≡lh!inexperienced #luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader

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miwiheroes · 2 days ago

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Mike Wheeler and his Promise

"It means something that you can't break. Ever."

A huge part of Mike Wheeler's hidden character arc is set up in season 1, episode 2 with this scene right here. It's pretty much the motivation behind many of his actions towards El and Will, can be a partial explanation for his internalised homophobia and explains why he seems like to have a saviour complex.

Narratively, promises are made to be broken. When writers decide to make a promise 'important' and emphasise that this promise cannot be broken, ever, it will always come back to bite that character in the ass. Promises are either made to be broken in stories like these, or they are made to make a character feel trapped. Promises are rarely ever used in a romantic fashion unless the character cannot keep their promise or they feel like they are forced to.

What makes it really seem like Mike and El are a doomed couple to me is that the writers chose Mike to say: Ever.

No word is misplaced in writing a script. There is no such thing as an unintentional line in Stranger Things tbh, and this word in particular means two things:

Mike will always keep his promises throughout time.

Mike will keep his promises no matter if circumstances change, no matter if his feelings change.

There is no reason for this line to be in there other than to foreshadow the fact that Mike will eventually have to eat the words from his naive 12-year-old self. He will eventually regret promising something, but he'll feel like he can't go back. Ever.

The domino effect Promise begins:

*Smiling* "And we can go to the Snow Ball."

*Smiling* "Promise?"

*No longer smiling* "Promise."

This promise was made in order to foreshadow that it doesn't come true right? Because that is often what happens to promises narratively, and of course, it can't come to be because they get separated and Mike thinks she's died.

But.... the promise does come true.

So instead, this promise was made, narratively, to trap Mike. While this seems harsh of course, this young Mike has no idea that what he has just promised to himself is not only to go to the Snow Ball with El (which was a promise made to comfort her here, to make her feel like she will survive). He doesn't necessarily seem happy about making this promise. He seems more... indifferent. Knowing that this is something he just has to do.

Yeah, because this is definitely the actors' expressions and lighting and scenery you want for a first kiss, right?

So not only has Mike promised to go to the Snow Ball with her, he has also promised to save her, he has promised to be with her. And he can't break this promise, ever.

Even when his feelings change:

The writers separated Mike and El and put Mike with Will in season 2 for a reason. They used it to build up a good development of Mike and Will's dynamic of course, but it was also to change Mike's feelings.

It eventually becomes apparent to the viewer that Mike has resigned himself to not finding El. In season 2 episode 2, the last time we see Mike on the walkie, he walks away. Music swells and El looks onwards. Instead of looking happy, she seems disappointed that her bond with Mike is not as strong as she thought.

Mike, after his talk with Will in the same room, has begun to give up.

And over time, he figures out that maybe... maybe finding and choosing to Will's friend is the best thing he's ever done instead. Once he figures this out, he cries, he's not loud, he's not angry. But it's at least the thing to bring Will's message forward.

Then El comes back, and Mike feels like a liar.

I've never really figured out why Mike shouts 'LIAR!' many times towards Hopper when he's clearly projecting as he starts to cry. Until now. It's the guilt that he didn't keep his promise. The promise he had made back when El had almost died, back when El had clearly thought promises could never be broken. EVER. Even when feelings change.

Of course he'd felt pissed at Hopper. Hopper was the one to keep El safe, not Mike, which is not the thing he had promised.

When El returns, Mike says:

"I never stopped looking for you."

Woops, Michael, that's a bald-faced lie, and you know it. But he also knows what a promise is, something that can't ever be broken.

Mike is now committed into this relationship. He's ready to keep El as his girlfriend for many reasons, but the next commitments he makes (i.e. saying 'I love you') are not intentional.

In season 3:

Saying 'I love her' happens on accident, she's never meant to hear. The next time he's asked about it, he fumbles and wants to deny ever saying it. But when El says it back, he realises... oh shit. I really am in this now. I can't escape, even though I know my feelings are different.

In the famous words of Hopper. "I don't want things to change." "[I want] to go back to how [we] were."

Throughout summer, before the Mindflayer, his relationship with El was easy, it was fine. He could deal with this because he can still go to movie theatres with Will and his friends and El can't go out in public. His relationship isn't real, and the fights they have are just 'silly, stupid fights'.

But then she says she loves him too and now what? He realises this is real, he can't go back on what he's said again. Because no matter what, a promise can't be broken.

Now:

He has to reject childish things and pretend to be 'normal' (but only around El).

He has to keep away from Will, who has the potential to break his promise to El forever.

He still can't say 'I love you' because of this great big commitment, this potential for change, and El clocks him, despite his best efforts to keep up the same relationship he was trying to have in season 3.

When he no longer has the threat of this great big PROMISE looming over him, when he feels that El has no broken up with him through that note signed 'From, El', he now suddenly has the ability to act close to Will. When he's confident that El's safe and that they just need to get back to Hawkins, he's able to express how he really feels.

He can finally, finally work with Will without feeling guilty.

That is, until El's in danger again. Until Argyle reminds him of the ramifications of his girlfriend being missing, reminding him of the promise that he's always made.

That's when this intimacy with Will suddenly feels taboo again:

The next time he needs to make a commitment towards her, it's through pressure. The bottom line is, Mike likes being a hero, he wants to be a saviour, but he was never ready for it to feel like this.

When Will reminds him that he's the heart of the Party in Surfer Boy Pizza, he believes that it could never be Will that needs him, but that Will's telling him that it really is El that still needs him. And that she always will.

So he holds her hand, exactly like he did back in season one, and makes his Promise again, this time, knowing that he's trapping himself.

Now, instead of a naive kid, he's a teenager, he's changed, despite not wanting to. He's resigning himself to a life without truly being able to express his feelings. He's not just some kid going to the Snow Ball with a girl that he cares about, he's promising to love her, knowing he's trapped himself in this promise again.

After all, he's already promised to save her, and if he thinks saying 'I love you' will save her, he's gotta do it no matter his true feelings right?

In season 5, someone, someone needs to tell this poor boy that he does not need to keep his promise. El needs to tell him about her growth, what she has learned from her time at the lab---that is, that she does not need Mike to love her, which she seems to have understood. She has already accepted that her lover won't arrive at the train station.

And Mike should realise that saying 'I love you' did not in fact save El. It was the reminder to fight, that Max is in trouble, that there are more important things, bigger than their relationship, that allowed her to escape the vines.

So when Mike hears that he no needs to keep up this promise, that he no longer has to hate himself for being a 'liar' to someone he cares so much about, that he can open himself up to happiness and understanding again, he'll probably feel pretty complete.

What do you think?

#byler #byler endgame #byler nation #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #stranger things 5 #byler evidence #byler proof #byler analysis #mileven is bones #anti mileven

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spanktony · 21 hours ago

Text

“I’LL DO ANYTHING.” - anora.

summary: when you snap at anora, she leaves your place pissed, and you come back begging to make things right.

words: 2.3k +

warnings: 18+, fem!reader, oral (a receiving), fingering (a receiving), begging, ani calls u a good girl, reader is a meanie for a bit then turns to a lil bitch, this is bad, and yeah let me know if there’s more.

navigation. request.

tired would be an understatement of how you felt right now. your head pounded, each beat following up with a sigh from your boss's mouth, reminding you of the looming deadline for the project that still needed to be completed.

so, here you were on a call at 9:48 in the morning, on a day you were supposed to be off, with three other colleagues discussing the next steps for the project.

you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled deep in your bones. you sat at your desk, a few feet away from anora's side of the bed, which made it harder to resist the temptation to crawl back under the covers and ignore the world for a little while longer. but you knew better. you couldn't afford to.

literally.

your phone buzzed on the desk, shifting your attention from one screen to the other. oh shit. the driver. you had planned a low-key day with anora—just the two of you—but now it seemed like that might have to wait.

your stomach sank as you glanced at the message: i'm here. do you want me to grab anything for you two?

you quickly typed back: no, that's fine. you can come inside and wait. i'm in a meeting; it shouldn't take too long.

hopefully…

you hoped anora wouldn't be too disappointed with the change of plans. the message sent, and you set your phone down again, the screen lighting up, showing the call you've been on for... three ongoing hours?!

behind you, anora stirred, waking up from her deep sleep. "good morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

you turned slightly, offering a tired smile as you double-checked to make sure you were still muted on your work call. "good morning, babe. sleep well?"

"mmm-hmm," she hummed, stretching. you heard the soft crack of her spine as she reached her arms over her head, a sound that made your heart swell a little. she padded across the hardwood floor with that familiar grace, her feet quiet but sure.

you could feel her before you saw her, like a magnet drawing you in. then she was there, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on your neck. it made your skin tingle, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been up for hours, haven't you?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"i have to finish this report," you murmured, half-distracted.

but anora wasn't deterred. her lips trailed to your jawline and then to your cheek, playful and persistent.

"ani," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "i'm on a call."

she ignored your plea, her hands sliding over your shoulders as she planted another kiss on your temple.

"ani, seriously," you hissed, though a hint of laughter betrayed you.

"what? i'm just showing my hardworking girlfriend some love," she teased, grinning against your skin. it was sweet; it really was. but your boss's voice in your ear reminded you of the pressing deadline, and her teasing felt like too much in the moment.

"anora, stop!" you snapped, louder than intended.

her hands froze, and the warmth that had been cocooning you suddenly vanished. you heard her inhale sharply, and when she stepped back, it was like a cold breeze had replaced her presence.

"what the hell?" she asked with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, still in the same position, looking hurt and confused. you felt your stomach twist. "i—" you started, but the words got tangled.

"i'm sorry for trying to spend time with you," she said, her voice raising in pitch before she swallowed hard. "god forbid i... i don't know, make you feel appreciated or something."

"i'm just trying to work, anora! i have deadlines, responsibilities—"

"and i'm a distraction, right?" she shot back, "just a little nuisance in your way?"

you opened your mouth to apologize, to explain, but she was already moving, grabbing her overnight bag from the floor and shoving her things inside haphazardly. it was like a fire was spreading through the room with how quickly she was packing up to leave.

"ani," you called out, your voice more desperate now. "please, wait. don't go."

but she ignored you, shoulders tense and eyes avoiding yours as she zipped up her bag. you heard the soft thud of her bag slung over her shoulder, and before you could say another word, she was at the door.

"y/n? are you here?" your boss's voice reminding you of the meeting you were supposed to be in right now. you looked at your phone, then the door your girlfriend had just rushed out of. sighing heavily, you unmuted your phone and replied, "yes, i'm here."

the hours that followed felt like eternity. the empty apartment was so quiet, so still, that it almost felt suffocating. by the time night fell, you couldn't bear it anymore. you gathered a few things—her favorite snacks, the earrings she had been eyeing for weeks but never bought, and a small bouquet of flowers you'd picked up on a whim.

your driver pulled up to her old place, her place that she rarely stayed at anymore because she was always at your apartment. she had even given you a spare copy of her key so you could move her things to your place when she was busy.

you opened the door and found the living room empty, thankful her roommate wasn't home. you knocked on her bedroom door, calling out her name softly.

the door creaked open, and there she was. anora's head peeked out from behind the door, her eyebrows furrowing both in anger and confusion, as she clearly wasn't expecting you. she was still in the clothes she'd left in, her hair slightly disheveled.

"what are you doing here?" she asked, opening her door slightly further to get a better look at you.

"i... i came to apologize," you said quickly, holding out the flowers like a shield. she eyed them, unimpressed.

"anora, please. i was an idiot. i shouldn't have snapped at you. you were just being sweet, and i let my stress get the better of me." she leaned against the doorframe, silent, her gaze piercing.

"i brought your favorite snacks," you added, holding up the bag. "and earrings. i even... i don't know, i just..."

you trailed off, realizing how desperate you sounded. but you didn't care. "please," you said softly. "i miss you. i miss us. i'll do anything to make it right."

anora sighed, stepping aside to let you in. you stepped inside her room, slowly closing the door behind you, watching as she stood a couple of feet in front of her bed. the tension in the air was thick as you set the flowers and bag on the nightstand beside you.

her expression softened, just a fraction. "anything?"

"anything," you promised, stepping closer, inches away from her.

"you really hurt my feelings," she said finally, a hand coming to cup your cheek, and you stumbled even closer to her, your lips ghosting hers.

you looked so fucking adorable in that moment, with that vulnerable, almost lost look on your face. like a kicked puppy—those sad, pleading eyes. you looked so damn cute, but she wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily.

her thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. "you said anything, right?"

you nodded quickly, your hand wrapping around her forearm, and her heart skipped a beat. the way you held her arm, like you couldn't stand the distance between you two, made her lips twitch upward.

there was something in the way you looked at her now, something so earnest, so full of regret, that made her resolve waver just slightly. her eyes darted to your lips, feeling the heat between you both rise. god, you were so close, and she was fighting every instinct that told her to pull you in. to kiss you like she wanted to, to let you wrap her in your arms, to hold her.

her gaze flitted up, catching yours.

"anything," you repeated again, barely a whisper.

"get on your knees," she whispered. without hesitating, you lowered yourself in front of her, her hand running a hand through your hair. you stared up at her, waiting.

"beg."

"please," you said, the frustration clear in your voice.

"please what?"

"please forgive me, ani. i shouldn't have snapped at you."

"no, you shouldn't have. you didn't mean it, did you?"

you shook your head.

"that's right. because you wouldn't dare treat me like that. right, baby?" you nodded again, your hands finding their way to her thighs, gripping them tightly. anora's hands left your hair and cupped your face gently. "good girl," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

you licked your lips when your girlfriend began pulling her shorts down, revealing her bare skin inch by inch. she watched you the whole time, smiling, that smile that made your heart race with anticipation.

you leaned in, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she hummed. it was a gentle kiss, the kind that she needed after the day she had today, and it sent a wave of pleasure through her.

"such a good girl," she whispered, and your lips trailed higher, pressing against the clothed heat between her legs. she let out a soft moan, her hands finding your hair again to stop her legs from trembling.

you pressed a lingering kiss to the spot before pulling back, your gaze meeting hers. anora's eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, and she looked so gorgeous; what kind of an idiot would raise their voice at her? oh, that's right... you did.

"ani," you murmured, looking up at her, pleading.

"i forgive you, baby," she breathed, pulling her underwear to the side, revealing her glistening pussy. you could see the desire in her eyes as she guided you closer, silently inviting you to continue. with a soft smile, you leaned in to fulfill her unspoken request, eager to make things right between you.

you kissed her again, harder this time, your tongue slipping between her folds, tasting her sweetness as she moaned softly in response. you kept going, your tongue circling her clit slowly, teasingly. you couldn't help yourself, not when she was this wet and not when you owed it to her.

her grip tightened on your hair, and you moaned against her, sending a shockwave through her body. you looked up at her once more, taking in the sight of her, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took.

"more," she whispered, her hips rocking forward, covering your chin with her slick wetness. you obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your hands digging in the back of her thighs, trying to pull her even closer to you.

you continued like this, listening to her soft moans and pleas until she was close. she tugged on your hair, trying to pull you away.

"wait," she gasped, "not yet."

you pulled back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "did i do something wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"no," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, her hands still tangled in your hair. "it's just been a while, and i want your fingers." you smiled like an idiot, rising off your knees to kiss her for the first time that night.

her lips were soft, pliant, and you savored the taste of her on your tongue. "fuck, i missed you," you mumbled, her lips parting to let out a soft chuckle, falling against the bed with you in a tangle of limbs.

"me too, baby. now be good and finish what you started." you nodded eagerly, sliding a hand up under her shirt, your fingers grazing her skin until you reached her chest, cupping her breast in your hand, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

"i'll make you feel so good," you whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck as she arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. "hurry," she urged, her voice breathless.

you slid your hand back down her body, tracing the outline of her curves before finally reaching your destination, sliding your middle finger into her pussy and feeling her wetness enveloping you. she gasped at the sensation, her hips instinctively moving against your hand as she whispered, "don't stop."

her head fell back, her fingers gripping the sheets when you added another finger, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your eyes locked on her flushed face, the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell open as she let out a moan, her back arching against the mattress.

you continued like this for a few minutes, watching her writhe underneath you, her hips rolling against your fingers. her moans were music to your ears, and the sight of her like this was enough to make you let out a low growl of satisfaction.

her breathing was labored, her hips bucking wildly, and you knew she was close. extremely close. her body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that they were shaking, and her moans became louder and more desperate. you kept going, not letting up, ignoring the ache in your own hand.

"come for me, ani," you said softly, curling your fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drove her crazy. her moans grew louder, and her body stiffened, and then she finally reached her peak, letting out a loud cry of pleasure. "yes, fuck!"

you felt her walls clench around your fingers, pulsing with the force of her release. her head fell back against the pillow, and her body went limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

you watched her, mesmerized, not wanting to take your eyes off her for even a second.

you finally pulled out your fingers, bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them, tasting her sweet juices. her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you, her expression softening.

"what candy did you buy?"

#spanktony #tonyspank #anora movie #anora 2024 #anora #anora x reader #anora smut #anora x fem!reader #anora x you #anora x y/n #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison smut #mikey madison x you

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juyeoz · 3 days ago

Text

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

018 ┆ what the fuck (0.3k words)

Heeseung slipped his phone away into his pocket, gaining Jungwon’s attention.

“You didn’t tell them, right?” He asked, voice wary.

“No.” Heeseung simply said.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Heeseung sighed. “That you were fine and things were quite hectic since you woke up only recently.”

A wave of relief washed over Jungwon’s figure.

“You said you were fine. You weren’t fine, were you? Did the pain in your leg become too much?” Heeseung questioned, but Jungwon only stiffened in response.

After a brief moment of silence, Jungwon shook his head at Heeseung’s first question. He stared at his injured leg. The one that was engulfed by a cast.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you guys.” He replied in a weak tone. Heeseung’s brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Are you crazy? You wouldn’t disappoint us. The whole team looks up to you, Jungwon, more than they do with me and I’m the captain.”

Jungwon let out a light chuckle from Heeseung’s emphasis. Although his leg was embraced by the cast he would have to wear for the next 2 weeks, Heeseung always seemed to find a way to make Jungwon a happy being.

“Seriously though, your health matters. If you were already experiencing pain or an illness before, you should’ve told us.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think my leg pain would progress further. The fainting part though… I don’t know what happened. I began breathing heavily and my vision started blurring out of nowhere mid match. It might’ve been tied with me overworking myself on my pained leg.”

“Probably. Just promise me you won’t do it again, okay? I don’t want the team to be led by a captain who can’t manage himself properly next year.” Heeseung teased as Jungwon hit his arm.

“But seriously, promise me, Jungwon.” Heeseung said, staring at Jungwon with a slight gleam in his eyes.

“Alright alright, I promise.”

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @samyria @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili

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morbethgames · 2 days ago

Text

The Recoding of The Bureau is Finished

I’m done recoding the game. All in all, it was honestly about what I expected to be slimmed off once I got a good look at some of the scenes. As I expected, 90% of that were from the first 3 chapters. I am a mix of emotions after arduously spending hours upon hours replacing gender variables one at a time by hand. Which unfortunately, I couldn’t think of another way for doing it, because all of the characters were using the same gender variables instead of independent ones for each character.

I’m relieved it’s done. Disappointed in myself that I had to do it at all. Irritated that some people decided to put the game on blast for it rather than give actionable suggestions on how to fix it. Excited to finally be able to continue writing both the extra scenes that need to be written and the main story. I honestly don’t know which one I’m going to continue with first.

Please leave feedback.

There are still no doubt one or two spots with maybe 1-2k words each that could be slimmed down, but that would require a lot of work for very little payoff. So yes, I’m comfortable saying, the game is almost 400k words long in total. 85k words per playthrough. That’s not including the extra scenes in the stats screen, because randomtest doesn’t go in the stats screen (to my knowledge at least, someone can correct me if I’m wrong). So you still have to play the game roughly 5 times and choose different choices to see everything it has to offer.

Is the game smaller? A bit, yeah. Is it 100-150k? It’s more than double that.

Now, that doesn’t say anything for the state of some of the writing. If I have to read someone nodding, or smiling, or ‘slightly’, ‘a bit’, or ‘a little’ something in my own work again, I’m gonna jump out a window. Obviously, back when I started writing this, I was very much influenced by Wayhaven. I’ve since grown out of that idea. Since the game has taken on an identity of its own, and while I will forever be grateful to that series and continue to support it, there’s gonna be some changes in the final version of this game. Less of what I said above, less ellipses, and the flirting (especially in the beginning) will seem much more down to earth and believable for the setting it’s in, with a bit of wiggle room since this is still very much a YA game.

Please leave feedback.

The rewrite will not be happening until the first draft of the game is fully finished. I refuse to get stuck in a rewrite phase, mostly because I would just find it way too boring.

My patreon will continue to have static fiction on it, as well as sneak peeks into upcoming stuff. In case you’ve been missing it, Love In Stasis is up to Chapter 6 at this point, with more to come. I’m also thinking about potentially starting a horror static fiction.

I’ll be relying on people to playtest this new version of the game to tell me about any continuity errors, and gender errors, any anything errors. So please, play the demo. Let me know if you notice anything. I think if I’ve proved anything at this point, it’s that I act and fix things based on feedback.

And pettiness.

But mostly feedback.

Please leave feedback.

Last thing I’ll say; I’m gonna stop saying I’m bad at coding. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to implement the text boxes and fine tune them. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to code Golden Eyes. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to slim down the game that much from where it was. So it’s time I give myself the credit of someone who at least knows what they’re doing. I’m not adept at it, but I’m certainly not bad at it either.

I’m still expecting the game to end up over 500k words when all is said and done. It will not be one million words, but I’m actually kind of happy about that. This is proof I’m still working on this game, and the next time it updates, it will have new content. Thanks for those that are patient and stick around, your support does still genuinely mean a lot.

Please leave feedback.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

P.S. Please leave feedback.

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

#interactive fiction #the bureau #writing #interactive novel #wip #work in progress #original story #choicescript #reading #books and reading #murder mystery #mystery #indiedev #indie author #indie game #romance

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kiwriteswords · 3 days ago

Note

LEts see a hallmark-y meet cute Hotch and Readr christmas drabble

Let your heart be light [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1.3k||

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Hotch feeling like a bad parent, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Actual tooth-rotting Fluff, Stranded at the airport, alcohol tw, possibly ooc for Hotch at the end but I wanted to add fluff.

Sypnosis: Amid a holiday snowstorm, Aaron Hotchner and a fellow stranded traveler, you, find unexpected camaraderie at an airport bar

The bustling atmosphere of the commercial airport was the last place Aaron Hotchner wanted to find himself, especially so close to the holidays. The snowstorm outside raged with a fury, mirroring the frustration bubbling within him and his team. Flights were canceled left and right--starting with the private jet, announcements blaring over the loudspeakers only added to the cacophony, and families and travelers alike were stranded—much like the BAU.

Rossi, ever the optimist or perhaps just desperate for a distraction, led the way through the crowded terminals. “If we’re going to be stuck with the general population, we might as well live it up,” he declared, guiding the team—JJ, Emily, Derek, Spencer, and a reluctant Hotch—toward the airport bar.

The bar was a loud, colorful oasis amid the sea of frustrated passengers. The team found a corner where they could at least hear each other over the din. Hotch sat with them, his mind a thousand miles away with Jack, hoping he wouldn’t be too disappointed if Daddy missed Christmas morning.

“You look like someone stole your last cookie, Hotch,” Derek teased, nudging him slightly with his elbow.

Hotch managed a tight-lipped smile. “Just thinking about Jack,” he admitted, scanning the room distractedly. That’s when he noticed you. You were sitting alone at the bar, your posture relaxed despite the chaos, sipping on a drink and occasionally glancing at your phone.

Unexpectedly, a bartender approached him with a glass, setting it down in front of him. “Compliments of the lady over at the bar,” the bartender said, nodding in your direction.

Hotch’s eyes widened slightly, following the bartender’s gesture back to you. The team had noticed the exchange too, their teasing grins growing wider.

“She’s beautiful, Hotch. And it looks like she thinks you could use some company,” Emily commented, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You should go say hi,” JJ added, her voice warm and encouraging.

Hotch hesitated, his usual reservations about such situations wrestling with the unexpected kindness you’d shown. “She probably just feels sorry for the lonely guy in a suit,” he muttered.

“Or maybe she recognizes a handsome man when she sees one. Go on, Aaron,” Rossi pushed, not letting Hotch’s self-doubt win.

With a deep breath, Hotch stood and made his way over to you. He could feel the eyes of his team on his back, their whispers barely masked by their attempts to not make it obvious they were watching.

As he approached, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. “Hi,” he started, feeling unusually out of his element. “I wanted to thank you for the drink.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made the corners of your eyes crinkle slightly. “You looked more down and out than me, so I figured you could use it more,” you replied, your tone light and friendly.

Hotch chuckled softly, the sound more relaxed than he felt. “That’s very kind of you. Are you also stranded?”

“Yeah, was heading home for Christmas, but it looks like I’m spending it with airport cocktails instead,” you said, gesturing to the chaos outside the window where snow continued to blanket the runway.

“What about you? Any plans ruined by this storm?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, inviting him to share more.

Hotch took a sip of the drink you’d sent him, finding comfort in the simple act. “Trying to get home to my son. He’s expecting Santa and his dad, not necessarily in that order.”

Your expression softened. “He’s lucky to have a dad rushing to get back to him. I’m sure he’ll understand, though. Sometimes things are out of our control.”

Hotch nodded, feeling the truth in your words. He glanced back at the bar where his team was pretending not to watch them. “My team seems to think I should thank you more properly for the drink. They’re... supportive like that.”

Laughing, you glanced over his shoulder at the group waving subtly. “They seem like a good bunch. How about we join forces and make the best of this holiday delay?” you suggested with a playful grin.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile back, feeling an unexpected ease in your company. “That sounds like a plan,” he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of relief.

Together, you walked over to the bar where the team eagerly made space for both of you. Rossi, always quick to turn a stranger into a friend, raised his glass in a welcoming toast. "To unexpected Christmas companions!"

The evening rolled on with laughter and stories exchanged over rounds of drinks. Hotch found himself increasingly drawn to your sense of humor and the easy way you interacted with his team. You shared tales of your own holiday mishaps from previous years, each story more engaging than the last. Hotch reciprocated with anecdotes of his own, each glimpse into his life making you laugh and lean in closer.

As the night deepened and the crowd thinned, you and Hotch found yourselves lingering at the bar long after the others had decided to find a hotel for the night. The din of the airport had mellowed to a soft murmur, and the storm outside seemed less severe when viewed from the warm glow of the bar.

“You know, I never thought I’d find myself hoping a flight would get delayed longer,” Hotch confessed, his eyes locked on yours. “But I’m glad I did tonight.”

You smiled, the light catching your eyes in a way that made his heart skip a beat. “I guess some Christmas surprises come in unexpected packages,” you quipped, nudging his hand with yours on the bar top.

Hotch found himself reaching out, his hand covering yours. “This is definitely one surprise I'm thankful for,” he said, his voice lower now, more intimate.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you intertwined your fingers with his, the simple act charged with an unspoken promise. “Aaron, if we’re stuck here, might as well make the most of it, right? How about we go for a walk? It might be nice to see the snow without a window between us.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second—thinking of protocols and proprieties—but then he nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Wrapped up in borrowed airport scarves and coats, you walked together through the near-deserted terminals. The snow outside painted everything in shades of muted silver and white, and the world felt hushed, paused at your shared footsteps.

As you walked, Hotch found himself opening up about more than just work or his son. He talked about his hopes, his past holidays, and even his fears. You listened, offering thoughts and laughter in equal measure, pulling him out of his reserved shell.

Eventually, you stopped at a large window overlooking the tarmac, where the snow was piling up on empty jets. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? How something as simple as snow can change everything,” you mused, leaning against the glass.

“It is,” Hotch agreed, standing close enough to share warmth. He looked down at you, the fluorescent lights of the terminal casting shadows that played across your face. “You know, I think this is the most I’ve relaxed in a long time.”

“That’s what holidays are for, right? Even if they don’t go as planned,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that suggested so much more than casual conversation.

Hotch nodded, lost for a moment in the depth of your gaze. Then, almost without thinking, he leaned down, his voice a whisper. “May I?”

Your answer was to rise slightly on your toes, closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tentative kiss that spoke of new beginnings and mutual understanding. It was a kiss that promised more, a kiss that acknowledged the snowstorm outside not as a barrier, but as a backdrop to something unexpected and just as beautiful.

As you both pulled back, breathless from the contact and the emotions it stirred, Hotch knew this Christmas would be one to remember, not for the plans that went awry, but for the unexpected gift of meeting someone who turned a delay into a moment worth savoring.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #kiwriteswords

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pawpiefawn · 2 days ago

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𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x reader 0.5k words walking through a flower garden with him. reupload + edited from my previous blog.

al haitham's walks are practical. they are never for fun, nor the love for sunshine or feeling the grass beneath his feet – his feet always have a place in mind. they take him where he needs to be. they had never walked with the lightness of romanticisation, nor with the whimsy or delightful for the fun of it –

– until you.

he's lighter– happier, even, now that this angel of a person sits across him with the most darling smile to grace his presence.

"would you care to accompany me on a walk?" al haitham asks one day, and he turns to meet your curious gaze. he can see a flicker of hope

"you'd like to go on a walk?" you push yourself off your seat at the counter. "i don't mind accompanying you."

"is it truly that surprising?" a soft sigh parts his lips – he looks almost disappointed, even. you tiptoe to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, smiling as you watch his features turn upwards in quiet delight.

ask him a year ago if he desired anything like this, and he might have scoffed lightly and turned away.

"no," you giggle and set your heels down. "i guess it's just not something you see every day."

silently, you grab his hand – it's so much bigger than yours – and you can feel him squeeze it a just little tighter today. his hands are warm and big, rough and calloused but they also fit perfectly with the curve of your hands. it's perfect.

al haitham looks happier, you think to yourself as the grass beneath your feet greets you with a gentle hello. the flowers sway in the afternoon breeze, and the sun seems to hide away a little, in fear of burning you – it's so pleasant outside today... perhaps he's in a good mood because of that?

you watch him as he hums softly, peering at the prettysome wildflowers below.

"come here," he motions, pointing you to look towards the flowers that sprouted up.

"there's so many, hayi. it's beautiful." you gasp softly, grasping onto his fingers tenderly.

he smiles, and mumbles something under his breath.

"what was that?" you tug on his arm, looking into his eyes. he looks almost embarrassed to say it louder. he clears his throat and glances back at the wildflowers.

"if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk through my garden endlessly."

you're standing there, pleasantly surprised– shocked, even– into silence. did you hear that right?

"eh?" is the only thing that leaves your lips.

"..forget i said anything, it's alright." al-haitham pats your head, albeit awkwardly – flushed and maybe the tiniest bit embarrassed.

he silently wishes he hadn't said anything at all– silly alhaitham, who was he for thinking that someone of his demeanour would ever pepper his words with that like a lovesick fool?

"nooooo, al haitham!" you whine softly, nuzzling against his shoulder. "that was so sweet! i was just .. taken aback, with how sweet your words were."

"is it not obvious enough how infatuated with you i am?" he rests his head atop yours, breathing lightly and lovingly squeezing you tighter.

the next thing he feels is a gentle, saccharine sweet kiss being pressed against his lips – he's hungry for more, now, ravenous even – like a monster yearning for an ounce of love. maybe he wouldn't mind being the lovesick fool, just this once, if it was you.

#.☘︎ ݁˖ jasmine blooms #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #divider from plutism #nereids' realm

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ushifiles · 10 hours ago

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╰ 4,114 words · ˚ ༘ ꒱ When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness. Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

alternate universe — no powers. female reader. third person. age gap ( sylus is in his late thirties, and reader is in her early twenties ). friends to lovers. freak for freak dynamics. mentions of alcohol and violence, an unnamed shitty ex for reader. caretaker ! sylus. sugar daddy dynamics, heavy power imbalance. masturbation. somnophilia. drugging. babytrapping + breeding. fingering. cunnilingus. dubious consent, includes groping and manhandling.

For as long as anyone can remember, she had always been with Sylus.

They are not together, not even in the slightest, but they are friends — one would even say that they are the best of friends. The difference in their ages never bothered either of them. Sylus may have been in his late-thirties, and she, in her early-twenties, but that never had been a problem.

‘She makes me feel young,’ he mused one too many times, always after a few too many glasses of straight vodka emptied on the table. ‘You’re not even that old, oh god,’ she would groan to his shoulder, the fabric damp with a mess of her sweat and tears and more than one of the numerous alcohol in her glass that barely cradles the full volume of her monstrous concoction. Everyone in their circle would always end up laughing, and he would spend the night trying to bribe her to get down from the table before bringing her to his home, and to his bed where she would spend the night.

Nobody even knows how they began, not that they can answer it either. One day, they were both alone, until one day, they were not. It just felt — and it still feels — like the most natural thing in the world, being with Sylus and having him by her side.

After all, where one goes, the other follows.

He picks her up after class, and she visits him at work. He brings her to the restaurants that she wants to try, each one she talked about before having seen it on her social media; she brings him food, a sandwich or a few pastries that he mentioned once before that he wishes to try.

If one sees Sylus, then it is of no surprise if they end up seeing her too.

Some people even say that if they cannot find her, then just look for Sylus; chances are, she will be hanging off his arm with the brightest smile that makes even the sun pale in comparison. On the other hand, if they cannot seem to find Sylus, then just look for her; more often than not, he is definitely trailing after her with a besotted curl of his lips.

Eventually, his things end up mixing with hers, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of her couch, his imported sauces that find a home in her kitchen cabinets, and even bottles of his toiletries in her bathroom. In the same vein, her things find their way to his home too, a few of her stuffed animals on his bed, more than a few days’ worth of clothes in his closet, and her own fluffy robe that hangs right beside his.

Just like it has always meant to be.

She ignores how much the mere sight of their things mingling with their respective spaces makes her preen, just like how she has been ignoring how his mere presence is enough to cloud her senses in a rose-coloured haze.

It is easier this way, to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Her feelings do not matter when compared to their friendship. She is a big girl who can swallow the affection that threatens to spill from her lips every time he looks at her. She can take having to bite down the words that wish to interrupt whenever someone approaches Sylus, but she cannot resist the smugness that drips out of her whenever they all always end up rejected and his attention is returned to her like nothing ever happened.

Sylus is what home should feel like, warm and safe.

His plans shatter the moment a yapping pup enters the picture.

The man-who-should-never-be-named enters with all the bluster that comes with youth and more bark than bite, arrogant little shit. Sylus is not afraid of his proximity to his darling girl, not when she is far more clever than anyone — save for himself — gives her credit for. His presence in her life means that her standards should have risen to bars that only he can surpass.

Unfortunately, for all his foresight, such a thing did not happen.

Sylus can do no more than watch from the sidelines as she falls way too quickly, way too deep, that he can no longer bring her to the surface. It makes something in his chest ache, his teeth to dig into his cheeks until the taste of iron is all-encompassing. From the tightness of his clenched fists, pomegranates bloom from burst blood vessels until half-moon indents turn red from the blood.

Everything is fine, all of it is fine. He can be patient, especially when it comes to her.

But he is no saint, not when this stupid mutt keeps on testing him.

When she comes to him, eyes heavy with weariness and resignation, giving voice to words that do not belong to her heart — we should probably keep distance, it wouldn’t look nice to anyone if they see me hanging around you while I have a boyfriend — Sylus has to resist the urge to rip that bastard’s head off of his neck. All he does is smile, eyes curled into crescents to mask the rage that simmers deep inside of him, and agree.

He can never deny her anything after all.

So, he bides his time.

Foolish boys like that piece of shit can never take care of girls properly, can never spoil them the way they should be, can never fuck them the way a real man could. Little mutts like him tend to bark the loudest, knowing that it is all they have when their fangs will never be sharp enough.

He keeps his distance, watches through the sidelines, and waits.

When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness.

Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

When the worst happens, there is only one place that she knows to turn to.

The breakup had been a long time coming, everyone who knew her and the ex-who-must-never-be-named have always said that she was too good for someone like him. It is only now that she finally let those words sink into her brain and packed her bags, but not without leaving him with a parting slap — right above the kiss mark on his jaw that was not done in any of her lipstick shades.

She breaks up with him in the morning, and finds herself on Sylus’ front porch before evening falls completely and drowns the rest of the city in darkness.

There is no way that she will stay in that shitty apartment of his, not when she was paying more than half of the rent on top of the electricity and water bills. Let him be kicked out, he should not have cheated on her in the first place anyway.

She is here because she knows Sylus, knows that she can stay for a few weeks just to get her bearings back, and knows that he would be delighted.

He is kind to her like that.

It has barely been a minute since she rang the bell, but he is already there, windswept and breathless as if he ran just to open his door so she would not have to wait. Her heart aches with the fondness, but it is overtaken by the weight of her sorrow.

“We broke up.”

Three simple words that fall from her lips unbidden, her first words to him in months, but Sylus does not even falter when taking her into his arms and letting her cry on his chest over the time wasted on a man who did not see her worth and the time they had to spend apart because of his fragile masculinity. She weeps and clings to Sylus like a lifeline, like he is an anchor to her life that is splintering at the seams, then she lets herself rest.

He will take care of her, he always does.

They are friends, nothing more and nothing less.

Now though, everyone knows that it is only about time before it turns into something more, with the upstart pup finally out of the picture and she is finally in his home. The arrangement was only meant for a few days, then it extends to a few weeks, and when it turns to a month, she tries to offer him payment for the rent he never asked for that he snaps his teeth at playfully.

His eyes remain cold, however.

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” He asks, teeth bared in a playful snarl but the threat of his bite is true. “Do you think I’d need your money to take care of you, hm?”

It is offensive, how she thinks that she owes him money after everything. As if he demands monetary compensation when her presence in his life is more than enough. She brings light to his days, a stability to the chaos that runs around his mind. She is all that matters, much more now that she is finally in his grasp.

She shrinks at his words, and he feels something inside of him turn cold. He was too much, too fast, too harsh. His arms reach for her almost immediately, tucking her underneath his chin for an embrace. Sylus is careful to not hold her too tight, to not hold her too loosely either. “Baby, really. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. You understand, don’t you? I can take care of you, of this house, and everything else. All you have to do is to be pretty, safe, and happy. Can you do that for me, darling?”

When she nods hesitantly, he relaxes and presses a kiss to her crown.

“Good girl.”

For a few weeks, that is that.

Sylus thinks that peace has finally returned to their home, because this entire space that belongs to his name is shared by another — the only one that he wants to stay here forever, and she is finally letting him take care of her.

Until he stumbles upon her one night, scrawling on her notebook with her money separated into bills and coins. Something like irritation builds in his stomach at the mere sight.

“What are you doing?” He keeps the tone of his voice even, red tracking the way she jumps in surprise and tries to hide the notebook before giving up with a sigh. She gives him a small smile, shaky at the corners, but he is not fooled in the slightest.

The silence stretches, becoming filled with tension.

She gives in, breaks her gaze to look elsewhere. “Budgeting,” she whispers, but to his ears it sounds like a scream.

His eyebrows furrow, meeting in the middle. A frown finds its way to appear on his features. “Budgeting,” he repeats, not even as a question but as if a statement on its own. For a moment, he sees red. This stubborn little girl, really. Sylus does not know if her youth is equal to this behaviour or if it is simply in her nature, he does not know, and that lack of control and knowledge over one thing so dear to his heart is enough to rattle him.

Instead of letting it turn into another argument when she does not answer, he only pulls out his wallet and plucks a black card to lay it flat on the table.

“Use that,” he smiles, despite the way his teeth ache from the tightness in his jaw. “Don’t tell me no, darling. I don’t care for your protests and cute little refusals. You live under my roof, you better spend my money. That’s the rule. There is no such thing as having to budget for things here, alright?”

The only consolation he gets is the delightful flush on her cheeks, the widening of her eyes, and the clenching of her thighs to one another.

“I said, alright?” It was a demand for a response, one that makes her breath hitch before she gives him a frantic nod. A pretty little thing so desperate to please. Sylus watches as she reaches for the black card, holding it close to her chest with something like awe and finds something in him finally settling.

Her thighs pressing against one another under the table does not go ignored, not when all of his senses are intimately attuned to every movement that she does.

Sylus can feel his mouth go dry at the sight, daring himself to move, and when he does? It is all pure instinct. He takes a seat beside her, places one palm over her knee — dangerously close to the lace of her shorts adorned with a little bow at the waist. It is something that can be considered a friendly touch, nothing more and nothing less.

But his brain is whirring with images from his deepest fantasies, each one more depraved than the last when her legs automatically part the slightest bit in response.

[ … ] sharp spots of a kaleidoscopic lights bursting before his eyes, heaven in the shape of her perfect fucking cunt squeezing him tight with each inch that he presses deep inside her. Their lips are pressed together, her face scrunching rather adorably as sobs come spilling straight from her mouth to his—

[ … ] hair bunched between his fingers, his hand nearly engulfing the back of her head from the force of his hold. Each pull makes his bed squeak, the expensive springs making noises in protest from the ferocity of how he loves his sweetheart. His hips snap, delighting in the obscene squelching of her wetness and the copious amounts of cum he pumped into her—

[ … ] a comfortable weight above his lap, her legs spread wide open with the help of his knees so that they can both see the reflection they make in the mirror. His fingers are knuckle-deep inside her folds, skin pruned from how drenched she is. Lips to her ear, filth comes pouring out of his mouth, and he delights in the blush that overtakes her features—

[ … ] weighed down by sleep, she barely stirs when he falls to his knees between her slightly parted legs. His hands spread her open, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her knee. There’s no hesitation in the way his tongue hangs out, a starving dog and nothing more, and presses flat against the honeyed tang of her arousal—

There is no point in speaking, not when that touch is all he does. Sylus does not bring his hand higher, to the heat he can feel emanating from between her legs even this far down.

Anticipation makes everything much sweeter down the line.

Something is definitely wrong with her.

That is the only thing running through her head as she watches Sylus move around his state of the art kitchen with ease to prepare her a meal.

She has been living in his home for nearly a year now, all of her food is prepared by him or bought by his money, everything that touches her skin is paid for by the swipe of his black card that sits heavy in a bag that he bought for her. Everything that she has now all came from Sylus, and something about that makes her head spin with pleasure.

It feels nice to be taken care of like this, to have nothing to worry about.

Her footsteps bring her to the sink, knowing that it is only right that she cleans the dishes considering that he is the one cooking.

Barely even managing to touch the ceramic bowl before a hand immediately wraps around her wrist, halting all of her movements. She has always known that Sylus is big in the very literal sense of the word, he is tall and heavy and bulky, but this is the very first time that she has actually felt so little when compared to him, with his hand dwarfing the circumference of her wrist.

“Sit down,” he murmurs to her temple, pressing a quick kiss there before returning to the stovetop as if nothing happened while she remains frozen for a few more seconds.

Her heart is pounding, like she just ran a ten-mile marathon, and her legs shake when they bring her to the dining table. There is a haze setting into her brain, like she is floating but not quite. Her eyes remain trained on Sylus as he cooks; back, ramrod straight. She does not even fidget or squirm, does not even try to protest, she just sits.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile, giving her a bowl of pomegranate seeds drizzled with honey. “The food’s gonna be done in a few.”

A part of her likes this about him, the ease in the way he makes her do things. The fact that he does not need to actively order her to do them before she does. It makes a part of her brain go numb, just hazy in the delight that comes with obeying, and being good for him.

So that is exactly what she does, she eats, spoonful after spoonful. She licks the honey from her lips, and scrapes the bowl when she is nearly done. She makes sure not to leave a single seed behind. Unlike Persephone who only had six months per year, she will be spending all of her time in the Underworld by choice and with no regrets.

Winter can come for the rest of the world and never leave, she does not care. She will stay with him, inside this home that he rearranged just for her — safe and sound, happy and warm.

The meal arrives after the press of lips to her crown, and a part of her just takes great pleasure in being taken care of by him. She does not have to think, to fret, and to stress over even the smallest of things when Sylus is around. When he tugs on her wrist, she goes and sits above his lap. He does not ask, she does not refuse. No words are necessary, not when he takes such great care of her. A tap on her lips with the fork gets them parting, accepting the offering of meat in bite size pieces. A finger on her throat makes her head tilt, taking small gulps of water then wine then water again.

Dessert is in the form of chocolate-covered strawberries, one that he taps against her bottom lip with hunger in his eyes. She looks up at him, meets his gaze, and bites. Pale red juices come dripping, down her chin to her neck, and even between the swell of her breasts.

Sylus looks at her, eating from his hand, like a man half-starved and half-feral. It is not a bad feeling; in fact, it feels delightful to be wanted in such a way.

Their gazes locked, she lets her tongue dart out to press against the pad of his fingers, tasting both him and the strawberry. It is such a heady combination that it makes her giggle, part-drunkenness from the wine and part-drunkenness from him.

“I really like you,” she murmurs the confession, blunt teeth nipping at his skin. “I really like being with you like this.”

She can see the way his pupils practically dilate upon hearing her words, a shaky exhale coming loose from his throat like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders at the admission. “I really like you too,” he whispers, leaning in close to let his forehead rest on hers.

He does not kiss her, and when night falls, she has to cum several times by humping her pillow — one that he bought for her — before she can admit that she was disappointed.

A part of him knows that he should not be doing this; unfortunately, it just so happens to be a very small one.

Blood rushes even further south, and Sylus can feel himself going dizzy. When he pulls his hips back, there is a very loud squelch that drowns out the sound of her even breathing. His fingers twitch from where they hold her by the waist, resisting the urge to hold her even tighter — he does not want to leave marks, not yet, but his control is a rapidly fraying rope. She is so fucking tight, he thinks, panting like a feral dog that turns to a drawn-out moan when she clenches around him subconsciously.

She was so naive, so willing to trust everything he says. All it took was a few pretty words, a gentle touch here and there, and she was so eager to down the offered glass. A few milligrams of the drug, crushed and mixed into the juice, is enough to knock an average adult for eight to twelve hours. But she has always been smaller than him, more delicate — not that it is even a significant point considering that everyone is smaller than him. It only took thirty minutes before she stumbled on the steps, a few more before she completely dropped faint in his arms.

It was so easy to lay her on his mattress, where she should have been since the very moment she stepped foot in his home. Perhaps, even way before that. His bed is where she should have been the first time they met, he should have been Troy to this Helen of his, whisked her away to his kingdom at first sight without care for the repercussions.

What was not so easy was stripping her out of the clothes that she bought using his money. It felt like a waste, to not be able to fuck her in things that basically scream of him, but there will always be a next time.

‘And there will be a next time,’ Sylus vows to himself, mouthing the words to the skin of her nape like he wants to imprint the very intent of it into her. He can feel the tightness in his lower abdomen, the warning of an impending climax.

He does not want this to end just yet, not when she feels too good around him. But it is precisely because she feels too good that he feels himself beginning to unravel.

A hand reaches around to rub circles on the throbbing nub, breathing out a hoarse laugh when she squeezes even more around him. Even in her state of unconsciousness, she is too good— too perfect for him, and he loves her all the more for it. The sound of amusement turns into a groan, his hips stuttering in their pace.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from where he has been slobbering all over the back of her neck to lean backwards and watch how puffy her folds have become.

Sylus is mesmerised, moving his thumb to trace the outline of her pussy wrapped snugly around his cock. There is already a frothy ring around the base of his girth, and he wants to make her into an even bigger mess. He needs her filled with him, leaking of him. ‘Maybe it will get her with a baby,’ he thinks with grim pleasure, eyes alight at the thought of seeing her womb swell with his seed taking root.

She is so sweet, so delicate. Someone like her will always try and refuse him, out of some misplaced sense of independence — damn, he needs to fuck that thought right of her head soon. This is where she belongs, in his house, in his bed, with her cunt wrapped around his cock. Having a baby with him will break her, but only just a bit, Sylus will never let her be completely broken by his hand. Just enough to make her malleable, to keep her with him forever.

She is so good like that, so perfect for him.

His pace quickens, almost frantically. It is of no surprise how quickly he finishes, he holds on to her tight and brings her close as he pumps her full, hissing under his breath at the intoxicating heat.

Unaware of the fluttering lashes that roll in the back of her skull and the grin she hides on the pillow, still pretending to be asleep on her stomach.

Like calls to like after all, and too much time spent in his company has made her all the more similar to Sylus to the point where even their schemes have begun to synchronise, striving for the same goal.

Not that he is aware of how much she knows.

How much she wants.

#⠀-ˋˏ⠀𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬⠀ ⟡ ׅ ﹙ 🪽 ﹚#love and deepspace smut #lnd smut #sylus x you #qin che x reader #rewritten from an old work @ lishens

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