#objectively he has such simple looks

[xiaojaan]

kim soohyun is one of the greatest actors of our times send post

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

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Pocky Game

SUMMARY: How would they react if you asked them to play Pocky with you? Do they already know the game? How do they act while playing? And who is the first to finish the biscuit stick and kiss the other?

CHARACTERS: All NRC students (except Ortho)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points; Kissing; suggestive?

WORD COUNT: An average of 310 words per character.

COMMENTS: I had this idea for some time but only now did I write it down. I don't know what else to tell to you other than: I hope you enjoy 😘

CONTEXT: The Pocky game is a party game played with Pocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

Since it's a game similar to the famous scene from "Lady and the Tramp" where they eat spaghetti, my headcanon is that this game exists in Twisted Wonderland.

How to play:

Pick a partner that you wouldn't mind kissing.

Face your partner and put a Pocky stick between you. Each partner takes an end of the Pocky stick in their mouth.

Each partner bites their end of the Pocky stick until their mouths meet in the middle. The first person to pull away loses!

Riddle has no idea what this game is, you'll have to explain it to him. “So, if I understand correctly, you lose if you pull away and you win if you keep eating the biscuit stick. Very well. It sounds simple. But is there any purpose to the game? Is it some kind of endurance test?” You say, in a way, it can be seen like that. He smiles.“I see. Are there any other rules I should be aware of before we begin?” You say no, that you already explained everything.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him for him to bite. He does so and you begin the game. The closer he gets to your face the more he will blush. Until he starts having difficulty looking you in the eye and diverts his attention to the biscuit stick, which makes him make a cute face.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn and he pulls away. “W-wait!” The only times he gets redder than he already is is when he's angry, but of course this was not the case. “You never said there was a possibility that neither of us would pull away. If we both continue eating the biscuit stick until the end, what happens? Because if we had continued...” He looks away, embarrassed.

You apologize because you thought finding out during the game would have been a fun surprise. But you didn't know he wouldn't like the idea of... kissing you.

“What? No, no! It's not that I don't like the idea, I actually really wish I had done it... it's just that... I didn't know that it was the objective and I didn't want to, you know, be ill-mannered in case you...” Then he gets slightly upset with you. “You should have warned me! You lied to me when you said there were no more rules.” He smirks confidently. “If you were a student of Heartslabyul, it would have been off with your head for this. But I will allow you to play again and if I consider the end of the game satisfactory, you will have my forgiveness.”

In the second round, even though it's his turn, he will stop and hesitate, he wants you to be the one to consent. So you take the last bite and kiss him. You feel his lips relax. And If you deepen the kiss, he will reciprocate and hug you, pulling you towards him by the waist.

Ace knows this game so well that it's not you who invites him to play, it's he who invites you. “You also bought a box? Ha ha ha, we thought the same thing. That's a good sign.” He winks at you and smirks. “What box do we start with?”

While you play, he looks you in the eyes with a mischievous and provocative look, to see when you will chicken out and lose. The longer this takes, the more he will smile and the more smug his look will become. His face reminds you of a sly cat.

When there's only one bite left for your lips to meet, he stops, to let you choose whether to kiss him or give up and lose, while he looks you in the eyes defiantly.

If you finish the game and kiss him, his eyes will widen in surprise, but soon after that he will close his eyes and you will feel his lips form a triumphant smile. He place a hand on the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

He's the one who breaks the kiss with the most smug smile he's capable of. “Wow, chill out. We still have a lot of biscuit stick to play with.” There is a pause in which you reply. “What do you mean I was more excited than you?!” He blushes. “Lie! You were enjoying it as much as I was!... Wait! I mean...” He blushes even more. “You know what, let's play again to find out.” He smirks again.

The name of the game is not unfamiliar to Deuce, but you’ll have to remind him what kind of game it was. You explain the rules to him, that both players eat the biscuit stick from one side and the first one to pull away loses. “Okay, so whoever finishes the biscuit stick first wins?” He asks and you confirm.

“I see. So let's... wait! What happens if none of us pull away?” He asks innocently. You suggest that he finds it out while you play. And he trusts you, so he accepts the suggestion.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point for him to bite the other side. He does so, and as your faces get closer he begins to blush.

As the two of you take bites, it seems to bring out his competitive side, causing him to pay more attention to his bites of the cookie than to the fact that he's getting so close to you.

He's the one who takes the last bite and kisses you. But he'll quickly jump away and start apologizing. “Sorry, I didn't mean to- I mean I didn't think- expected-” He stammers, unable to finish a sentence and almost as red as when his Housewarden gets angry.

If he sees you looking sad or disappointed because it looks like he didn't want to kiss you, he'll immediately tell you that's not the case! Clumsily, and stumbling over his words.

“Wait... that... that's what you wanted? T-To kiss me?” The poor boy is a little slow. But now that he's realized this, he's going to try to muster up all the confidence he can and suggest that you try it again. And if you take out another biscuit stick to play again he'll be like: "Ah, yes! Try again the game, yes. That... that's what I meant, haha”

Cater was the one who had the idea. And it was probably trending on Magicam. He will ask you to play in the cutest way that only he knows how to ask. “Oh, you know this game too? So you can play with me right? Right, [Y/N]-chan~? You're not going to tell me that you've already played this with other people and you're not going to play it with me. You're going to make Cay-kun very sad, and a little jealy~.”

If you accept, he'll ask you if he can film you two playing. He promises not to post it on Magicam if you don't want him to, but the footage will be so cute that he'll at least want to keep it as a souvenir for himself. “Pretty please~?”

He will play like it's any other game, while looking sweetly into your eyes. Yes, he is taking the opportunity to flirt with you. If you get embarrassed, even just a little bit, he'll find it super cute.

He will let you take the last bite and decide whether to kiss him or not, while he looks at you seductively as a way to convince you to kiss him.

If you do, you'll feel his lips form a smile as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands on top of one of yours and the other on your cheek.

After the kiss, he will stay very close to you, wanting to hug you and with his forehead touching yours, laughing. Like those couples on social media.

Trey recognizes the name. “It's that game where two people eat the same biscuit stick until they meet in the middle, right?” He smiles awkwardly. “Isn't it usually played between crushes?”

If you answer yes in a way that makes him understand that that is exactly why you want to play with him, he'll give you that rare smirk of his, and chuckles. “Okay. I'll be happy to play with you.”

Even though he knows how the game works, he will let you have more control over the game. You'll take the first bite and he'll follow, as if the fun part for him was seeing you having fun and not the game itself.

He will be smiling sweetly the whole game, but when only the last bite is left, his smile turns into a smug as he looks into your eyes, and he kisses you, kindly and relaxedly. Then he'll pull away with that smug still on his face and he'll even lick his lip.

“Well, I guess we both won. That's what you wanted, right? Did I play well?” His expression is a mix of his gentle side with the rare cheeky side. “Oh,you would like I hadn't pull away so soon? Sorry, I'm still getting used to the rules of the game. I don't mind playing it again if you want. It was fun. With or without the biscuit stick.”

Yes, Leona knows what game this is, and he will tease you for wanting to play it. “Isn't that a cubs's play? How cute.” he says lying in the botanical garden, as always. “And why are you asking me to play? Do I look like someone who plays these games?”

You take that as a no (or at least as a 'try to convince me') So you say that if he doesn't want to, you'll find someone else to play with. Points if you say something like: "Maybe Tsunotarou would like to play with me."

“OI! I never said no! But if you want, you'll have to play with me lying down, because I'm not going to get up to make you that favour.”

He just straightens his head, resting it against the base of a tree before you begin. He opens his mouth for you to put the biscuit stick in his mouth. The only thing he'll do is bite that whenever it's his turn.

At first, his expression is neutral, almost bored. But every time your face gets a little closer to his, a smug smile forms on his lips. In the last bite, not only is he smiling, he's looking you in the eyes like a greedy predator.

He takes the last bite, attacking you with a kiss. He's been standing still the whole game, so when he does that you almost get a jump scare. Just like felines preparing to attack.

But he doesn't just attack you with the kiss. At the same time he puts his hands on your waist and makes you lie underneath him.

He breaks the kiss for a moment and looks at you to see your reaction with the most smug smile on his face. “As if this wasn't why you asked me to play with you. Now deal with the consequences.”

Jack doesn't know what game it is, but maybe he's heard the name somewhere. You'll have to explain it to him.

“Okay, it sounds like a simple game. And... You want to play it with me?” He says rubbing his neck. You say yes and if he wants too. “I... I think I don’t mind.” He says wagging his tail.

If you insist on knowing if he is really sure he wants to play with you, he will stop beating around the bush and tell you bluntly: “Yes. Yes, I would like to play it with you.” But blushing a liiittle bit.

You are the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth. He will follow you. He'll be flattered the whole game. He's never played a game so... intense for him.

Whenever your eyes meet, he looks away and his ears lower.

When there's only one bite left he'll stop and let you decide whether you want your lips to meet or not.

If you kiss him, his ears will immediately stand up straight! And if you don't pull away, he will relax, his ears will go back down, and he’ll deepen the kiss.

And you might be surprised when that shy boy a minute ago, suddenly pulls you close to him by your waist and turns the kiss into a passionate one. His tail wagging like crazy, by the way.

And as suddenly as he brought you closer to him, he will pull away, embarrassed for having let himself be carried away.

He will start apologizing and if you want to keep the flame burning, the best option is to shut him up with another kiss. He will love that.

A game that involves eating? Sign Ruggie up! A game that involves sharing food? “Hum... In that case I should have something else for the halves I let you eat.” He bargains with you.

You can try to dissuade him with something like: “But it's just a silly game. And it's just a biscuit stick.” But he will respond with: “It could even be a freshly picked dandelion, I don't play with food.” He's telling the truth, but trying to appear playful.

You suggest giving him the entire box if he plays with you once. But play the game the way it should be played, not finding a way to play around the rules just so he can keep the box. “Shye hee hee. Don't worry, I have no reason to do that.”

You're the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth and wait for Ruggie to start eating the other side. But he looked at you and the cookie with a mischievous look, came closer, opened his mouth and... ATE ALMOST THE ENTIRE THING IN ONE BITE! Leaving you just one bite away from placing your lips against his and ending the game. His gaze was cutely mischievous.

If you finish the game and kiss him, he will hold it for a second just to see if you don't pull away. And when he realizes that you are enjoying the kiss, he will grab you by the waist and deepen the kiss. And there is only one way to describe his kiss: Greedy

Azul doesn't recognize the name of the game, but when you explain it to him he realizes it's a land version of one that exists under the sea. And he'll ask you if he can see the box.

He glances at the front, but then turns it over to see the ingredients list on the back. He's counting the calories, isn't he? You try telling him something like, “Come on, it's just a silly game. Just a little biscuit stick.”

But to your surprise, he starts talking about how a game can be a brilliant marketing strategy, to wonder if he could incorporate those biscuit stick into a dessert on the Mostro Lounge menu and whether the students would be interested. You ask for his attention again.

“I’m deeply sorry for wandering off in thoughts while you were talking to me, but I heard everything you said, don't worry. And since you just gave me an idea for a special new item on the Mostro Lounge menu, the least I can do is accept your invitation to play. That might teach me more about this product. And... that way we’ll be even, correct?” He adjusts his glasses.

His confidence starts to slip as the game starts and he realizes how close your face is to his, and how close it will be by the end of the game. He tries his best to remain unmoved and maintain eye contact with you, but he can't stop the blush from appearing on his face.

When there's only one bite left, he stops so you can take the last one and decide whether the kiss happens or not.

If you do, you will feel the tension in his lips, but he will not break the kiss. And if you don't do it either, it will start to relax and deepen it. The tension turns into a smile and you feel his hands cupping your face.

Jade doesn't recognize the name of the game, and asks you if you could explain to him how to play and what it consists of. He recognizes the description as the land version of a game that also exists under the sea.

“Ah yes, I believe I understood how this game works.” Then he gives you that deceptive smile he does when his true intentions are suspicious but hard to tell. “And you chose me to play it with you? Well, I'm honored. I'm more than eager to partake in this land activity with you of all people.”

You are the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth. He follows you with a calm smile. But the eyes, they're focused on yours, intensely.

He follows the instructions you explained at the beginning, imperturbably, as if he were truly just following the rules of a simple game. But that was just what he showed. From the look in his eyes you could tell there was much more behind this behaviour.

He always shows himself so passive that it almost came as a surprise to you when he took the last bite like an attacked to kiss you. But his eyes weren't completely closed, just half closed. As if he was observing you and studying you while enjoying the kiss.

And when you start to deepen the kiss, he pulls away, with a charming and dangerous smirk on his face. “It seems that we ended the game in a draw. That is not usually a very exciting outcome, is it. Perhaps we should play another round. And perhaps... make up some new rules of our own. Wouldn't that be interesting?”

Floyd doesn't recognize the game by the name you said, but if your description makes it seem fun in some way, he'll agree to play with you. The problem is that it seems boring to him. It's just eating a cookie. What's so special about that?

You decide to reveal to him that the real reason people play it is to get a kiss from their crush at the end. This makes him smile mischievously. “Aaaah~ So that's why you want to play with me, isn't it Koebi-chan~?” The smile becomes cute. “And what is my reward if I play?”

You say if he doesn't want to kiss you he can just not play. And he sulks. “Ehh? That's not what I said. I want to know what I gain by playing.” He smirks. “Because I don't need to play to get a kiss, do I?” He pauses for a moment to appreciate your reaction. His cute smile returns. “Ah! I know, why don't you give me the box of biscuit stick as payment?” And then he says in that deep voice through the sinister smile. “You're not going to play with anyone else, are you?”

If you accept he'll be like ‘YAY. Let's play then! :3’. You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in the mouth first and he follows with a relaxed look and smile. He follows the rules like you said, but it seems like he's more focused on you than the stick, as if he was amused watching your movements and reactions.

He leaves the last bite for you, watching you with mischievous eyes and an amused smile. If you take the last bite and kiss him, he won't move, not even return the kiss, to see how long you can hold out like that.

When you break the kiss disappointed he will say with a smirk: “Aww, Why so sad? Wasn't it the win you wanted? I told you the game was boring.” He takes the box from your hand, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you close to him. “Now if you still want to make out, you should just do it you know? I'm in the mood so don't waste it.”

Kalim doesn't know what game it is but he accepts any invitation to play anything. He's like: “Of course I'll play with you! Hum... what game is that again?” And after you explain he will say with his big enthusiastic smile: “Sounds fun! I know I can't accept food from other people, but it's you, even Jamil says it's okay accepting things from you. So how do we start?”

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth and points it to the other end for Kalim to bite. He does so with a cute, innocent smile.

He seems to be having fun playing. When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn, and he ends the game giving you an extremely loving kiss. Like a smooch.

He breaks the kiss with a huge happy smile on his face. “Ha ha! This is fun! Can we play again?”

He will make you play with him until the box is empty. And when he asks to play again and you say that the cookies are gone, he will say: “Ow, I was having so much fun. You too? That's great! We should buy more. I'll pay for all of them.”

When you go to the Mystery Shop to buy more and Kalim discovers that there are several flavours, he will buy ALL OF THEM! All of the ones that Sam has? Yes, because Sam, somehow and at that moment, has ALL OF THEM THAT EXIST!

Jamil knows the game because he's heard of it, If not from schoolmates, then from his sister or something. “Isn't that the game where two people eat a biscuit stick to kiss at the end?” He says this with a neutral face, but then he makes that smug face, with one eyebrow raised. “And you want to play it with me? *chuckle* Fine. I don't see why not. I just have one question: Will you allow me to finish the game however I want?”

You say that as long as you follow the basic rules, he can end the game however he wants. “In that case, don't forget that you were the one who allowed it.” He says.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth, but before he bites the other side, he puts a finger on your chin to tilt it a little and only then bites the biscuit stick.

He plays the whole game with that cocky smile. This is one of those rare moments where he lets his cheeky side show.

When there's only one bite left, he lets you decide how the game ends. The moment you touch your lips to his he will grab you and pull you towards him to deepen the kiss in the blink of an eye. Like a snake biting its prey in a single moment.

And then, he breaks the kiss, licking his lips, and still with his arms around your waist. “You're the one who said I could end it however I wanted as long as I followed the rules.” He says with a smirk and brings his lips closer to your ear. “I hope you haven't regret it.”

Yes, Vil knows this game. There was a time when it became very popular and he usually keeps up with those trends. Especially because sometimes they are incorporated into teen shows. “If I ever participated in one of those scene? No. No offence to the genre but I prefer to participate in films and genres that are less... melodramatic. That and IF I were cast in one of those shows there would be little chance of me getting the love interest role. I am perfectly aware that I’m more of a ‘mean girl’ type.” He says with a certain pride in both his voice and his face.

“And you want to play it with me?” He smirks charmingly. “My dear, you and probably all my fans. I hope you know that if I accept, firstly what a privilege and honor it is, and secondly, that this must remain between us. *chuckle* Well, if you understand that, then perhaps I can give you that pleasure.”

He lets you be the first to put the biscuit stick in your mouth and extend the other side to him, inviting him to bite. He does so with elegance and as if he were following some kind of etiquette for that game that you didn't even know could exist. That and he even places his index finger and thumb on your chin to adjust your posture while playing.

When there's only one bite left, it's his turn. He closes his eyes and kisses you gently and delicately. He'll stay like that for a second before breaking the kiss, and lovely looking at you with a soft smile.

“I must admit it was more satisfying than I expected. Thank you for inviting me to play. I shall be the one inviting you next time.”

Epel's never heard of that game, mostly because he's never been interested in that kind of stuff. So you explain it to him. But he doesn't quite understand why that would be fun. “So two people eat a biscuit stick from each side until someone pull away? But what if no one pull away-... wait... Don't tell me the goal is to kiss at the end!?”

When you confirm, his surprised expression begins to turn red. “A-and you want to play it... WITH ME?! No, it's not that I don't want to. I mean...! Hum... you just caught me off guard. But... yes, I... would like to play with you too.” He ends up agreeing with a sweet smile.

He starts playing a little shyly, but as you two take bites he starts to see it as a real game and his competitive side gives him confidence. So much so that when the last bite arrives and he takes it, kissing you, he only realizes it too late.

He quickly pulls away, blushing profusely! He stumbles over his words as he apologizes, because at the same time he also remembers that that was the intention of the game.

“EH! Wait! This is what you wanted, isn't it? Why am I apologizing? Oi! Are you laughing at me? Fine! Let's play again!” He gives you that confident smirk. “And this time, I'm not pulling away! I'm warning you!”

The second time you play he is definitely more confident. And he keeps his word, as soon as you kiss again, he doesn't pull away. His lips start out tense, but they relax as he forgets about the game and enjoys the kiss.

Of course Rook knows this game! A fun excuse for two lovebirds to kiss? How would he not know something like that? “Oh, and would you like me to have the honor of being your playmate? Mais bien sûr, Trickster! It will be my greatest pleasure.” He smiles enthusiastically.

“May I have the honours?” He asks, holding out his hand for you to hand him the box. He takes one of the biscuit stick and puts it in his mouth, inviting you to bite the other side and start the game.

He plays with a big “innocent” smile on his face. But eventually, as your faces get closer, his eyes change to that hunter's gaze.

When there's only one bite left for your lips to meet, he stops and lets you decide whether to take the last bite or pull away, while he fixes his intense gaze on you, observing you. Yes, he likes to hunt, but part of hunting is also setting traps and waiting for the prey to fall into them.

If you finish the game and kiss him, you will feel the smile he already had grow and the kiss becoming sweeter and more passionate. His hands cupping your face, him bringing his body closer to yours, and then one of the hands slowly leaving your face to end at your lower back.

When he finally releases your lips, he's looking at you with desire. “Très bien Trickster. Your lips are sweeter than the chocolate in the biscuit stick.” He brings his lips closer to yours again. “And now, I so ache to taste that mixture of flavours again. Would you allow me to play this once more with you? There are some sensations I would like to introduce you to, as a token of my gratitude.”

Ooh, Idia knows very well what game you are talking about. Probably for the same reasons that you know it too. “Do you think you're in an Otome game or something?” He mocks you with that smug smile. “And even if you wanted to live that fantasy, why me?” he sulks. ”Do you think I would be the only one to fall for this ‘cause of the games I play? That's a bit mean, don't you think? Or did the association of one thing with the other make you feel pity for me? I'm sure any student with good taste would love to play this with you, you don't need to invite me just because no one would do it with me.”

You tell him, in the form of a scolding, that you want to play with HIM! Not out of pity, but because you like him. And maybe, just maybe, you expressed it quite bluntly because of the adrenaline of being upset with him at the moment.

“Y-y-you like me?! C'mon, why would you?” You two continue to argue until he says something like: “FINE! I'll play with you, but when you lose because you pull away at the first bite, don't blame me.”

He's the one who reaches into the box and takes out a biscuit stick to put in his mouth and points the other end at you with an almost annoyed look on his face. Which looks more like a pout.

You take a bite, he takes another and so on. As your faces get closer, to your surprise, he seems to become more confident. Do you really want to play? He'll show you how a game is won! The heat of competitiveness escalates because of the dangerous mix of stubbornness of the two involved.

When there's only one bite left, it's his turn, and he's already so heated up by the game that he finishes it as if he were making the final strick. Turning your kiss into a surprisingly passionate attack.

But only for a second, until he opened his eyes in disbelief and immediately pulled away with his hair bursting pink, and the paleness of his face contrasting with his blush.

“I-I-I warned you!” He sees you smiling, and his smugness strikes with full force. “Oh! So you weren't just baiting, you really wanted it. Fine then. Next round! And this time I'm not going to chicken out in victory, you hear?”

Malleus is already beaming with joy that you invited him to something. The fact that it's a game only makes him even more excited. Even though he has no idea what game that is. You just explain the rules, that two people eat the same biscuit stick until someone pulls away and that person loses.

“I see. It seems like a simple game to play. But what happens if neither player pulls away?” You decide to respond with: ‘Why don't we play to find out?’ He laughs ans smirks. “Fearless as ever, Child of Man. Are you truly not concerned about what might happen if you withhold information from me? Fu fu. Very well. We shall see how our game ends.”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him for him to bite. He does it with a loving smile, and tries to take bites the same size as yours. He doesn't want to cheat without knowing it.

When there's only one bite left to finish, he stops, not knowing what to do. So you're the one who ends the game and kisses him.

He is surprised, but doesn't break the kiss, instead he maintains it and deepens it. He carefully puts his arms around you to bring you even closer to him. And then brings one of his hands to your cheek. You can feel him controlling his strength to make sure he doesn't hurt you, even though he wants to hug you tighter.

He breaks the kiss unexpectedly. “I am not hurting you, am I?” He asks slightly concerned. “I am learning to control my strength, but I am afraid I might run the risk of burning you with my breathe.” You say you weren't feeling hot at all, or at least not that kind. “That is other of my concerns. I may not hurt you at first, but if I let myself be carried away... I am not aware if the same thing happens to you, I hope so, but I feel the need to show you through actions like this how much I'm in love with you and that could be...”

You tell him that just as he learned to control his strength, he can learn to moderate other things. And perhaps the best way to do that is to continue training with you, little by little. Maybe with another round of that game?

Silver doesn't know this game, but if you’re willing to explain it to him he will be happy to play with you. You explain the rules except the part about what happens if neither player pulls away. But Silver doesn't remember to ask either and you start the game as soon as he understands the basic rules.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point to the other end for him to bite. He does so and plays as you had explained to him, taking a bite whenever it is his turn. His expression remains the same throughout the game... as always.

When there is only one bite left he stops, confused about what he should do and looks at you, or rather, into your eyes, looking for a hint or something like that. And you decide to be the one to end the game and kiss him.

He is surprised, but does not pull away. He just stays like that the whole time you do. Even though his lips are relaxed, it's as if he simply accepts it and does you the favor of staying there.

You're the one who has to break the kiss, probably disappointed that it seems like he didn't reciprocate.

“What's wrong?” He asks, with the same neutral face as always. “You look sad. Did I do something wrong while playing?” You explain to him, in your own way, that it seemed like the kiss was nothing to him, but he didn't pull away either, so you were confused.

“I failed to express myself again.” He says, now with a slightly disappointed expression. “I'm sorry. I... really enjoyed it.” He smiles for a second and then goes back to being disappointed with himself. “But I didn't know what to do, so I just... let you lead, I think. I understand now that I should have taken some kind of initiative. We could play again if you could give me a second chance? Would you be willing to tutor me in how to express myself to you through a kiss?” He smiles at you again. “I would be very grateful.”

Sebek doesn't even know what game you're talking about and he's already complaining about you wanting to play a silly game with him. But fine, he lets you at least explain the game and the rules.

“Just as I thought, a foolish human game. And it is not even productive as a sport to train the body or an intellectual one to train the brain. Why would I waste something as precious as time playing something like that with you? The game is simply two people eating a biscuit to see who can finish it the fastest. FOOLISH!”

You opened your mouth to correct him and say that that wasn't really the goal, but thinking about it, maybe it was a fun way to convince him to play. So you choose to insinuate that he is so slow at eating that he wouldn't be able to beat a mere human in such a competition.

“WHAT?! You believe you're up to my standards in any kind of physical competition? HA! That's what we're going to see, human.” He says smugly. “Pass me one of those biscuit stick, if you please.”

He's the first one to put the biscuit in his mouth, and he even crosses his arms looking at you with a defiant and cocky look.

You start playing, and quickly, without him noticing in time, he kisses you. But only for like half a second before pulling away in the blink of an eye. “AH! YOU DECEIVED ME!” He says with a serious and offended look but a blush on his face. “This is not a game, it's a trap! AND I FELL FOR IT!”

You ask if he didn't like it, and his blush only deepens. “Th-those weren't my words! Do not distort my speech!” So you ask, with a smirk, if he would play with you one more time. “Very well! We shall play again.” He smirks too. “ And this time I will not pull away! Be warned, human!”

As incredible as it may seem, Lilia doesn't know this game well, but he has heard of it. This is a recent thing for very young people, and as that phase of his life had already passed and Silver was never interested in those things, he ended up never having the opportunity to get to know the game.

You see his eyes light up with amusement and interest as you explain the game. “Khee hee hee, sounds like a simple but fun game.” Then, he smirk with a sly look. “I wonder what happens if neither of us pulls away. I assume you were inviting me to play because you are also interested in finding out? Fu fu. Let's play then. Will you do the honours?”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and Lilia bites the other side. He plays with a cute expression rather than a smug one, probably to make you more comfortable and confident playing. His red gaze can be too penetrating, at least for the first round of the game.

When there is only one bite left to finish, he stops, even if it’s his turn. He wants you to be the one to decide how the game ends.

You take the last bite and kiss him. And now you can feel from his lips that his cute expression has given way to smugness again. He cups your face and deepens the kiss. He is surprisingly (or not) very skilful, so much so that if the kiss were a dance he would certainly be the one guiding it.

And he's the one who breaks the kiss, gently, and gives you a cute smile. “I know I'm irresistible, but let us save some energy for the next rounds, shall we? How many biscuit stick are in the box?”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[solxamber]

I loved the platonic Malleus helps Yuu get Idia fic and I was wondering if you could so something similar with Cater or Trey or Vil or Leona or Floyd? You can choose, anything like that would be amazing my liege.

you asked and i answered, i love this concept so much

Fae Courtship 101: Romance for Dummies || Floyd Leech

In your desperation to confess to Floyd, you made the grave mistake of recruiting Malleus for help—now the only thing you’re courting is death.

For reasons beyond mortal comprehension—beyond your own comprehension—you have fallen for Floyd Leech.

Floyd. Leech.

The man who treats personal space like a suggestion, bites people for fun, and once chased a first-year across campus while laughing like a slasher villain because he was “bored.”

The man who once tried to sell you to Azul in exchange for a really nice hat. The man who could, at any given moment, be contemplating something as simple as “what’s for lunch” or something as horrifyingly chaotic as “what if I threw the prefect off the third-floor balcony to see how they bounce?”

It’s a bad idea. Objectively, scientifically, in every single way, this is a mistake.

Grim and Deuce have been holding interventions. The ghosts of Ramshackle have been looking at you like they’re already preparing to welcome you into their ranks. You're rapidly losing the moral high ground in any discussion about Ace’s bad life choices.

But the heart wants what it wants. And unfortunately, yours wants to make terrible decisions.

Which brings you here, pacing alongside Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, king of ominous nighttime strolls, and your designated therapist for the evening.

“I just—I don’t get it, Malleus!” you wail, gesturing wildly as you stomp through the moonlit campus. “I should like normal people! People who don’t consider attempted murder to be a love language! I should have instincts!”

Malleus hums in thought. “Hm. Concerning.”

“Exactly!” You throw your hands up. “I should be running in the opposite direction! Instead, I’m over here, wondering if he’d bite me gently if I asked nicely!”

Malleus stops walking.

You stop too, looking over to see him gazing at you with a carefully neutral expression. There’s a brief silence. A beat. And then, slowly—gravely—he nods.

“Understood.”

You blink. “...Huh?”

He turns to you with the air of a man who has just accepted a sacred duty. “You have chosen a perilous path, Child of Man.”

You stare. “I—??"

“But fear not,” he continues, raising a hand to his chest in solemn promise. “I shall help you attain your romance.”

Silence.

A breeze rolls through the courtyard. A crow caws in the distance. Somewhere, Grim is experiencing a deep sense of foreboding.

“…You’re going to what?”

Malleus nods again, expression determined. “Leave it to me.”

You suddenly have so many regrets.

Grim looks at you the way a doctor looks at a patient about to flatline. Gravely. With pity. With deep concern for the irreversible damage.

"Okay, listen hench-human, I’ve let a lot of things slide, but this? This I gotta ask—do you hate life that much?"

You blink at him. "What?"

Grim waves his little paws dramatically. "First, you fall for Floyd of all people. That’s already a death wish. And now, you’re actually listening to Malleus for dating advice? What’s next? You gonna ask Kalim for tips on financial responsibility?!"

You open your mouth. Close it. You… okay, you really have no defense. But before you can say anything—

There’s a knock at the door.

And you don’t even have to guess who it is.

You open it to find Malleus standing there, his expression set in earnest determination. In his hands is a book that looks older than your grandmother. The kind of ancient tome that looks like it holds dark secrets, forbidden spells, possibly even a recipe for soup made from human souls.

Standing right next to him, grinning like a goblin, is Lilia.

You feel your soul leave your body.

"Ah, Child of Man," Malleus intones. "I have found it. The ultimate guide to fae courtship rituals. You shall use these techniques to win the heart of your eel."

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Lilia cackles. "Do you know how long it's been since I’ve seen these methods in action? The devastation! The absolute carnage!"

You stare at them. You stare into the abyss. The abyss grins back.

Grim looks at you, his face a perfect picture of someone watching a loved one make the worst life decisions in real time.

"You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

…You sigh. "Yeah. I’m really doing this."

You are simply minding your own business, walking to class like a normal person, when you spot Floyd approaching from the other end of the hallway.

As always, you smile at him, because you have fully accepted your fate as a fool with horrible taste in men. You expect him to either grin back or threaten to suplex you for fun—classic Floyd things.

What you do not expect is the sudden sensation of a phantom hand shoving you forward.

And just like that, gravity wins.

You crash into Floyd with all the grace of a drunk goose, smacking into his chest with enough force to send both of you stumbling. Floyd barely moves (because he is built like a problem), but you rebound like a cartoon character, nearly falling over before his hands land heavily on your shoulders.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you stare at him.

Then, slowly, your brain remembers what just happened, and you whip around—

Only to see Malleus standing at the end of the hallway, looking extremely pleased with himself.

He gives you a smug, regal nod.

He is also holding a book titled "How to Romance for Dummies."

You are going to throw hands with a literal prince.

Before you can implode, Floyd’s grip on your shoulders tightens. You turn back to him, only to find him looking entirely too displeased about being your impromptu landing pad.

“Shriiiimpy,” he drawls, squinting at you like a judge in a courtroom drama. “What’s up with that, huh? Tryna tackle me first thing in the morning?”

“I—I tripped!” you stammer, trying to collect the shreds of your dignity. “I didn’t mean to crash into you, I swear!”

Floyd hums, unconvinced. Then, after a beat of consideration, he shrugs.

“Aaah, whatever.” His fingers dig just slightly into your shoulders, a slow grin stretching across his face. “You still ran into me, soooo… you owe me.”

You blink. “Wait. Owe you?”

“Mhm!” His grin widens, teeth sharp. “Now ya gotta hang out with me today.”

You blink again. Slowly. You could argue, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t get you anywhere, and honestly? Maybe this is exactly the opening you need.

Maybe… Malleus isn’t that bad at this.

You take that last thought back immediately.

Because not even a day after that whole hallway fiasco, Malleus finds you again, pulls you aside with all the gravitas of an ancient ruler about to bestow divine wisdom, and insists that, in order to properly court Floyd, you must—

Compliment Floyd’s strength three times. At first, you thought, okay, easy enough, I can just tell him he’s strong and call it a day. But then—THEN—Malleus, in his infinite wisdom, handed you a quill and parchment and declared, “It must be in verse. Poetry carries the weight of true devotion.”

And now, here you are.

Standing in front of Floyd Leech. Holding a piece of paper with the most cringe-inducing attempt at poetry you've ever written in your life.

Floyd, to his credit, was already giggling the moment you approached with a look of sheer suffering. But when you clear your throat and attempt to actually read the thing—

"Oh mighty Floyd, with hands so bold—"

He just. Loses it.

Absolutely wheezing, doubling over, practically using you as a support beam to keep himself upright.

You glare at him and continue, determined to power through:

"A force unmatched, a tale retold—"

Floyd: "PFT—!!!"

He’s straight-up crying at this point. Tears. You swear you hear Jade laugh somewhere in the distance.

You don’t even make it to the third compliment. You just turn on your heel and walk away before your soul crumples in on itself like a dying star.

Malleus, watching from afar, sighs in clear disappointment. “You lack dedication,” he murmurs, shaking his head like an elder watching the youth fail at life.

You absolutely regret everything.

You don't know why you keep letting Malleus give you advice. Actually, no—that's a lie. You do know. It's because the second he heard you liked Floyd, his eyes lit up like he’d just been given a personal quest by the divine forces of romance, and now he refuses to rest until your love is secured.

Unfortunately, this means you are currently locked in yet another horrendous discussion about fae courting rituals.

"Scent-marking is a vital step in courtship," Malleus declares with the kind of grim authority that should be reserved for battlefields, not this. "He must recognize you as his."

You blink at him. "Oh, like giving him my hoodie or something?" That’s normal. That’s doable. That’s the kind of thing people do when they like each other, right? You’ve seen couples swap sweaters before. Maybe Malleus is finally onto something not-insane.

Malleus shakes his head gravely. "No. You must present him with something you have personally scented. Ideally, by rolling upon it."

Silence.

Rolling upon it.

You stare at him. He stares back. Completely serious.

You try to process what he’s just suggested. What he has just, with full sincerity, told you to do.

"Malleus."

"Yes?"

"You want me to roll around on an object like a dog and then give it to Floyd."

"Precisely."

You briefly consider just walking into the ocean.

It takes twenty full minutes to talk him down from this absolute lunacy and convince him that simply giving Floyd a sweater you’ve worn will do the job just fine. He looks at you the way a disappointed coach looks at a failing athlete.

"If you are not dedicated to the craft," he mutters, "you cannot expect great results."

You pretend you don’t hear him.

Fast forward to the next day, and you are sitting in class next to Floyd, who is draped over his desk in a deep and powerful boredom coma.

You pull out the sweater and awkwardly nudge it toward him.

"Here."

Floyd immediately perks up. Dangerously interested. He tilts his head, peering at the sweater like you’ve just handed him a rare treasure.

"Eh? What's this?"

"It's mine. You can have it," you say, trying to play it cool, despite the fact that your entire soul is trying to flee your body from embarrassment.

Floyd picks up the sweater and—without hesitation—presses his face into it.

You almost die. Right then and there. Instant expiration.

He leans back in his chair, grinning way too wide. "Heheh~ You smell nice, shrimpy~"

You barely manage to hold onto your composure. You are barely hanging on.

Malleus, watching from the hallway, narrows his eyes and mutters, "It is not the worst effort... but it lacks the impact of true commitment."

You ignore him. You ignore everything. You're just grateful that—for once—this wasn’t completely unhinged, and that Floyd somehow seems to like it.

"Nothing says romance like a meal made with your own two hands!" Lilia declares, slamming an ancient, definitely cursed cookbook onto the table.

You blink down at it. The title is in some language that makes your vision swim just looking at it. The edges are charred, the pages stained with substances you’re 70% sure are not food-safe, and Malleus—Malleus Draconia himself, looks a little unsure.

That should have been your first hint.

But you? A fool. An idiot. A desperate, love-struck buffoon? You press forward.

“Alright,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, already regretting this. “What ingredients do I need?”

Lilia beams, flipping to a page that looks like it came from an alchemist’s horror novel.

"Let's see! We’ll need:"

• Moonshade Truffle,

• A pinch of Sablethorn Dust,

• Three drops of Evernight Basilisk Extract,

• Seven Tears of a Joyful Banshee,

• And a Love-Smitten Fire Spirit’s Breath!

…

You stare.

"Lilia."

"Yes, beastie?"

"These sound like potion ingredients."

"Oh-ho!" Lilia chuckles, waving a hand. "You humans always get so caught up in technicalities. But what is cooking if not a kind of magic?"

…No. No, this is actual magic. You are not making a love potion, but this sure as hell sounds like one.

But, like the fool you are, you go along with it. You spend far too much money (your entire savings) at Azul’s Most Definitely Not a Scam Emporium for all of these ridiculous ingredients. He knows you’re up to something dumb. He does not care. He simply profits.

And now, here you are. In the Ramshackle kitchen. Grim watches from a safe distance behind a chair. Malleus stands off to the side with his arms crossed, looking like he is rethinking his life choices. And Lilia, that menace, is watching you mix the ingredients like a proud mentor.

Everything is going fine. Suspiciously fine.

And then—

"Alright, time to bake it!" Lilia claps his hands. "It says here to bake at 350 for 20 minutes!"

You nod. This is reasonable.

"However!" He flips the page. "In the olden days, we used a slightly different method."

Malleus frowns. Your stomach drops.

"Instead of 350 for 20 minutes…" Lilia hums. "It says here—750 for 10!"

…

"What."

"Don’t be shy! Give it a try!" Lilia gestures for you to do it.

Malleus shifts, looking like he wants to intervene. Grim is slowly backing out of the room. You ignore all of this.

Because you are an idiot.

You turn the oven to 750. You shove the pan inside. You watch in real-time as your dignity burns.

The oven makes a sound ovens should not make.

Something explodes. The smell is indescribable.

When you pull the pan out, it is a pile of pure, blackened charcoal.

You are horrified. Malleus looks concerned. Grim looks betrayed.

"Are ya tryin’ to kill me, Henchhuman?!" Grim yells. "I thought we were friends!"

But Lilia? Lilia is nodding approvingly.

"Ah," he sighs, nostalgic. "Just like how I remember it."

…This man should not be allowed in kitchens.

But you, an absolute buffoon, take the charred remains of your so-called courtship offering and bring it to Floyd anyway.

You find him in the cafeteria, dump the plate in front of him, and sit down. Defeated.

Floyd stares. Pokes it with a finger.

And then, he looks at you.

With pity.

"Shrimpy." His voice is gentle. You feel a chill of fear. "You goin' through hard times or somethin'?"

…

You die inside.

Your cooking was so bad that Floyd Leech—FLOYD LEECH—was feeling sympathy for you.

You have never known such shame.

You sit there, staring into the distance like a soldier who’s seen too much. A philosopher pondering the futility of existence. A person who has scent-marked a sweater and written poetry at the behest of a fae prince who thinks you’re simply not dedicated enough to the craft of love.

You are contemplating life, death, and the many, many decisions that have led you here.

And then, Jade sits beside you.

You don’t even flinch. You should. You should be wary. You should immediately launch yourself into the bushes and prepare to be interrogated in some terrifying eel version of psychological warfare. But you don’t. Because you have nothing left.

So you just turn your head slowly, look at him with the dull, hollow eyes of someone who’s really going through it.

Jade looks positively delighted.

"My, my," he says, in that syrupy, knowing voice of his. "What could possibly put you in such a state?"

You inhale. Exhale. Consider your options. Death is looking really attractive.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

Jade hums, obviously entertained, but then—then—he decides to make it worse.

"You know," he muses, "even Floyd has started to get concerned."

You blink.

"…Huh?"

"Oh, yes," he says, resting his chin on his hand, enjoying every second of this. "Between the odd gifts, the unusual behavior, and your general aura of suffering, even he has begun to notice. Which means you are being particularly obvious, because he rarely pays attention to anything that isn't entertaining."

You don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.

"What’s your point?" you mutter.

Jade smiles like a predator about to land a final, devastating strike.

"You should simply tell him. Because this…?" He gestures vaguely at your soul-deep despair. "This is rather pitiful."

You stare.

You process.

And, somewhere in the depths of your heart, you realize he’s right.

You are in shambles.

Like, properly, horrifically, soul-crushingly in shambles. You’ve been through so much. You've spent weeks engaging in increasingly deranged behavior at the behest of a well-meaning yet hopelessly out-of-touch fae prince. You've endured ritual poetry readings, scent-marking disasters, and a culinary war crime that left you emotionally and financially bankrupt.

And now, standing in front of Floyd Leech—the very cause of your descent into insanity—you finally snap.

"I LIKE YOU!" you blurt, voice cracking like a cheap mirror. "I LIKE YOU AND I'VE BEEN ACTING LIKE A LUNATIC BECAUSE MALLEUS SAID I HAD TO FOLLOW FAE COURTSHIP RITUALS AND I—" your voice hiccups, borderline hysterical, "—I THINK I LOST A PIECE OF MY SOUL WHEN I TRIED TO BAKE THAT DAMN CAKE BUT IT'S FINE, BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S JUST WHAT LOVE IS??? AND I DID IT ALL FOR YOU, FLOYD, BECAUSE I AM A DUMB IDIOT WHO LIKES YOU FOR SOME REASON."

You gasp for air, because this has been a lot.

And Floyd?

Floyd is laughing.

Not just a chuckle, either. No, this menace of a man is bent over, hands on his knees, actually wheezing with mirth as if you’ve just performed the comedy routine of the century. His shoulders shake. His teeth glint in the light. He looks absolutely delighted.

And you? You just stand there, a broken, hollow shell of a human being.

"You should’ve just told me, Shrimpy~!" he cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you too, y’know?"

...

There’s a moment of silence as your poor, battered brain struggles to process this information.

"WHAT."

Floyd grins, like you haven’t just endured weeks of psychological torment at the hands of a dragon prince. "I mean, you’re fun! You make me laugh, and I like squeezin’ ya. ‘Course I like ya!"

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, he lunges forward and grabs you in a hug so tight that your ribs beg for mercy. You are crushed, consumed, engulfed in the sheer force of his affection. Your spine may never recover, but at this point, what’s another injury to your dignity?

And honestly? You don’t care.

Because he likes you.

Floyd likes you back.

Which means—you realize, tears pricking your eyes in relief—you never have to perform another insane fae courtship ritual again.

No more humiliating poetry. No more dubious scent-marking. No more playing Russian roulette with your digestive system in the name of romance. You did it. You won.

And then Floyd leans down, cups your face, and kisses you.

It's a little rough, a little overwhelming, but you melt into it anyway, because Sevens, you earned this.

Somewhere in the distance, Malleus Draconia watches from the shadows.

Arms crossed, nodding sagely, he looks upon his greatest success.

"My expert techniques," he murmurs, pride swelling in his voice, "have secured my child of man their eel."

Behind him, Lilia wipes an imaginary tear.

"Beautiful," he sighs.

Masterlist

[venuslarkspur]

❤️Can I order a squid game fanfic of

You have them as your phone lock screen (anything similar) with the same characters as 'whos gonma marry the pink haired girl' plus recruiter its thats fine

OFC YOU CAN 💗

Having Them As Your Lockscreen

Summary: Squid Game characters with you have them as your lockscreen!

Characters: Thanos x Reader, Se-Mi x Reader, Kang Dae-Ho x Reader, Cho Hyun-Ju x Reader, Hwang Jun-Ho x Reader and The Recruiter x Reader.

Warnings: mostly All fluff. Squid game violence, the recruiters is sort of yanderish?

Note: I’m writing like 11 different fics no joke 😭 GENDER NEUTRAL READER! NOT PROOFREAD

Thanos

- His ego grows just a LIL bigger, loves that HIS girl/boy/whatever! Has him as their Lock Screen.

- Suddenly wants to match EVERYTHING, Tattoos, Nail vanish, piercings, even pfps if you bring it up.

- Would love if you dyed your hair as well, but probably won’t force you just recommended it to you <3

- Would change his Lockscreen to you and him as well, and on the angsty side of things we know Thanos struggled with suicide and you pulled him out a dark abyss, so he practically always wants to see your face.

- after matching with you he will randomly turn on his phone if he wants to just look at you.

- Suggests matching phone charms as well.

Se-Mi

- Jokes on you! you were her Lockscreen first. Ever since you guys hit the 1 year mark you’ve been her everything, her Lockscreen, her HomeScreen, even her password.

- You’ve nipped out to get snacks and she sees you’ve got a notification from a friend, she’s goes to check it just see you’ve got her and you as your Lockscreen 🫶 (she knows she’s found a keeper atp)

- If anyone dares bring it up or even make fun of you for your Lock screen , she’s very firmly telling them to shut the fuck up.

- Isn’t letting anyone talk to her partner that way 💕

- Will probably ask if you wanna get matching piercings as well.

Kang Dae-Ho

- A little part of him melts, is also wondering why tf he didn’t think of that first!

- Reaffirms himself and his security with you.

- Also changes his to be just of you.

- Adds little photo widgets of himself and you to his Lockscreen as well, he AWAYS wants to see you.

- He notices you’ve added your own widgets, like photos of the bouquet he bought you up, your holding hands and even photos of him in the early morning when you guys have just woke up.

Cho Hyun-Ju

- She’s smitten the first time she notices, knew she struck gold when she met you; someone who treats her with respect and love.

- She’s a little more clingy to you that day, not that you mind at all. Lots of hand rubbing and cheek kisses.

- You ask her “what’s wrong love?” And she replies with a simple “nothing, nothing at all.”

- Starts taking more photos of you both than usual because she wants to add them as widgets!

- Will ask if you wanna match home screens or phone charms next.

Hwang Jun-Ho

- The type of guy to point it out low-key, only because he’s found himself a keeper.

- Would especially love it if the picture of you two is from one the dates he’s taken you on.

- He was worried originally that you had fallen out of love with him, after he came back half dead with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Knowing you still wanted to see him helped.

- I imagine he has a basic Lockscreen so when he asks to change his to you, you have to help him <3

- He just loves you.

The Recruiter

- Definitely another one who already had you as his Lockscreen, he wants to see you at ALL times.

- Would lose more of his marbles if he couldn’t see his partner.

- He lives a dangerous life so does worry for your safety sometimes if anyone were to ever find out your his spouse.

- Is very delighted to find out he’s yours Lockscreen as well! You’re the object of all his desires and you’re not going anywhere.

- Doesn’t dare brag to people, because he wants you to himself.

————————

I had to keep them all short because I knew damn well I’d get sidetracked 😭🫶

[reasonsforhope]

"A 9th grader from Snellville, Georgia, has won the 3M Young Scientist Challenge, after inventing a handheld device designed to detect pesticide residues on produce.

Sirish Subash set himself apart with his AI-based sensor to win the grand prize of $25,000 cash and the prestigious title of “America’s Top Young Scientist.”

Like most inventors, Sirish was intrigued with curiosity and a simple question. His mother always insisted that he wash the fruit before eating it, and the boy wondered if the preventative action actually did any good.

He learned that 70% of produce items contain pesticide residues that are linked to possible health problems like cancer and Alzheimer’s—and washing only removes part of the contamination.

“If we could detect them, we could avoid consuming them, and reduce the risk of those health issues.”

His device, called PestiSCAND, employs spectrophotometry, which involves measuring the light that is reflected off the surface of fruits and vegetables. In his experiments he tested over 12,000 samples of apples, spinach, strawberries, and tomatoes. Different materials reflect and absorb different wavelengths of light, and PestiSCAND can look for the specific wavelengths related to the pesticide residues.

After scanning the food, PestiSCAND uses an AI machine learning model to analyze the lightwaves to determine the presence of pesticides. With its sensor and processor, the prototype achieved a detection accuracy rate of greater than 85%, meeting the project’s objectives for effectiveness and speed.

Sirish plans to continue working on the prototype with a price-point goal of just $20 per device, and hopes to get it to market by the time he starts college." [Note: That's in 4 years.]

-via Good News Network, October 27, 2024

[reidmarieprentiss]

Don't Get In Your Own Way

Summary: You and Spencer have always been close - everyone else can see it's more than just friendship. When will you two be ready to see it as well?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, light smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, suggestive content, friends to lovers, minimal BAU case talk, mild public indecency

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: this was an olddd draft ,,, i came back to give it the ol' razzle dazzle

main masterlist

Every afternoon, like clockwork, you and Spencer retreat to the stairs outside the FBI offices, your little quiet corner away from the noise of the bullpen. The team is usually scattered—some opting for takeout at their desks, others heading out for a bite—but you and Spencer? You prefer the fresh air, the slight reprieve from case files and fluorescent lights, just the two of you.

Spencer talks—a lot. And you let him. You never interrupt when he goes off on a tangent, whether about a book he’s been reading, some obscure historical event, or even the latest behavioral theory he’s been mulling over. He’s learned, over time, that you listen—that you don’t just humor him but engage, ask questions, challenge him. It’s one of the reasons he feels safest around you, why he lets the mask slip, why he doesn’t feel the need to filter himself. Around you, he’s just Spencer. Not Dr. Reid, not the genius of the BAU. He's just a guy who loves sharing the things that make his brain light up.

Lately, he’s been growing his hair, letting the waves fall into his face while he works. He never noticed how often he pushed it back, but you did. One afternoon, after watching him shove it out of his eyes for the hundredth time while struggling through paperwork, you wordlessly slid a hair tie onto his wrist.

“For when you finally give up,” you’d said with a small smile.

Spencer had looked at the simple black band like it was some kind of sacred object before slipping it on. He never did tie his hair up, but the band stayed. Now, when he’s anxious, when his thoughts spiral too fast for even him to keep up, he rolls it between his fingers, snaps it lightly against his skin, and uses it as an anchor. He wonders if you even realize what you’ve given him and how something so small makes him feel grounded.

You are completely unaware of how much Spencer sees you and how much he feels for you. You like him—more than you should, more than is probably appropriate for two people who are just friends—but you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. Spencer is brilliant and kind and so effortlessly attractive, and you? You convince yourself he’d never see you that way. It’s not self-deprecating, not really—just… reality.

Meanwhile, Spencer sits beside you every day, wondering how you don’t notice how his eyes linger, how his heart jumps every time you laugh, and how he holds onto your hair tie like a lifeline. How he wonders if you feel the same way.

—

Derek doesn’t let up. Not now, not ever.

Spencer’s been subjected to his relentless teasing for years, but ever since he started growing his hair out—and ever since you gave him that hair tie—Derek has been on a mission.

“Pretty Boy, you’re pathetic,” Derek says one afternoon, leaning against Spencer’s desk with his arms crossed, watching him roll the hair tie between his fingers like it’s some kind of lifeline.

Spencer, who has been deep in thought, barely looks up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Derek scoffs. “The hair tie? The way you light up every time she talks to you? The fact that you, the man who hates all forms of physical contact, don’t even flinch when she gets in your space? Do you even hear yourself when you talk about her?”

Spencer blinks at him, feigning ignorance. “I talk about her the same way I talk about all of my friends.”

Derek lets out a loud, incredulous laugh. “That’s funny. Real funny. Because I don’t remember you getting all flustered and dreamy-eyed when you talk about me.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “I don’t get flustered.”

Derek raises a brow and mimics Spencer in a high-pitched, breathy voice. “Oh, she listens to me ramble. She actually engages with me. She’s so perceptive.” He drops the act, shaking his head. “Man, you are down bad.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and turns back to his book, a weak defense mechanism. “I really don’t think—”

“No, you don’t think,” Derek interrupts. “That’s the problem. Because if you were thinking, you’d realize that she looks at you the same way you look at her.”

That makes Spencer freeze, a book halfway in his hands.

Derek smirks, knowing he’s struck something deep. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to protest and argue some logical counterpoint, but nothing comes out. He can’t explain away the way his heart clenches at the mere possibility that you might feel the same.

Derek slaps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Any day now, Pretty Boy. Any day now.” Then he walks off, leaving Spencer to stare blankly at his book, brain absolutely wrecked.

He glances down at the hair tie around his wrist, suddenly hyper-aware of the way it sits against his skin.

Rossi is just as relentless with you as Derek is with Spencer—except he’s a little more subtle about it. He doesn’t tease in the same playful, in-your-face way that Derek does with Spencer. No, Rossi prefers to plant little seeds, make small comments, and give you just enough to get your mind churning.

He’s been keeping a close eye on you ever since you joined the team. Maybe it’s the way you love to talk about home or how you light up when someone treats you like family. So, naturally, Rossi steps in. A guiding hand, an occasional piece of advice, a warm presence when you need one.

And right now? Right now, you need someone to tell you that you’re being blind as hell.

“You know, bella, I’ve been around a long time,” Rossi says one afternoon, leaning back in his chair, swirling a glass of bourbon in his hand. “I’ve seen a lot of things. A lot of things. And I’d like to think I have a pretty good read on people.”

You barely look up from your case file. “Are you about to say something wise or just something annoying?”

He smirks. “Oh, I can do both.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue.

Rossi takes a sip of his drink, watching you with that knowing look that makes you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. “You like him, you know.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, but you don’t react. Not outwardly, at least. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re smarter than that.”

You exhale sharply, still keeping your eyes on your paperwork. “I don’t like Spencer.”

Rossi chuckles, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “That’s cute. Now say it again like you mean it.”

You finally glance up at him, narrowing your eyes. “I mean it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rossi hums, clearly unconvinced. He leans forward, resting his arms on his desk. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger.”

You raise a brow. “Oh? You had a thing for Spencer, too?”

Rossi lets out a full-bodied laugh. “No, but I was stubborn. And I was good at convincing myself that things weren’t what they obviously were.” He tilts his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Let me ask you something. If I told you that Spencer thinks the world of you, that he practically glows when you’re around, what would you say?”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of your heartbeat. “I’d say you’re exaggerating.”

Rossi shakes his head. “No, bella, I’m not. Derek sees it. I see it. Hell, even Garcia sees it, and she’s usually too busy matchmaking herself to notice when something’s right under her nose.” He leans back again, watching you carefully. “But the real question is—why don’t you see it?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. The truth? Because the idea that Spencer could feel that way about you is terrifying. You’ve convinced yourself he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not in the way you secretly hope.

So you deflect. “Spencer’s just… Spencer. He’s sweet to everyone.”

Rossi sighs, shaking his head with something like fond exasperation. “You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.”

You scoff lightly. “What, you want me to march over there and declare my undying love?”

Rossi grins. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

You shake your head, muttering something about meddling old men as you shove your paperwork into a neat stack, trying to ignore the way your hands feel slightly unsteady.

Rossi just watches you, amusement still lingering on his face.

Because he knows.

And one day, you’ll know, too.

—

The precinct is buzzing with too much movement and too much noise. Officers shuffling papers, detectives arguing over case details, coffee machines gurgling, the fluorescent lights humming like an irritating static in the back of your head. It’s a small station, cramped, and the team has been forced into an even smaller conference room, shoulder to shoulder with local law enforcement.

Spencer has been quiet all morning, his fingers twitching slightly, his blinking a little too frequently. You’ve been with him long enough to notice when the world is becoming too much for him, and right now, it’s clear that the rapid-fire conversations, the overlapping voices, the smell of burnt coffee and cheap air freshener—it's all pushing him to the edge of his tolerance.

So, as usual, he attaches himself to you.

It’s something he’s done for years, seeking you out when things get overwhelming. You’ve never minded. In fact, you never even thought much of it—until now.

Right now, his head is slumped against your shoulder, a deep sigh escaping him, his breath warm where it ghosts over the fabric of your shirt. His long fingers loosely clutch your jacket sleeve, not in an obvious way, but just enough that you know he’s anchoring himself with your presence. His entire frame is pressed slightly against your side, fitting into your space in a way that should feel intrusive—but it doesn’t. It never does.

But today? Today, it does feel different. Not bad, not at all, just... noticeable.

The warmth of his body against yours. The way his hair brushes your cheek when he shifts. The way you can feel the weight of him, trusting, unguarded.

You should say something—acknowledge it, maybe even tease him like Derek would—but your throat feels tight. Instead, you sit perfectly still, let him rest, let him take what he needs from you.

Across the room, Rossi is watching. He doesn’t say a word, just gives you a knowing look, an almost smirk, before turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

You swallow hard, your mind racing with thoughts you don’t have time to entertain. Not right now. Not with a case on the line.

Spencer exhales again, a deep, exhausted sound. Without thinking, you lift your hand and gently brush it over his arm, a quiet reassurance. He hums in response—barely audible, but enough to let you know he appreciates it.

And you?

You pretend your pulse isn’t hammering; pretend this is just like every other time.

Even though, for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way anymore.

—

The room is already cold and sterile, the air thick with the lingering scent of antiseptic and something darker, something that clings to the walls of places like these—death, decay, the remnants of lives cut short. The mortuary is dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs casting a bluish hue over the metal slabs, the bodies covered with crisp white sheets.

Spencer and Emily step inside, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them away from the world of the living for just a little while.

Emily exhales, rubbing her hands together despite the temperature-controlled environment. “I don’t know what Hotch thinks we’re going to find that we didn’t already see,” she murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in her tone—just exhaustion.

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He’s already moving, scanning the room with sharp, restless eyes. He doesn’t like being back here. Too quiet, too still. Too much time to think. And he’s already spent the morning overstimulated, barely hanging onto himself. If it weren’t for you—your presence, your steadying warmth—he might have lost his grip entirely.

But you’re not here now.

Emily watches him for a moment, sees the way his fingers twitch slightly, how he pushes his hair back only to drop his hand to his wrist, rolling the familiar hair tie between his fingers. A grounding mechanism. She’d seen him do it before.

“Spencer,” she calls gently.

He blinks and looks at her.

“You okay?”

He hesitates, then nods.

Back in the SUV, Emily watches Spencer out of the corner of her eye as he flips through the case file, his knee bouncing slightly, his fingers twitching against the edge of the folder. He’s rattling off statistics about the likelihood of unsub behavior escalating post-mortem examinations, but there’s a certain absentmindedness to the way he’s speaking—like he’s not entirely here.

And Emily Prentiss? She’s no fool.

So, as she turns onto the road leading toward the mortuary, she decides to go for it.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she starts, keeping her tone casual. “In fact, I haven’t for the past few years.” She glances at him and watches as his fingers tighten slightly on the folder. “But today felt different. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Spencer stills, his knee stopping mid-bounce before he forces it back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emily snorts. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that.”

Spencer purses his lips, shifting in his seat like he’s trying to physically move away from this conversation. “We have more important things to focus on right now.”

“Uh-huh,” Emily hums. “And yet, back at the station, you looked about one deep sigh away from crawling into her lap.”

Spencer stiffens. “That’s an exaggeration.”

Emily shrugs, smirking slightly. “Is it? Because from where I was standing, you were practically molded to her side.”

Spencer stays silent, glaring down at the folder like it’s personally offended him.

Emily softens, tilting her head. “Look, I’m not teasing you. I’m just asking—are you okay? Because I’ve seen you cling to her before when things get overwhelming, but today… it was different.” She hesitates. “You were different. She was different.”

Spencer swallows, pressing his lips together. He could brush it off. He could easily throw out some logical, cold dismissal. I was overstimulated, and she provided a familiar presence. There is nothing unusual about that, but the problem is, it is unusual.

Because for the first time, he noticed it.

Noticed how natural it felt, how good it felt, to be pressed against you. Noticed the way your touch lingered, how your fingers brushed his arm with a softness that made his skin buzz. Noticed how he felt safe, not just because you were familiar, but because he wanted to be close to you. Because he liked it.

And that? That realization is unraveling something in him he isn’t sure he’s ready for.

“I—” He hesitates, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

Emily watches him for a moment before nodding, letting the conversation settle for a few beats before she speaks again.

“You know,” she says, keeping her tone light. “You could always ask her.”

Spencer’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide, panicked. “Ask her what?”

Emily grins, eyes twinkling as she pulls into the mortuary parking lot.

“Oh, you know. On a date.”

Spencer makes a strangled noise of protest, but Emily is already unbuckling her seatbelt, pretending she doesn’t hear it.

She lets him stew in his thoughts and sit there with that panicked expression because honestly?

He needs to figure it out for himself.

—

Tuesday nights were for Star Trek, and Friday nights were for pizza and movies. It had started as something casual, a way to unwind after long days at work, but over time, it became an unspoken rule—a part of your week as consistent as waking up in the morning.

Tuesday nights meant curling up on your couch, debating over which Star Trek series to watch that week. Spencer always had his preferences—he loved The Original Series for its groundbreaking storytelling and The Next Generation for its philosophical depth—but he never protested when you picked Voyager because he knew how much you liked Captain Janeway. You didn’t always pay attention to the episodes the way he did, but you loved listening to him ramble, watching his eyes light up as he dissected the scientific inaccuracies or argued about the moral dilemmas presented in each episode.

And then there was Friday night—pizza and movie night.

Unlike Star Trek night, where Spencer usually held the reins, movie night was a battle. You had vastly different tastes—Spencer leaned toward old classics, noir films, and things with intricate plots that required full intellectual engagement. On the other hand, you sometimes just wanted to watch an over-the-top action flick, something fun and ridiculous.

“I don’t understand why we can’t watch Casablanca,” Spencer had complained one Friday, frowning at your choice of Die Hard.

“Because Casablanca is depressing, and I just want to watch Bruce Willis blow things up,” you’d argued, plopping onto the couch.

Spencer had grumbled but ultimately stayed, reluctantly eating his pizza while you enjoyed Die Hard a little too much.

But despite the friendly bickering, you both always showed up for each other. No matter how draining the week was or how heavy the cases got, Tuesday and Friday nights were yours. If one of you was too tired, the other brought food. If Spencer needed to visit his mom, he’d make you promise not to watch Star Trek without him. If you had a bad day, he let you pick the movie without a single complaint (except for that one time you picked Twilight, which he still refuses to acknowledge).

For years, it was just routine, something comfortable, something easy.

The case had finally wrapped up late Wednesday afternoon, and while you should have been relieved—grateful that everything ended as cleanly as possible—you were distracted. Off-kilter. Your mind wasn’t on the debriefing, the flight back to Quantico, or even the pile of paperwork waiting for you tomorrow.

No, your mind was stuck on him.

Spencer.

More specifically, the way you couldn’t seem to shake the lingering warmth of his body from when he had leaned against you, or the quiet, vulnerable way he had sighed into your shoulder, or the way Rossi’s words had wormed their way into your brain and stuck.

"You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time."

Damn him.

You were usually so good at compartmentalizing, at keeping your feelings neatly boxed up and shoved into the farthest corner of your mind where they couldn’t betray you. But now? Now, every little thing Spencer did had you spiraling.

Like right now.

Friday afternoon rolls around, and you’re already on edge.

When Spencer casually walks up to your desk, his messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, and his hands are tucked into his pockets, you already know you’re in trouble.

“Hey,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

You blink at him.

Wait. What?

Is he confirming plans? He hasn’t done that since the first month you started doing this—since he was still unsure if the ritual was set in stone. But now, after all this time, he’s asking?

Your heart starts hammering, palms go clammy.

“Yeah—yes,” you blurt out, nodding a little too fast. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

Spencer watches you carefully, clearly picking up on something being off. His brow furrows slightly, and he studies you with that damn profiler gaze, the one that makes you feel like he’s reading every single thought you’re desperately trying to bury.

“You okay?” he asks slowly.

You force a laugh. It comes out weird. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

His frown deepens.

Okay. You need to fix this before you combust.

You grab your phone off your desk and clear your throat. “So! What are we watching tonight?” you ask, trying to force the conversation forward before you completely unravel.

Spencer tilts his head slightly, still watching you with suspicion, but he lets it go.

“For our movie night? Or are you asking if we’re switching to a Star Trek episode lineup for some reason?”

You roll your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Movie night, obviously.”

He hums, his lips quirking slightly. “I figured it was my turn to pick.”

You groan dramatically. “Ugh. If this is another silent foreign film that you claim is ‘captivating,’ I’m kicking you out before the pizza even gets here.”

Spencer smirks. “It’s not silent.”

You narrow your eyes. “But it is foreign.”

Spencer just shrugs.

You groan again, shaking your head. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, I’m blaming you.”

He grins, and for a moment, just a moment, everything feels normal again.

Except it’s not.

Because now you’re noticing everything. The way he’s smiling at you, like he genuinely likes looking at you. The way he’s still standing a little too close, the scent of cologne you’ve never noticed mixing with the faint smell of old books and coffee. Your heart is pounding, not from panic anymore but from something else.

And Rossi’s voice echoes in your head—You’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to push the thought away.

Spencer is still looking at you, waiting, expectant.

You clear your throat. “So… my place at seven?”

He nods. “Your place at seven.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you gripping your desk, trying to convince yourself that your entire world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

—

The knock at the door makes your stomach drop.

You weren’t expecting it. Not from him.

Spencer never knocks. Not anymore. Not when he’s been coming here for years, slipping inside without hesitation, using the key you gave him so long ago that neither of you even remembers when it stopped being your apartment and started feeling like his, too.

But tonight, he knocks.

And for a moment, you just stare at the door, pulse pounding in your ears, a strange, unsettling panic twisting in your chest.

Why?

Why would he knock?

Did something happen? Did you do something? Did he?

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over the corner of the rug in your rush to reach the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob for half a second too long before you finally pull it open.

And there he is.

Standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking just as nervous as you feel.

He’s holding the pizza in both hands, gripping the box like it’s the only thing anchoring him. His lips are parted slightly as if he’s mid-thought, mid-explanation for why he’s standing here like a stranger instead of walking in like he always does.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is careful, deliberate. Like he’s testing the temperature of the air between you.

You swallow. “Why’d you knock?”

Spencer shifts, his fingers flexing against the cardboard. “I—” He exhales sharply, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wasn’t sure if I should just—if you wanted me to just come in.”

Your stomach twists. “You always just come in.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I just—” He stops, swallows, tries again. Spencer takes a breath, shifting his grip on the pizza box. “Can I come in?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the doorknob as you nod and step aside.

The warm glow of your living room wraps around Spencer like a familiar embrace. The scent of old books and candle wax lingers in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of fresh pizza. He’s holding the box carefully as if it were fragile or important. His fingers clutch the edges a little too tightly.

Something is different.

You feel it the moment he walks through the door, the way he hesitates on the threshold before closing it behind him. His usual easy presence is replaced with something unsure, something heavy that neither of you can quite name.

It’s never been awkward before.

But tonight, it is.

Maybe it’s the way he swallows before speaking or the way you feel hyper-aware of the space between you—space that’s usually nonexistent when you’re tangled up on the couch, watching whatever movie you finally agreed on after bickering for twenty minutes.

Maybe it’s the way his fingers brush against his wrist absentmindedly, rolling the hair tie between them, a habit you know means he’s feeling too much.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because something unspoken has been hanging in the air between you for a while now, something neither of you have dared to name.

Spencer sits down beside you, a little closer than usual but still not quite enough. His knee brushes against yours, and you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

“Movie?” you ask, trying to sound normal. Trying to push through the tension.

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t reach for the remote. Instead, he glances at you, searching your face, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something.

And for the first time in all the years of Friday pizza-and-movie nights, for the first time in all the comfortable silences and easy laughter, you think—

He might actually say what you’re both thinking.

But when Spencer finally does speak, it’s not what you expect. You blink at him, your brain short-circuiting.

"Do you want to watch 10 Things I Hate About You?"

It takes you a second to process the words because that is not what you were expecting.

For a moment, your grip tightens on the edge of the couch, your knuckles going white, and your heart still hammering from the sheer weight of what you thought he was about to say.

“What?” you finally spit out, voice higher than you’d like.

Spencer shifts awkwardly in his seat, clearing his throat as if he’s just realized how strange the moment is. “It’s… isn’t it your favorite rom-com?”

You stare at him. “Yeah… but I didn’t think you liked it.”

“I don’t dislike it,” he hedges, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “And, statistically speaking, if we’re ranking romantic comedies based on their adherence to Shakespearean influence, it’s arguably one of the better adaptations of Taming of the Shrew—”

You cut him off with a squint. “You’re rambling.”

He presses his lips together, a nervous habit, his fingers twitching slightly. “Right. Sorry.”

The air between you feels charged, like an unsaid truth is pressing against the walls, threatening to break them down. But instead of confronting it and saying whatever it is that’s clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue, Spencer is talking about rom-coms.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. “Okay, but… why? Why that movie? Why now?”

His eyes flicker up to yours then, just for a second, and there’s something raw, vulnerable, and uncertain.

And then, before you can decipher it, he shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Your heart clenches painfully because God, he’s so Spencer. Always thinking of you, noticing the smallest details, and looking out for you even when you don’t expect it.

And yet… there’s still something unspoken lingering between you, something simmering beneath the surface, something that almost came out before he took a sharp left turn into the world of 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Do you want to watch?” Spencer asks again in that vulnerable tone, lifting the movie case from his bag.

You exhale, rubbing your hands on your pants to wipe off the nervous sweat. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Spencer nods, but it’s almost hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure you’d say yes. He lingers for a second with the 10 Things I Hate About You DVD case in his hands, gripping it just as tightly as he had the pizza box moments ago.

You swallow, rubbing your palms against your pants again before reaching for the remote. “Uh, you can put it in.”

He moves toward the DVD player slowly, methodically, like he’s focusing on the action so he doesn’t have to focus on you. You watch him as he kneels down, sliding the disc into the tray, his fingers steady even though you know he isn’t.

The air between you is thick with something unspoken, a weight pressing on both of you, but neither of you acknowledges it. Instead, you wait as the movie boots up, the familiar menu music filling the quiet space between you.

Spencer hesitates before sitting, but it’s closer than usual when he does.

Not overly close—not close enough to make it obvious—but close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, close enough that his knee brushes yours again.

You pretend not to notice.

He pretends not to, either.

The movie starts, and for the first time, neither of you is watching it.

You’re too aware of him—the way he shifts slightly when you do, his fingers twitch against his knee like he’s trying not to reach out, and the way his breath catches ever so slightly when your arm brushes his.

Spencer doesn’t usually do this. He’s tactile when he’s overwhelmed, yes, but this? This is different. This is hesitation; this is awareness; this is something tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge of something neither of you has dared to touch before.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

So you try to focus on the movie, try to push through the nervous energy coiling in your stomach.

But then—

Then Spencer shifts, leans back against the couch, exhales softly—

And his arm drops, just slightly, around your shoulders.

Your heart stops.

You stare at the screen, unblinking, unsure if he even realizes what he’s done.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

The room feels different now. Warmer, heavier, charged with something neither of you have spoken aloud. You can’t tell if it’s the candlelight flickering in the dim space or if it’s just him, just this, whatever this is, settling around you like a second skin.

Spencer’s arm—his arm—is resting along the back of the couch, not quite on you, but close enough that you can feel its weight, close enough that if you shifted even the slightest bit, it would be.

You try to focus on the movie. Try to act like nothing’s changed.

But your body betrays you.

Your shoulders stiffen at first, instinctively, not because you don’t want this—God, you do—but because you don’t understand it. Because Spencer Reid does not do things like this. He does not reach out in this way, not unless he’s overwhelmed, and even then, it’s different. This is intentional, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

You inhale slowly, carefully, keeping your eyes trained on the screen as Kat Stratford delivers another sharp-witted insult. But you’re not really listening. You’re waiting. Waiting for Spencer to shift, realize what he’s done, pull back, laugh nervously, and pretend like nothing happened.

Except—

He doesn’t.

If anything, he seems more relaxed than before. His breathing is even, his body settling into the couch like he belongs there. Like you belong there.

And then, before you can stop yourself before you can overthink it like you always do, you shift. Just slightly. Just enough that your shoulder leans into his arm.

The movement is so small and insignificant that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t notice. But this is Spencer. And Spencer notices everything.

You hear the sharp inhale of breath and feel the way his body tenses just for a moment—just long enough to make your pulse hammer against your ribs—before he exhales slowly, deliberately.

And then—

Then his fingers brush against your shoulder.

A whisper of a touch, hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

So, he stays.

And for the rest of the movie, neither of you moves. Neither of you speak.

But everything, everything, has changed.

The credits roll. The music swells softly through the speakers. The dim glow of the screencasts flickering shadows across the room, but neither of you move.

Not even a little.

Your body is still pressed into his side, your shoulder tucked against him, his arm draped so loosely yet so deliberately around you that you can’t tell if it’s keeping you close or if it’s keeping him grounded.

Maybe both.

Maybe that’s what this has always been.

You don’t know how long you sit there, frozen in the moment. You don’t know if he’s thinking the same thing, if he’s waiting for you to speak, to move, to acknowledge that something unspoken has settled between you like a weighted silence.

But then—

“Y/N,” Spencer murmurs.

Just your name.

Soft. Almost careful.

You inhale sharply, blinking yourself back into the moment. Your head turns toward him slowly, cautiously, like moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile balance is hanging between you.

And then—

Spencer shocks you.

Because the second your eyes meet his, the moment your lips part in silent question—he leans in.

And he kisses you.

It’s not hesitant.

It’s not unsure.

It’s not like the Spencer Reid you thought you knew—the one who second-guesses, who overthinks, who analyzes every possibility before making a move.

No.

This is something else entirely.

This is Spencer moving without logic, without calculation, without fear.

This is Spencer wanting.

And for a split second, your brain short-circuits, unable to process what’s happening or understand how the man who had just spent two hours analyzing 10 Things I Hate About You is now kissing you like he means it.

But then—

Then you kiss him back.

And it’s over.

Whatever line had existed between you—whatever barrier had kept you from stepping over the edge—it's gone.

Spencer exhales against your lips like he’s been holding his breath for years. His fingers tighten against your shoulder, just slightly, pulling you in closer, pressing against you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not after this.

—

Dating Spencer is like stepping into something timeless, warm, and constant. It’s not rushed or overwhelming. It’s not dramatic or chaotic. It’s just Spencer. And that, in itself, is everything.

He doesn’t love convention. He doesn’t do big grand gestures unless they mean something. But he does the little things, the things that matter. The things that show how deeply and irrevocably he feels for you.

Like reading to you before bed.

It starts without much thought, just a quiet habit that becomes part of your nights. You never ask him to do it, and he never makes a point of it, but it happens—night after night, in the soft, dark quiet of your bedroom when the world slows, and nothing exists but the warmth of his arms and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

Some nights, it’s The Picture of Dorian Gray or a few pages from Pride and Prejudice. Other nights, it’s something entirely different—a passage about an old poet, a historical retelling of an artist’s life, something obscure and worn, a book he’s read a hundred times before. It doesn’t matter. You don’t even remember the contents most nights.

What you remember is the sound of Spencer’s voice, the way it lulls you into a hazy, comfortable state within minutes. The way his fingers draw lazy circles on your arm as he reads, absentmindedly tracing patterns like he can’t not be touching you. The way his lips brush the top of your head in soft, feather-light kisses like he’s saying goodnight without ever actually stopping the words on the page.

You never make it past a few minutes.

That’s how long it takes for his voice to pull you under, for the warmth of his chest to turn into a lullaby, for his steady breathing and gentle presence to quiet every thought in your mind.

And Spencer?

Spencer never minds.

Even when you fall asleep on him mid-sentence, even when his voice trails off and he realizes you’re gone, lost to dreams, he just smiles to himself, presses one last kiss to your temple, and quietly closes the book.

Because he loves this.

Loves you.

Even if he hasn’t said it yet.

—

You knew Spencer was good with kids—he had an innate gentleness, a patience that most adults didn’t possess. You had seen him with Jack before, seen the way he could calm a crying toddler with a few soft words and a fascinating fact about dinosaurs. But this? Watching him take care of a baby?

This is a whole different level.

JJ and Will had been desperate for a night out—just a few hours, nothing crazy—and with Garcia tied up at some tech conference, JJ hesitantly asked you and Spencer to watch Henry. She had barely finished asking before Spencer nodded, assuring her that he had plenty of experience with child development and cognitive growth.

Now, an hour into babysitting, you sit on the couch in quiet awe as Spencer moves around the living room, cradling Henry against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Statistically speaking, infants exposed to language early on are more likely to develop higher literacy skills in adolescence," Spencer muses softly, bouncing Henry gently in his arms as the baby babbles against his sweater. "So even though you might not understand this now, Henry, I think you'd really enjoy learning about the Fibonacci sequence when you’re older."

You stare, biting your lip to contain the ridiculous grin threatening to take over your face. "Spencer, are you seriously lecturing a one-year-old on mathematical sequences?"

Spencer glances at you, unfazed. "He seems interested."

Henry lets out a delighted squeal, gripping a fistful of Spencer’s cardigan and yanking with surprising strength.

"Ah—Henry, no, that's my—" Spencer stops mid-sentence as Henry starts giggling, his tiny fingers still tangled in the fabric. Instead of pulling away, Spencer just sighs in resignation, adjusting his hold so Henry can comfortably rest his cheek against his shoulder.

And oh, no.

Your heart is gone.

Your ovaries? Destroyed.

Because Spencer—sweet, brilliant, slightly awkward Spencer—is standing there in JJ’s living room, holding a baby like he was made for it, rubbing gentle circles on Henry’s back as he hums absentmindedly.

And you are not okay.

"You’re good at this," you murmur before you can stop yourself, watching how he instinctively shifts to sway Henry slightly, lulling him between sleep and contentment.

Spencer shrugs, but there’s a soft pink dusting his cheeks. "It’s just… knowing how to respond to their needs. Babies need security and reassurance. If they feel safe, they thrive." He glances at you then, his voice quieter. "It's not complicated."

But it is.

Because suddenly, your brain is not thinking about just this night. It’s not just thinking about babysitting Henry. It’s thinking about Spencer as a father, Spencer with his own baby in his arms, rocking them just like this, whispering facts to lull them to sleep, pressing soft kisses to their tiny forehead.

And the thought wrecks you.

JJ has no idea what she’s done by asking you to babysit.

Because now?

Now, you are painfully aware that Spencer Reid would be the best dad in the world.

And you really need to go splash cold water on your face before you say something insane.

The drive is quiet at first, a comfortable kind of silence, filled only with the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of Spencer shifting beside you. The weight of the night still lingers, the softness of it, the warmth—Spencer holding Henry, the easy way he’d cared for him, the way it had done things to you that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to name yet.

"Are you dropping me off," Spencer asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness, "or am I coming over?"

Your hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

The question is simple. Straightforward. But there’s something deeper beneath it, something unspoken. Because this isn’t the first time Spencer has stayed over. But tonight, with the way you’re feeling, with the way you want him—really want him—the meaning feels different.

Your pulse picks up.

You don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know what you want, but because you do.

Because you want him to come over. Because you want him in your bed for more than just resting. Because you’ve wanted it for a while now, but neither of you have crossed that line yet.

And suddenly, it feels like Spencer knows exactly what you’re thinking.

He’s watching you, quiet, observant, his fingers resting lightly against his knee as he waits for your response. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry—he just waits.

You swallow, exhaling slowly before finally speaking. "Come over."

Spencer doesn’t say anything at first. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his lips are pressed together, his fingers twitching slightly—nervous energy, anticipation, something else.

"Okay," he says finally, voice quiet but firm.

And that’s all.

You don’t talk for the rest of the drive.

But you feel everything.

The way his hand rests between you is so close to yours but not quite touching. The way your breaths sync up is slow but uneven, charged with something you both know is coming.

When you finally pull into your parking spot, turn off the car, and steal one last glance at him, Spencer doesn’t hesitate.

He just unbuckles his seatbelt, pushes open the door, and follows you inside.

Spencer follows without hesitation but doesn’t move past the doorway immediately. He lingers, standing just inside your apartment, watching as you set your keys down on the counter, as you exhale slowly, as you try to steady yourself against the weight of what this night is turning into.

You turn back to him then, and the sight of him standing there—hands tucked into his pockets, shifting slightly on his feet, looking at you like he’s trying so hard to figure out what happens next—makes your stomach flip.

He’s waiting for you.

Waiting for permission.

You take a step forward, closing some of the space between you. Spencer watches you carefully, his breath hitching just slightly, his fingers twitching where they rest at his sides.

Spencer nods. Swallows. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks, “Are we just sleeping?”

The question hangs between you, thick with implication, and that’s when it happens—the shift from nervous anticipation to something else.

You step closer again, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough that if either of you moved just slightly, you’d be touching.

And then, softly, hesitantly, you reach for his wrist, fingers brushing against the skin just above the hair tie he still wears, the one you gave him so long ago.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to just sleep?”

Spencer’s breath catches. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back up again.

“No,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

And that’s all it takes.

Because suddenly, you’re kissing him.

Or maybe he kisses you—you don’t know who moves first, don’t care, because all that matters is the way his hands are suddenly on your waist, pulling you closer, the way his lips part against yours, slow and deep and wanting.

It’s different from the previous kisses you have shared. And as his hands slide up your back, as you press yourself into him like you’ve been waiting forever for this, as he exhales sharply against your mouth because he’s finally getting to have you—

You know neither of you will be getting much sleep tonight.

The first time you and Spencer had sex was nothing short of mind-blowing—at least for him.

You hadn’t known just how little experience he had until later when he mumbled something against your skin about only having done this once before, his voice laced with disbelief and something like awe.

But it wouldn't have changed anything even if you had known beforehand. It had started so slow, like neither of you wanted to rush like you were both trying to memorize each other in ways you hadn’t been able to before.

Spencer had been nervous at first—not clumsy, not hesitant in a way that made you think he didn’t want this, but careful, intentional, like he wanted to make sure he was doing everything right. Like he was terrified of messing up, of not being enough.

But God, was he more than enough.

Because once he got past the nerves, once he stopped thinking and started feeling—

It was everything.

He touched you like he was discovering something new like he was learning you in real time. His fingers mapped the soft curves of your body, memorizing the way your breath hitched when he kissed your neck and how you sighed when his hands gripped your waist.

And when you guided him, when you whispered what you liked against his lips when you told him exactly how to move—

That was when he really fell apart.

Because Spencer thrives on knowledge, learning, on understanding. And now, he was learning you—learning what made you shiver, what made you moan, what made you clutch at his shoulders and gasp his name in a way that sent a shudder through him so deep he thought he might break apart completely.

By the time you were actually together, when he finally slid inside you with a deep, shaky moan, his hands gripping your hips like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—he knew.

He knew he was ruined for anything else.

Because nothing—not the one experience he had before, not the books he had read, not the theories or statistics—could have ever prepared him for this.

For you.

And when he came undone, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and ragged, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer—

It was the closest thing to heaven he had ever known.

You pulled Spencer on top of you without hesitation, letting his exhausted body flop onto yours, his full weight pressing you into the mattress in the best possible way. He didn’t resist or try to roll away or give you space—he just let himself be and melt into you like he belonged there.

You traced slow, lazy shapes on his bare, sweat-slicked back, feeling the way his breathing gradually evened out, the rise and fall of his chest pressing against yours in a steady rhythm. His damp curls tickled your skin where his face was buried against your neck, but you didn’t dare move. You liked having him close like this.

Then you felt it—Spencer taking a deep breath like he was about to say something important.

His voice was muffled, soft, still laced with lingering wonder as he exhaled against your skin.

“Did… was that good for you?”

You smiled at the ceiling, your fingers still tracing mindless patterns along his spine. He was too cute. Too him.

“It was amazing, Spencer.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him tense slightly, his arms tightening around your waist as he let out a small, almost sheepish exhale.

“I’m sorry it was over so quickly.”

You laughed, tilting your head so you could press a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Spencer, you have nothing to apologize for.”

He huffed, shifting slightly so his face was visible again, his flushed cheeks still pressed against your skin. “But I—”

“Nope.” You cut him off before he could finish whatever self-deprecating thought was about to leave his mouth. “I loved it. And besides…” You trailed your fingers down his spine, feeling the shiver it sent through him. “Now that the nerves are out of the way, we’ve got all night to take our time.”

Spencer froze for half a second before lifting his head just enough to look at you properly, his eyes wide, dark, needy.

“All night?” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked, fingers tightening ever so slightly on his back. “Mmmhmm.”

And just like that—

Spencer wasn’t exhausted anymore.

The night stretched long and slow, turning into early morning, and in those quiet, intimate hours, you discovered things—things that made you grin, things that made Spencer writhe, things that neither of you had ever put words to before but suddenly felt so obvious now.

Like hickeys.

Spencer really liked hickeys.

You hadn’t meant to leave one, not at first. But the moment your lips latched onto the sensitive skin of his neck, the second your teeth scraped lightly against his pulse point, Spencer let out a sound that was almost embarrassing—a sharp, gasping whine that had his fingers digging into your waist, his hips bucking up against you without thought.

And just like that, you knew.

“You like that?” you murmured against his skin, already smirking, already marking another spot just below his jaw.

Spencer shivered violently, his breath stuttering, his grip on you tightening. “I—” He cut himself off with a choked noise, arching into you again.

Yeah. He definitely liked it.

And then there was the other discovery that made your entire night.

Spencer was a certified bottom.

He liked giving up control, liked you taking the lead, liked it when you moved on top of him, guiding him, making him fall apart underneath you.

And oh, he thrived in it.

Especially when your hands threaded into his hair, whispered things to him, and praised him in that sweet, teasing tone that made him whimper.

And God, the way his hands roamed when you were on top—

Which led to the third discovery of the night.

Spencer was a tits guy.

Sure, he loved all of you—he worshipped every inch of you with those big, eager hands, his lips, his tongue, taking his time, savoring you like he had all the time in the world.

But your boobs?

Those really got him going.

Maybe it was because of the angle, the way they bounced when you moved, or maybe it was the way they fit so perfectly in his hands, how he could squeeze, cup, and knead them just the way he liked.

Maybe it was the fact that he could bury his face in them, groaning as he nuzzled into your chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your skin, mumbling about how perfect you were, how soft, how he never wanted to stop.

And when you realized?

When you teased him about it?

He turned a deep shade of red, sputtering something about biological instincts and aesthetic appeal, but the second you rolled your hips and dragged his hands back to your chest, his words died completely.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, his head thudding back against the pillow, his fingers squeezing you almost desperately.

And yeah—

You really liked that discovery, too.

—

Spencer had barely stepped into the bullpen when Derek’s booming voice rang through the air like a damn foghorn.

"Pretty boy!"

Spencer flinched. He knew that tone. That taunting, giddy, Derek-is-about-to-ruin-your-life tone.

And then—before Spencer could so much as blink—Derek was grinning at him, full teeth, eyes sparkling with absolute mischief as he pointed directly at Spencer’s neck.

“Oh no,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, instinctively reaching up as if he could somehow erase the evidence.

But it was too late. Because Derek had seen it. The hickey.

The hickey.

The one you had left on him Saturday night. Or was it Sunday morning? Honestly, it didn’t even matter—what mattered was that he had forgotten to cover it up, and now? Now, Derek was never going to let him live this down.

“Damn, kid,” Derek laughed, sauntering over with the confidence of a man who lived for this kind of teasing. “So you are gettin’ some.”

Spencer groaned, his entire face going up in flames. “Derek—”

“Nah, nah, don’t even try to deny it,” Derek interrupted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “That is a grade-A hickey, man. I’m talkin’ official, stamped, certified ‘this man is gettin’ wrecked’ level.”

“Derek, please,” Spencer hissed, glancing around desperately as if he could somehow stop this from escalating.

Too bad the damage was already done. Because JJ and Penelope were already staring. And then laughing. Loudly.

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, practically shrieking with delight. “Spencer! Look at you! Our boy is all grown up and getting marked up like a romance novel protagonist!”

“Okay, stop,” Spencer pleaded, feeling absolutely doomed.

JJ just smirked, sipping her coffee like this was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. “So, how was your weekend?”

Spencer exhaled sharply, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and making a beeline for his desk, determined to escape. “I hate all of you.”

Derek just grinned, following after him with his arms crossed. “Nah, Pretty Boy, you love us. Just not as much as you love your girl—who, by the way, did some damage on you, man. She got territorial.”

Spencer slammed his forehead onto his desk with a loud thud. JJ and Penelope cackled. Derek patted him on the back like he had just won something. And Spencer?

Spencer knew damn well that this was never going away.

—

Spencer was always composed. Always Spencer. Polite, intelligent, articulate. The type of man who didn’t act impulsively, who thought through everything before making a move.

Except, apparently, when it came to you.

Because when it came to you, Spencer had no self-control.

And nowhere was that more apparent than tonight—right now—when he had you pressed up against the bar in the middle of a crowded room, his lips hot against your neck, his hands resting just a little too low on your waist, and his very obvious boner grinding against your ass.

This was not the Spencer the team knew. This was not the awkward, hesitant genius who stumbled over his words and overanalyzed his every move.

No, this Spencer was different.

This Spencer wanted you, and he didn’t care who saw.

This Spencer also happened to be a few glasses of champagne deep in his birthday celebration with the team.

“Spencer,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the bar for support as another firm roll of his hips had heat coiling low in your stomach.

He hummed against your neck, his lips still moving, still marking you in the same way he had been since he discovered how much he loved leaving hickeys on you.

“Hmm?” he murmured, voice low, dragging his tongue lightly over the fresh mark before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against it.

Your grip tightened on the bar. “We’re in public,” you reminded him, but your voice was breathy, weak, barely convincing.

Spencer chuckled—actually chuckled—against your skin, his fingers flexing against your hips. “And?”

And?

And?

You blinked, stunned by his sheer audacity, by the fact that Spencer Reid was grinding up against you in a public bar like he had every right to.

Like he owned you.

And maybe he did.

You hated to stop him. God, you hated it.

But Spencer was too drunk.

It wasn’t that he was wasted—Spencer didn’t drink often, and when he did, he rarely overindulged—but tonight, between rounds of celebratory drinks with the team and the way he had relaxed into your presence, he was just tipsy enough that his usual inhibitions were gone.

And normally, you wouldn’t mind. Normally, you’d love seeing him like this, out of his shell, more bold in his affections. But Spencer was intoxicated, and you were sober, and you refused—refused—to take advantage of that. 

So, with a deep breath, you gently pried his hands off your waist, turning around to face him fully.

“Spencer,” you murmured, voice soft but firm.

He blinked, slow and dazed, his lips swollen from where he had been so intent on marking you up. “Huh?”

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing against his flushed cheeks. “We need to get you home, okay?”

His brows furrowed. “But—”

“No ‘buts,’” you interrupted, kissing his cheek quickly before pulling away completely. “Come on, before Derek starts making bets about whether you’ll take shots with him.”

Spencer groaned, looking devastated—like a scolded puppy who had just been denied his favorite treat. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to pull you back, but even in his inebriated state, he listened.

With one last longing look at you, he sighed. “Fine.”

You smiled, taking his hand and leading him back to the group. The second you announced, “I’m taking Spencer home,” a chorus of hoots and hollers erupted from your friends.

Derek practically howled with laughter. “Damn, Pretty Boy, she’s gotta put you to bed already?”

“I hate all of you,” Spencer grumbled as Penelope cackled.

JJ smirked into her drink. “Don’t forget to hydrate him.”

“Oh, I will,” you assured her, rolling your eyes as you steered Spencer toward the door.

After a few more teasing remarks and one last dramatic wolf whistle from Derek, you managed to load Spencer into the passenger seat of your car.

As soon as you pulled out of the parking lot, you reached for the stereo and turned on classical music—something calming that would hopefully settle the restless energy still buzzing under Spencer’s skin.

And sure enough, within minutes, he was already melting into the seat, head lolling to the side as the soft notes of Debussy filled the quiet space.

You smiled to yourself, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Almost home, Spence,” you murmured.

He sighed deeply, squeezing back. “You’re the best,” he mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion.

The rest of the night had been easy enough—getting Spencer home, guiding his sleepy, clingy self into bed, listening to him mumble drunken nonsense as you pulled the covers over him. He had curled around you the second you lay down beside him, burying his face in your neck, sighing deeply as if you were the cure to whatever hangover awaited him in the morning.

Before you had drifted off, you had set up a glass of water and some painkillers on his bedside table, making sure everything he needed would be right there when he woke up.

Now, in the golden light of morning, you were sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, reading while Spencer slowly resurfaced from his alcohol-induced slumber.

He stirred first, shifting slightly under the sheets, letting out a sleepy little grunt before blinking blearily up at you.

For a moment, he just stared.

His hair was a complete mess, curls sticking up in every direction, and his face was still warm and soft from sleep. His lips parted slightly, his eyes unfocused as he tried to piece together where he was, why he felt like this, and why the hell you looked so perfectly content beside him while he felt like his brain was swimming in molasses.

“…Morning,” he croaked, voice raw from sleep.

You glanced down at him, smiling over the top of your book. “Morning, baby.”

He blinked slowly, still processing. Then, realization dawned—the bar, the teasing, you dragging him home like an overgrown toddler.

He groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his face. “I was drunk.”

You laughed softly, closing your book and setting it aside. “Yep.”

He peeked out from under his arm, his lips twitching slightly. “Did I…?”

“You were very affectionate in public,” you teased, shifting to face him. “Like, very affectionate.”

Spencer made a noise between a groan and a laugh, rubbing his face. “Derek’s never going to let me live this down, is he?”

“I didn’t let anybody see, Spence.”

He sighed dramatically before turning his head to look at you again, his expression softening. His eyes flickered to the bedside table, taking in the water and painkillers, the small gesture that made something warm and fond settle in his chest.

“You took care of me,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course I did.”

Spencer didn’t say anything momentarily, just looking at you like he was trying to memorize you in the morning light. Then, without warning, he reached for you, pulling you down into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin, voice still thick with sleep.

Your heart stopped.

Completely.

Frozen in time, in this moment, in him.

Spencer had said it. So casually, so effortlessly, like it had always been there, sitting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to slip out. Like it wasn’t something earth-shattering, something that made your breath catch and your entire world tilt.

You barely breathed as you whispered, "You love me?"

You felt his lips curve slightly against your skin—soft, sleepy, so sure.

"I love you," he repeated, voice muffled but certain, like it wasn’t even a question in his mind. Like it never had been.

The warmth of his words settled over you, seeping into every inch of your skin, curling around your heart like the softest, safest thing you’d ever known.

Suddenly, you were moving, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands and tilt his head so that his eyes met yours—still drowsy, still heavy with sleep, but so incredibly full. You smiled, soft and disbelieving like you couldn’t believe you had gotten this lucky. Like you couldn’t believe he was yours.

"I love you, too."

Spencer blinked, like it was his turn to freeze like his still-sleepy brain was trying to process that you had said it back. Then he smiled—wide and beautiful, the kind of smile that made his dimples show, the kind of smile that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

And without another word, he kissed you.

Slow, deep, certain.

Like he had just decided—right here, right now—that he was never letting you go.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[currrsy]

THE OTHER SIDE

This post is about my OC's and the story about them! I have two settings, and this one is about "The Other Side", a horror drama about Floyd Bennett. CHARACTERS:

PLOT: In 2005, the main character, Floyd Bennett, a horror writer, moves to a quiet town called name and settles into a new big house. In the past, Floyd experienced a tragedy — he lost his wife and daughter in a fire. After several years, Bennett decides to start a new life by moving to a different place and fully immersing himself in writing.

After moving, Floyd explores the town and meets the local sheriff's assistant, David Sanders, at a store. David gives him his phone number in case Floyd needs help.

A few days later, Floyd begins to feel worse living in the new house: his migraines worsen, he often has nosebleeds, and he hears various sounds, as if someone is walking around the house, etc.

One day, he encounters a woman named Samantha near the yard, who tries to warn Floyd to leave the house. Bennett doesn’t listen to her, and Samantha leaves, saying that he is making a big mistake. Over time, Floyd's health deteriorates significantly. In the bathroom mirror, he notices the silhouette of a man with a slit throat.

Floyd perceives this as a hallucination and decides to just go to sleep. He dreams of a nightmare in which he gets a hand injury. Waking up in the middle of the night, he discovers that the injury is real. He decides to call David in the middle of the night to check the house. Upon arrival, David listens to everything that has happened to Floyd. He concludes that the writer's imagination has simply run wild and that he needs to rest. As David prepares to leave, he finds he cannot open the front door. Other doors are also locked, and the lights in the house stop working. Something does not want to let them out. Eventually, they encounter the man Floyd saw in the mirror; a long-haired man with a slit throat is approaching them. The walls of the house bleed, and objects shake and fall. In an instant, everything stops, and complete darkness descends.

When they come to, the men notice that the house has changed significantly: there are more rooms, the corridors have deformed and elongated. In simple terms, everything looks like a nightmare. They cannot find a way out, so they are left to explore the strange place (the other side) in hopes of finding another exit.

[lumiambrose]

✰ full house

the devils month - day thirtyone

featuring: jing yuan x den heng il x blade x f!reader

summary: the general's "old friends" pay him a visit, where they get to meet you, his cute little toy for the first time.

tags: smut, foursome/gangbang, choking, spitting, implied squirting, face fucking, praise, degredation, p in v, finishing inside, triple penetration, dan heng has two cocks fight me.

wc: 3.5k

your arrangement with the general is quite simple. he makes sure you don’t get drafted into the cloud knights, despite your family's wishes, and in return, you keep him company. you see, being general is quite a straining duty, and therefore the jing yuan rarely has free time of his own; hence, relationships and intimacy are almost unknown to him. of course, until you came along. your little deal has been going on for a while now; it has almost been a year since it started, and life is great. he dresses you up, treats you to the finest dishes in the luofu and makes your eyes roll back in the best way possible.

the only “downside” is that you can’t deny his sexual advantages, but ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re in need of good dick anyways. today is no exception.

right now you’re lounging in the general’s office while he’s managing some paperwork. your day had been mostly uneventful—that was until the doors to his office abruptly opened. in walk 2 men, one with dark hair and a sour expression, the other definitely a vhidyadara, with a more neutral expression. despite your shock, the general doesn’t seem fazed at all. in fact, he seems quite happy. he gives them a short nod as they enter his office, taking in the familiar room and making themselves at home.

it’s not long until their eyes settle on you, confused as to what a mere thing like you is doing in the great general's office.

“what is that doing in here?” the dark-haired man spouts, clearly unimpressed by your presence.

the general lets out a chuckle, “her? don’t mind her. she’s simply keeping me company.” he finally looks up, doing a one-over on the three of you, giving you a short smile as he turns back to face his friends.

“how unbecoming of you, dear general. keeping a concubine at your disposal,” the dark haired man gestures dismissively in your direction, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between him and the general.

jing yuan steps away from his desk, making his way down to the lower area of his office, past his friends, and to the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “now, now, blade, no need to be so aggressive,” he grips your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. “or are you perhaps jealous? she’s quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

the man you now know as blade scoffs, rolling his eyes at the display. "jealous? i have no reason to be." he stalks closer, looming over the two of you on the couch. "i just think it's pathetic, is all. a man of your stature, reduced to rutting with some common whore."

the other man finally speaks up, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "enough. it’s not our position to interfere in jing yuan’s affairs." he steps forward, making his way to the sofa. "although, i must agree, she’s quite a stunning catch, general."

jing yuan smiles, his gaze never leaving yours as he addresses his friends. "indeed, den heng, she is quite stunning. and very talented as well." his hand slides higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing teasing patterns against your skin. “especially on her knees.”

dan heng chuckles, his teal eyes glinting ever so slightly. "i can certainly see the appeal." he takes a seat on the other side of you, his large frame dwarfing your own. "perhaps we should stay and enjoy the general's hospitality a while longer, hmm?"

blade looks like he wants to object, but something in jing yuan's expression stops him. he settles for a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "fine. but make sure your whore behaves herself.”

you do your best to pay blade no attention, instead glancing over at the two men on either side of you. the general's touch is igniting a familiar heat in your core, letting sinful thoughts fill your head. a blush slowly creeps up your cheeks.

dan heng notices your reaction, a slow smile spreading across his face. "looks like the lady is eager to please." his hand joins jing juan's on your thigh, teasing your smooth skin.

jing yuan hums in agreement, his thumb brushing over your clothed sex. "mmm, indeed she is. and i aim to take advantage of that." he meets your gaze, his dark eyes smouldering with promise. "would you like that, dear? to have us use this slutty little body of yours?”

your breath hitches, your hips shifting restlessly under their combined touch. "yes," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "please, i want... i want you.” you lock eyes with blade, looking down on you. “no—i need you. all of you,” you plead, catching his attention too.

jing yuan grins, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in your pleading expression. "Such a needy little slut, aren't you?" his hand slides beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your damp panties. "don't worry, sweetheart. i promise by the end of the night, you’ll be fucked dumb by us.”

dan heng chuckles, his own hand joining jing yuan's beneath your skirt. "indeed, we'll make sure this slutty little body of yours gets the thorough fucking it deserves." he presses a finger against your clothed sex, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

even blade seems to be wavering at the sight of your needy expression, his gaze specifically drawn to the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips. "i suppose there's no harm in indulging a bit," he mutters, moving closer to the sofa.

jing yuan smirks, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. "good girl. now, let's get these off, shall we?" he tugs the flimsy fabric down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly. “now on your knees, my pretty slut.”

you comply, of course, moving to kneel before them. jing yuan grins, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in your body beneath him. "that's it, my little slut. on your knees where you belong." his hand slides into your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he guides your head towards his crotch.

dan heng mirrors his actions, his own hand fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer to his own clothed erection. "open wide, whore. gonna use this pretty mouth of yours."

blade watches from the sidelines, his expression a mix of disgust and reluctant arousal. but as your tongue darts out to wet your lips, he seems to discard his hate. with a muttered curse, joins the other men, unfastening his pants and freeing his hardening cock.

jing yuan smirks, his grip on your hair tightening as he frees his cock, just before pulling you to face his member. "suck," he commands, his voice rough with need. "go on, show us what that slutty mouth can do."

you part your lips, allowing him to slide his throbbing length into your mouth. you moan around his length, the taste of his precum coating your tongue as you begin to bob your head.

dan heng grunts, his own cock twitching with anticipation as he watches you service jing yuan. "fuck, pretty," he breathes, grabbing your right hand and dragging it to palm his erection. "c’mon, keep me busy with your hands."

you fumble with his pants, messily freeing his erection, no—erections. you can only spare him a quick glance, given how your face is busy taking jing yuan. but you can feel it nonetheless—two hardened lengths grazing your fingers, and they’re big. you alternate between the two cocks, stroking and playing with them, eliciting sweet sounds from the dragon while you’re bobbing on the general's length.

blade steps closer, his expression unreadable as he watches you work. but as jing yuan pulls you off him, your mouth parting with a wet pop, he seems to make up his mind. he grips your face roughly, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"you want all of us, slut?" he growls, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "then open up. i'm going to fuck this pretty little mouth until you're choking on my cock."

he doesn’t wait for a response; instead, he thrusts forward, forcing his thick length past your lips. he’s much larger than you expected, making you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat, but he doesn't relent. his hips snap, meeting your face as he fucks it with brutality. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe, but in all honesty, you’re quite enjoying the situation before you with the three men.

while your attention is divided between the vhidyadara and hunter, jing yuan takes matters into his own hands. kneeling down to meet your level, he starts to tug at your robes. his movements start off delicate, trying not to ruin the expensive garments he bought for you. but to no dismay, he’s not making any progress. he lets out a muttered curse under his breath as he opts to rip the garments instead, desperate to see your naked body displayed for him.

the rough motion makes you squeal around blade’s length, getting quite the reaction out of him as his grip on your face tightens, fucking you harder. the cool air hits your body hard, instantly sending a shiver throughout your entire body. jing yuan's hungry gaze rakes over your exposed self, his hands skim over your curves, his touch possessive and demanding as he pulls you flush against him, away from the other men.

he swiftly picks you up, holding you in his firm arms while he moves you according to his will. he throws you down on the now-free sofa, with your ass up in the air. ever the generous general, he gestures to his two old friends, offering your body to them. “go on, pretty. be a good whore for us,” he coos as he watches from a distance, hand fisting his cock. “you gonna be a good girl and let them fuck you silly, hm?”

your response comes out in ragged breaths, due to the harsh treatment from not just the general—but his friends too. "please," you whimper, locking eyes with dan heng, pleading as you look up at him. "fuck me. use me like the slut I am.”

your pleading expression makes dan heng's eyes darken with lust, his gaze roaming over your exposed body with a sense of hunger that he doesn’t even try to hide. "such a needy little whore," he growls, stalking closer to your body. "begging for our cocks like a bitch in heat.”

he grips your hips, his large hands spanning your waist as he positions himself behind you. you can feel one of his thick lengths pressing against your wet cunt, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate touches.

jing yuan chuckles darkly from his position in front of the sofa, his hand still fisting himself. "indeed, she is. my pretty little slut, so desperate to be filled and used."

blade scoffs, finding his place at your face once again, his expression emphasises the digust in his eyes as he towers over you. "pathetic," he spits, though his hips keep on thrusting forward, his cock sliding against your cheek. "reduced to rutting with a common whore." despite his harsh words, you can feel his length twitch against your skin, smearing his precum all over your face. you lick a small droplet on the corner of your lips, tasting the salty liquid before peppering him with kitten licks.

your desperation is evident at this point. den heng’s grip on your hips tightens as he grinds against you. "fuck, such a slutty little cunt," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "i bet you'd let anyone fuck your tight little holes, wouldn't you?"

his words send a shiver down your spine, your stomach clenching as he teases your entrance with one of his cocks, while the other rubs your sensitive nub perfectly. you're so close to being filled, your body aching for the stretch of cock.

jing yuan seems to sense your desperation as well, his hand sliding up your back as he leans in close. "Mmm, such a wet little cunt," he groans, his thumb circling your clit. "I bet she'll let us do anything we want to her, won't you, my pretty slut?"

replying seems impossible at this point, so instead, you push your hips further against him, grinding any friction you can get while you moan around blade’s length. you don’t look behind you, but you can hear a condescending tsk from dan heng’s direction. although you’re taken aback as you feel something light trail up your back, you do your best to ignore it; you can only manage for so long.

you try to turn around to see what’s tickling your delicate skin. but before you can catch a glimpse, the same mysterious object wraps around your face. its ends are soft as it slithers down to your neck, tightening around it, making you gasp for air. it’s then that you realise that it’s his tail—he’s a vhidyadara, of course; it only makes sense for him to have one.

it’s with the movement of his tail that he finally enters you, pushing into your tight cunt at a painfully slow pace, making you feel every burn from being stretched around his cock. you cry out at the sensation, “oh, fuck!” you gasp, your body shaking from being so full. “s-so big! so full—”

he smirks at the way your body is shaking, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your slick folds while the other continues to perfectly rub your clit. "that's it, take it all, you little whore," he growls, his hips snapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. "this is what you wanted, isn't it? to be stuffed full of cock?"

jing yuan, watching from the best view in the house, chuckles darkly in front of you, the pace he set on himself slowly speeding up. "indeed, she is. my pretty little slut, desperate to be used like a cheap whore."

blade is surprisingly quiet, letting out grunts here and there as he continues to fuck your face, mesmerised by your wet eyes looking up at him. you bat your eyes at him like a helpless dear, which only made him harder, showing no mercy as he fucks your throat even harder. occasionally landing a few slaps to your poor cheeks. he’s close, so he grabs you by the hair and pushes you down on his cock one last time.

“dumb bitch,” he breathlessly spits. “take it all, you fucking slut,” with that, he lets out what you can only assume is a low moan as he empties his load down your throat.

he pulls away from your mouth, a trail of saliva dangling between his cock and your lips. “open,” he commands.

you part your lips for him, showing the cum mixed with your own spit inside your mouth. to your surprise, blade leans down, spitting there too, mixing his own saliva with yours. “swallow,” of course, you do. leaving him somewhat satisfied. “what an obedient slut, good bitch.”

after licking the remains of blade’s cum off your face, the grip around your neck pulls you up so you’re standing on your knees. to your dismay, dan heng pulls out, leaving you completely empty. you whine out, disappointed in the three men. that is, until jing yuan grabs hold of your fragile body, lifting you up to place you on top of him as he sits down on the sofa.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he coos, feigning pity. “are you that desperate for my cock?” he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “well go on, ride my cock. fuck yourself dumb for me, okay?” in an instance, you’re shifting your weight to slowly sink yourself down on his cock, letting out a loud cry as you completely sit down on him. although as you try to move, you find yourself being blocked once more, by that familiar feeling around your neck.

dan heng, who makes his presence evident behind you, grips your ass while he whispers into your ear. “not yet, silly girl. thought you wanted to be stuffed full, ain’t that right?” one of his hands is now holding his cocks, aligning the first with the very same hole that jing yuan is occupying and the other with your, currently empty hole.

he pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust. you’ve never been so full before. part of you thinks you should be worried; at this rate, they’ll probably break you. but this is what you asked for, no? so you sit there and take it like a good cocksleeve, your limits being tested as dan heng finally bottoms out inside of you, placing a small kiss to the back of your head. “good girl,” he whispers. “so good at taking cock, aren’t you?”

instead of riding the general as he initially planned, he grips your hips, hoisting you up so he can instead thrust inside of you, moving at a brutally mean pace. normally, this would be fine. he’s trained you to be the perfect fucktoy for him. but as you’re currently finding out, taking him and two other cocks is quite the challenge.

you cry out, your slutty moans filling his office. at this point, you’re definitely loud enough for the guards stationed outside to hear you, but they know better than to interrupt the generals ‘private’ affairs. you’re crying, tears streaming down, landing on your breasts. you can’t even think straight; even if you could, what the hell are you supposed to think about when you’re so full of cocks.

your pleasure only heightens when you feel a new sensation, something wet and hot gliding across your breasts. you manage to spare a teary glance to realise that it’s blade. sitting next to your general, he leans in closer, lapping up the tears that fall onto your plush tits all whilst stroking himself.

it’s all too much, you can feel your orgasm approaching you rapidly. and apparently, your general can too. “what’s this, pretty?” he murmurs in a lustful tone. “you like being used by multiple men that much? you gonna cum f’me? cream mine and den hengs cocks?” his breath etching into the sides of your neck is only pushing you further; the hot heat making your sensitive skin feel like it’s set ablaze. “go on then. make a mess for me, my pretty little slut.”

you didn’t even notice until it was too late, but during the general's words, the vhidyadara man found his own release. his hot cum spurting out of both cocks, filling you up in both holes. he’s a mess, groaning and moaning at the sensation of being milked dry, babbling into your other ear about how you’re such a pretty concubine.

of course, he won’t pull out just yet, though. i mean, the very concubine herself hasn’t come yet. despite the overstimulation, he keeps going, fucking his cum deep inside of you while he whispers into your ear. “just like that. taking us so well, aren’t you?”

you’re quite desperate yourself; the grip you have on jing yuan is much stronger than before, leaving crescent marks all over his biceps as you grind into the cocks. you’re so close, you can practically already feel it.

whether it was den heng’s whiny moan in your ears, blade’s teeth biting your sesitive nipple, or jing yuan hitting that one spot that makes you see stars, your orgasm hits you hard. harder than ever, if you dare say so. you scream out, moaning the general's name as your vision goes blurry for a moment, gushing out all over jing yuan’s lap and definitely the sofa. the way you’re clenching around him is also enough to send him over the edge, fucking his cum deep inside of you as he rides out his own high. and of course, blade, who’s watching the entire scenario unfold before him, pulls you to face him. your tits are on full display as he shoots his load all over them, letting it drip down your aching body.

collapsing on top of jing yuan, you finally have a moment to catch your breath. you’re covered in sweat and heaving hard as dan heng pulls out and makes himself comfortable on the sofa. you though, decide to stay and rest on your general, cock still inside of you, keeping the cum from earlier sealed. he himself is also out of breath, dazed expression falling across his face. he seems satisfied, but that’s not all. you’re sure you can sense something else in his eyes.

your thoughts are confirmed as he clears his throat. “good girl,” his voice is low, tickling the area next to your ear. “you took us so well, you really are my perfect little cocksleeve.” he sends a reassuring smile your way as he tucks a stray piece of hair away from your face. although, his gaze quickly shifts into something… darker as the hand on your hip slowly trails down to the curve of your ass.

“so well that it’s only fair we return the favour…” he holds your chin gently and you lock eyes with him once more. “isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network thank you @katsutora for proof reading <3

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one—he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[shehungers]

CARNAL

werewolf husband x reader | 18+ | 3k

your husband is a painter who makes a meager, but comfortable living for you both creating portraits for nobles. his love of painting stems from his adoration of the night sky and the moon. he disappears one night and returns three days later—changed, distant, aggressive, and ravenous. not long after, you discover the reason for his behaviors and face the consequences of curiosity.

story warnings; dead dove do not eat, dubcon, explicit sexual content, explicit details of genitalia (werewolf), breeding, knotting, kinda cockwarming??, mentions of feeling "bloated", cumshot on body, brief piss kink mention, size difference, brief handjob, mc gets head a few times lmao, classism, mc is kinda a shitty spouse in this, detail + prose heavy (extreme), roughly proofread — you are warned.

so, this all started when I was talking to @/peachdues about her fic and idk, knotting has just been in my head since. awesome. now it's out of my system, I hope 😭

this is also my first official new piece of writing on this blog! everything before this has been reposts of older work. hopefully it doesn't disappoint!!!

would love, love, love to hear your feedback! reblogs are so tremendously appreciated!!.🙏🏻❤️

note: this is not my personal canon interpretation of werewolves. this is just a werewolf fic, y'know?

He was the wretched thing you kept behind locked doors with the rising of each full moon.

Once, the pale moonlight had been a thing of beauty to you both; an exquisite, lustrous pearl which seemed so small pinched between your fingers, squeezed and blurred through narrowed eyes. He, on the other hand, admired it differently from you by staring adoringly at its craggy features and the wan, white halo it emitted.

By trade, he was a painter and made a meager living for you both from it. His portraits were most popular as nobles found his style palatable, brushwork concealing of all flaws that showed in their faded clothes, their tarnished jewelry, their ravaged flesh and inbred faces. He knew what they'd wanted in a painting and created these fabrications as they wished because it meant more than old bread and leathery meats for dinner.

For you, he endured such mundanity if it meant you could eat well and dress warmly and in an enviable way to the neighbors. He enjoyed your simple delight; how little it truly took to keep you happy, how easy your marriage had been up until that point. You loved him and you loved the things he provided for you.

When it came nighttime, far into the blackest hours where the world seemed seized in so forceful a hush, you made no objections when he pulled you from bed to go outside with him to view the sky. There, he painted by the orange embers of lantern light and tried to capture all the likeness of the night sky with its misty moonlight and glittering, starry veil.

Sometimes you held the lantern for him, sometimes you did nothing but sit on his side holding the paint palette and lean into his hip, leaching away warmth from his body. Most nights, you were a handsome fixture and most beloved companion, trying to squash the moon like a grape with your fingers while speaking every thought out loud.

But, one night he went out alone and did not return for three days. He had left with his easel and stretched canvas and precious paint board, yet had come back to stand in the doorway with none of it.

“Darling,” you hesitated, starting out firm in case he was inebriated, altered aggressively in some way. You looked at him as though he were some strange person. “Where are your things? Your paints? Your canvas? My love, where have you been?”

“I—I don't have much of an answer to that. I'm sorry.” Then, he strode past you to the bedroom, shuttered the windows to muffle light and sound, declaring he needed rest. “Please, let me be. I'll look for my things another time.”

Later, he was ravenous at the dinner table and ate more than you thought it’d ever be possible for one man to do. You sacrificed your own portion in hopes he'd be sated, but he only turned irritable and mute, as if he were aware nothing good would come of his words to you. At the time, you'd feared that you had upset him in some way, perhaps no longer thought you lovely and fashionable or dependable as his partner and wanted to do away with your marriage.

That would mean you could only return home to rural hardship, or to the slums in the neighboring kingdom. The world would know your unwanted status, how much of a disappointment you'd been to satisfy your own husband, and you would never know another moment of quiet luxury again.

You couldn't accept such a fate, so you bathed him carefully that night. Purposeful with how you dragged the soapy sponge down along his back, fingernails a featherlight graze between the valleys of muscle and flesh protecting his spine. You kissed the back of his shoulders, lips a smouldering touch against his neck.

Then, you felt from stomach down to his hips, swirling your fingertips against the bony protrusions and in the fragrant water before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him to hardness. He still said nothing as he kissed your lips, tongue relentlessly pursuing your teeth to get inside your mouth, and pulled you into the tub with him fully clothed.

He fucked you deep and hard that night bent over the edge of the tub, hips pistoning up against your ass, skin slapping raw, thrusting into your wet walls at an angle that had you writhing with a face warped in equal parts exquisite bliss and agony. It wasn't until one of his hands gripped you around the neck, levering you against him, that you noticed a wound on his forearm right below where purple and green veins pulsed under his skin, translucent.

They were tooth marks—two rows of them. Crooked and sharp, arranged in a way that reminded you of the jagged spears wetted by sea spray at the base of a cliff. They looked deep, like whatever had bit him held on, yet hadn’t the intention to tear his arm off of the rest of him. The punctures were purple-red and abyssal as you studied them, vision jarred by his cock ramming you, his panting in the crook of your neck, and the bruise surrounding it bloomed a concentration of colors resembling an inkspill.

How had you not noticed it before?

“I fear what may come on certain nights from now on. When I ask it, lock the bedroom and shutter the windows from the outside. Don't ask me questions for I have no answers to give you.” He did not offer you the reassurance you had wanted, but it was enough to help you confidently stride through the days, knowing that your marriage wasn't in crisis.

Afterwards, it became imperative for you to act as someone educated because you needed to understand what was happening to your husband some nights.

It started days before a full moon: he became impatient, easy to displease, indignant upon any perceived blunder you made. He did not gorge on wine, but whatever meats were preserved in storage and what you could afford now with his inconsistent employment. You tried hiding these poor portions in thick stews with vegetables that had been infused in simmering beef stock for hours, but he was never fully sated by it.

At the same time he started to demand distance from you, he ravaged you at strange hours in your shared bed, tearing at your clothes to suck on your nipples, lap the glisten between your legs. New was his biting to leave marks and sup the blood mixed with his own saliva. More than once, he came on your body with hot, thick ropes and squirted piss on you like an animal marking territory.

When the night of the full moon arrived, he was transformed and horrifying. You had heard furniture crashing and shattering in the bedroom where he'd barricaded himself. Even his yowls throughout the evening had changed, no longer sounding like agony in the cries of the man you'd married, but something far more beastal. It came from within the chest, in the lungs behind the ribs, and was not human.

You had made the mistake only once to check in on him during this point in his shift, as you hadn't known any better. Your voice was a panicked flutter, a whisper of fear that something else might have broken through the fortress of wooden boards nailed against the windows from either side of it.

“My love? Darling, are you alright?”

He was there. You thought he was there because of the silhouette clambering across the broken remains of your shared dresser and vanity. The difference was that this thing was enormous. A creature with a bristling back, hair or spines standing out like a porcupine threatening with its quills.

It stood and was forced to hunch from the low ceiling of your house. A canine-like countenance glowered at you, red eyes partially obscured by patchy fur. Raw skin shined in the barren spots in the lantern light you'd forced into the room, and that hair didn't fully cover his abdomen nor his groin.

He was as much still human as he was this ugly beast. You'd thought to take another step into the room when he snarled and lunged towards the door. A shrill shriek pulled from your throat as you fully withdrew from the room, bolting the door shut with an iron key. He never made a ruckus against the door, and you left for the neighbor's right after, claiming that your husband had wanted space after an argument.

The next morning, your husband had somehow managed to escape the bedroom and sat in the kitchen clothed from the waist down, disoriented by the sunlight and his placement at the table. He didn't remember his transformation into the beast, but he did remember you.

Perhaps that's what gave you the courage to try to enter the bedroom the night of yet another shift. His yells of anger and pain had cooled after several hours, quieting to beastal groans and his heavy footfalls endlessly pacing the floorboards inside.

The door squealed, a call out to the darkness and creature within, and that creature responded with a growl—low, reverberating in darkness, a warning that you wouldn't be tolerated. You invaded the space carefully, meat and fish and other morsels for offering in a basket you'd woven yourself, that he had told you he thought was particularly artful at completion.

“Darling, I've brought you something. It's food. I've put fresh milk inside, too.” You caught sight of him near the boarded window, massive back rounded as he crouched low into a posture which looked as unnatural as when he tried to stand on his bent legs. “I know it—I know it won't ease your suffering, but you must still eat.”

He approached you, but it was unlike times before where he'd jump at the door to scare you away. This time he crawled towards you instead of intimidating you with his height—he wanted you to stay, and tried to appear small by dragging his long tail across the floor. The fur sounded like coarse bristles on a broomstick.

“Oh, my love. My love. My love. What has happened to you?” You moved away from the coverage of the door into the dark space, using your body to close it behind you so that he couldn't get out. You couldn't be sure how he'd behave if he could leave the house. “I'm here. Oh, you're so sweet. Look at you.”

You'd placed the basket aside neatly, making your movements obvious so as not to inspire ire, and didn't react when his long snout pressed into your abdomen. Stubble and whiskers pulled back to reveal long, stalagmite teeth which chewed mindlessly at your clothes. His damp nose nudged under your layers, pressing flush to your skin, startling you with a nasally gasp.

It was the instance where his nose left your stomach and went lower, pushing between your legs to lick you through your pants that you tried to cower, sidle out of his reach. He must've retained some semblance of himself because his arms rose to flank you at the waist, claws digging to the grain of the door, his strong snout pinning you, tongue knowing your shape even through cloth.

The fabric between your legs was wet, sticking flush to you, giving him as much nearness he could achieve without stripping off the layers separating him from your taste. The luscious imprint of you was unfulfilling, not even a teasing drop of what he instinctively knew he could have.

Your pants were removed unkindly; ripped at the waist, torn through impeccable artistry and threads and delicate fabric he had once paid for. Neither complete fear nor anger kept you silent, motionless for him to do as he pleased by yanking the pants off of your legs, but swelling curiosity. You wondered how much of your husband still remained inside this beast when the full moon was high.

The same unkindness followed him shredding through your underwear with his strange teeth, gnawing the fabric to a thin, sopping string before he could finally have you. Inhale you. Taste you with the paddle flatness of his tongue and make you squirm when his teeth skimmed that part.

“O-oh—” this wasn't like when he did it with his human tongue, as masterful as it was. He licked you with fervor you'd never felt, like he was reaching for something deep inside your viscera and blood and gore. Every subtle change of his immense nose and tongue was white heat behind your eyes, jostling pulses of electric, immodest moans, your hips driving forward on their own accord to help him find the treasure he sought within you.

Then, he stopped and hauled you to the floor with a single arm twice the thickness of that of his human counterpart. He knew no gentleness even now, dropping you onto your knees and palms against splintery floorboards which vented cool air up through the gaps, into your skin from the draft rising from underneath the house.

That cold reached deeper, seemed to lift off the ground to meet you as your husband—the beast—thrust your chest against the stiff boards and spread your legs apart with his mass. His claws sank around your hips without piercing your flesh, though their sharpness was undiminished to you regardless.

You knew agitation would not serve you here, neither would bursts of courage to escape. He would catch you with those talons, eat your insides with them and fuck you all the same.

He mounted you clumsily, then.

Enormous, coarse-haired hips grinding against your bare ass, prickling you, making you wince from where your face was nearly pressed into the wood below. You shivered at the first pass of his cock between your legs. Stiff and girthy, arched so well that you felt the moist tip drag across you, catching on spots he'd licked to flinching sensitivity, eagerly prodding at you.

The beast made a sound; a suffering groan with the tremble of his hips before he was thrusting inside of you. The sheer viciousness of his hips hammering against the globes of your ass and his heaviness forced you flat to the floor, where you reached out from the sides of your body for something to hold and grip for comfort. It was barren everywhere you touched.

Your walls were still tight around his cock even as the moments passed, growing no closer to accommodating his size than before, strokes animalistic and messy. While his fur muffled the friction of your skin, the airless dark of your bedroom was compacted with lewd squelching and moans you'd never known you were capable of making. Your noises were high-pitched and vile, paced with his hips, the curve of his cock stroking your velvety insides, and the wet suction releasing when he'd partially withdraw.

Above you, he panted with his long tongue lolling, dripping strings of saliva onto your back where they cooled upon contact and made you feel filthy. Your body ached from his weight pinning you to the inflexible floorboards, cold numbing your skin, hardening your nipples, grinding them down with each of his thrusts.

The enclosed space held an unusual smell, one apart from what you knew was sex. How sweat and salt and cum clung to the mustiness of old places. This was more pungent; earthier and heavier as it filled the room and leaked out of your hole, oozing down your thighs like nectar from a weeping peach.

You continued to let the beast—your husband—fuck you into the wood, the grain, to become an impression in the floor as nothing else could be done. But you were sore now and sure to be swollen, as you were an uncomfortable fit for him again; virgin tightness which gripped every vein and ridge in his cock.

The grinning beast bared even more of his teeth, clicking them together as he released a shuddering sound, too distant to be human but not entirely monstrous. He rutted you carnally, pushing your legs as far apart as they could go from where you were on your stomach, and went deeper inside of you still.

Something about the depth was so wrong—not meant to be, not meant to be experienced by a creature so simple as yourself. It was divine pleasure and pain, it was a threshold that shouldn't have been crossed, yet he had persevered and fucked you into screams.

His hips stuttered violently and he growled; he snarled; he whimpered like an actual beast mortally wounded. You gasped in awe at an enormity of sensations: his cum gushing inside of you, spurting out in thick ribbons to join the rest that had dried on your thighs, and his knot stretching your walls, locking his hips against your ass.

You fidgeted from the bulbous growth, clenching around it, whining wanly while he insistently humped you to burrow the knot as far as it could go. He was trying to breed you; plug his spend inside of you just as he would have had another creature of his sort. Because you were his spouse, perhaps he was only able to perceive you as his mate.

His movements soon slowed, calmed in a way of someone who'd been taken by blows of exhaustion and draped his large body across your back, prodding you with his spinose furs. There was some tenderness in how he kept his arms outside of you, bracing his weight onto them so as to not smother you. He did it to adjust his knot and half-hard cock inside you as well, unforgiving to the idea that you might have forgotten his fullness, that you were brimmed with his cum and felt bloated from it.

Nothing would come from this, only the shame of knowing you'd moaned and screamed for this beast, but not the human you'd married.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[minhosimthings]

After-party || 18+

Synopsis: The best part of attending all those champagne-filled events was always the after-party sex. And who better to have it with than your two oldest members?

Pairings: Heeseung × eighthmember!fem!reader × Jay, includes Hanbin of Zb1

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, female eighth member of Enhypen au, unprotected p in v (not for you), cock riding, choking (f recieving), oral sex (f recieving), degradation, praise, threesome, anal sex, rough sex, implied masturbation (male), DADDY KINK, all of them are toxic af, reader is younger and shorter than both of them

A/N: I have woken up from my 8292937 year hibernation period again and immediately decided to finish this fic. Fun fact this wip is being erased from my list after two years of its inception lol. Anywho probably gonna disappear for a long time again don't miss me too much y'all. As always enjoy!

Being the only female member of Enhypen meant you were the object of many staring eyes.

But not the eyes of your fans. You could handle those readily. After all, engenes were as infatuated with you as they were with the rest of the boys.

The eyes you couldn't handle (not easily) were those of the four oldest members.

Lee Heeseung, Park Jay, Sim Jake and Park Sunghoon.

Being a part of the 2003 line meant that they saw you as their ‘beloved princess’, especially in the bed-works. Their words of course, not yours. Sunoo, your fellow 03 liner, also joined in the fun sometimes. Having his bedroom situated directly next to yours was certainly a marvelous thing for him and Jake—who lived in the same dorm.

Going to events with them wasn't any different either with either Sunghoon or Heeseung constantly throwing flirtatious glances all the time, and Jay not taking his fingers off from your skin at any moment.

But you didn't really mind for some odd reason. Maybe the odd reason was you were only a woman constantly surrounded by handsome men. Or maybe it was the fact that their skills in seduction were as smooth as their voices and you had easily fallen into their trap.

Regardless, you loved them and they certainly loved you back.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“Why were we not invited again?” Jake tilted his head. He was lying on the couch, with his body sprawled like a sea slug, whilst Sunghoon looked on at the white wall, completely zoned out.

“You’re not worthy.” Heeseung joked from a corner of the room, admiring himself in the full body mirror. He sported a rather sleek look of a collared white coat over a velvety black shirt and black trousers. A dainty ringed necklace dangled from his neck, along with two bracelets on his wrist, rings decorating his index and ring fingers, and multiple small earrings hanging from his ears.

“Ha ha.” Sunghoon laughed sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “We still have our Tiffany events, right Jake?”

“Yep!” Jake said with a pop of his lips, toying with the aglets of his hoodie strings, “Speaking of Tiffany–” He rolled over to lay on his stomach, speaking to Heeseung this time, “—I heard our Y/Nnie is gonna sneak in with a Tiffany ring instead of a Pommelato one.”

“And wherever did you hear that from, Jaeyun?” A husky voice sounded as Jay stepped in. He looked exceptionally handsome, dressed in a similar look to Heeseung, albeit with a longer suit jacket and a v-neck under-shirt. He sported less jewelry though, with a plain golden band adorning his ring finger, a chunky bracelet on his wrist, and a necklace that dropped down to his chest. He wore a pair of simple earrings as well.

“Hey, don't shoot the messenger.” Jake held up his hands in defeat, collapsing onto the sofa once more with a loud yawn, “I’m excited to see what she’ll be wearing.”

“I hope it's not something similar to last time.” Heeseung groaned, remembering the last event he, you and Jay had been invited to. You had worn black, a halter neck dress of satin, which cinched around your waist and flowed off in a skirt that went to your knees. Heeseung had to keep his head buried in his champagne in order to resist dragging you off to the bathroom to satisfy his throbbing boner.

“Why not?”

The sound of your heels was heard first, before you could step into the room, alerting the boys’ ears and causing them to snap their heads in the direction of the entrance. You wouldn't have described their reaction to your dress as ‘jaw dropping’ but for the sake of your ego, you decided to.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung visibly gulp and Jay’s eyes trail down to your chest. Perverts, you thought, though you thought it with a wide smile.

“Don’t you like the outfit?” You asked them, taking a spin for them to see the back of it, giggling to yourself as you did. You knew all those shoulder workouts at the gym would pay off when you wore something like this.

“Backless…” Sunghoon said, his eyes wide, “I mean….….it's classy for sure.” Jake nodded in furious agreement, whilst the older two watched on silently, smirks dangling on their lips.

In all fairness to them, it was something you had never tried before. It was white, to match the boys’ outfits, with a sweetheart neckline that showed off your cleavage. Your back was accentuated perfectly by the sleek dip of the dress. It was bolder and far more dangerous. But what is life without a little danger?

“And you expect us to remain civil throughout the night.” Jay chuckled, swiping a stray stray of hair from his face, “While looking like that.”

“It's not my fault I’m way too pretty.” You shrugged your shoulders, adjusting your own hair with your ringed fingers. A sleek gold band decorated your index finger while another one which was inset with an emerald sat on your ring finger. You had a bracelet as well; the thick, curling wires of gold rested rather coldly against your skin. Since you didn't really have a preference for earrings, you decided to wear tiny hoops of plain gold. A perfect way to subtly complement the outfit.

“Woah honey, tone down the ego.” Jake wolf whistled, making you giggle as you plopped down on an armchair next to Sunghoon.

“Are the divas ready?” You said loudly, calling out to Jay and Heeseung, the latter was fixing his hair meticulously, “Or are we gonna stay here for the night?”

“Well if you give us that invitation…..” Jay said, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. His hair was styled in a way that made your insides curl up and scream. Handsome bastard, you thought.

Just as you were opening your mouth for a retort, there was a knock at the door, followed by it opening without anyone giving an answer. A blonde, curly haired man stepped in, his fox-like eyes widened and his dimple prominent on his upper cheek.

“Hey the car’s read—Woahh.” Sunoo stopped in between his sentence, his eyes trailing up and down the length of your body, “Well hello gorgeous.”

“My eyes are up here, asshole.” You grumbled, getting up and speedily moving over to the door without sparing so much as a glance to Sunoo. He furrowed his brows.

“What did I do now?” He sighed, collapsing onto the armchair you were sitting on, “Don’t tell me this is about last night.”

“Of course it's about last night!” You glared at Sunoo, crossing your arms. Jake’s eyes clearly followed your cleavage again.

“Well don’t wear my hoodie again, you look too sexy to resist.” Sunoo chuckled. Sunghoon laughed as well, nodding his head in agreement.

“My legs are actual jelly Kim Sunoo.” You said smirking as an idea came to your mind. You flashed your right leg forward, exposing the thigh high slit that the dress had. Your ego significantly heightened as you saw how the boys physically stopped in between what they were doing, widening their eyes. Heeseung’s hand was frozen in mid-air, his efforts to brush his hair back proved to be un-futile. Jay chuckled.

“Thanks for taking my advice with the dress, baby.” Jay said, walking towards you, with his hands still in his pockets. Your eyes flickered to his lips and his to yours and soon they were pressed firmly against each other as his hand wrapped around your waist, whilst yours lay flat on his chest. His rings dug into your waist. He faintly tasted like cardamom; his movements were soft and his lips were perfect around yours. You often commented that Jay’s kisses felt the most romantic from all the others and you were, yet again, proven right.

“Gross.” You heard Sunoo say. You glanced at him just at the right moment when he rolled his eyes as you pulled away from the kiss.

“Jealous, Sun?” You smirked, locking eyes with Heeseung at the corner. His eyes were dark and his smirk was mischievous.

“You better go before the driver gets tired of waiting.” Sunghoon smiled warmly at you. Heeseung responded with a soft ‘yep’ while Jay was already ushering you out of the room, his gaze wavering towards your chest every now and then. He walked over quickly and shut the door after you had exited the room, bidding goodbye to the boys.

“You really like the neckline huh?” You giggled, catching Heeseng’s attention, as he snapped his eyes to hold yours in a dark gaze.

“You’re begging to be touched tonight aren't you?” He whispered, bending down to your level, to place a sudden kiss on the curve of your neck. His lips felt cold and slightly moist, probably because of the layers of lip balm he always applied.

“Don’t steal her all to yourself, hyung.” Jay cocked his head to your side, pressing a kiss at your neck as well. His lips felt warm over your neck, in total contrast to Heeseung.

“Are you guys done?” You chuckled, playfully glaring in Jay’s directions, “Horndogs.”

“I mean—” Jay looked at Heeseung, who was smirking, “She is right.” You heard Heeseung chuckle, “We are not staying civil tonight with that dress on you.”

“Didn't think so.” You mumbled.

And it wasn't like you even wanted them to.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

The car ride to the event played out in the usual shenanigans.

Both of your thighs were squeezed by two veiny hands, your right by Heeseung’s and your left by Jay’s. Heeseung was fighting his demons hard not to reach up the dress slit and dive into you with his fingers. You didn't really want him to though; your eyes kept wavering over the rings that both the men wore, imagining what they’d feel like pressed harshly to your throbbing cunt. You were also fighting your demons to not unbutton their silk shirts with your teeth right now.

The car came to a stumbling halt, right as you were feeling sleep hug your eyes. Jolting awake, you glanced to your left to see the faint flashes of cameras appear from the dark window.

The press, media, stardom, fame. In short, all you’d worked your ass off for. You often get reminded of that everytime you attend an event like this one.

“Alright, doll?” Heeseung leaned in and whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin softly. You were suddenly reminded of the fact that your shoulders were to be on naked display all evening, when Heeseung suddenly pressed his lips against the skin on the top of your right shoulder.

“You want me to get in trouble, don’t you?” Your voice wavered only for a moment, when Heeseung stopped his sensual attack on your body. He looked up at you, his doe-like eyes darkened to form half moons.

But before you or he could say anything, you felt another similar sensation against your left shoulder.

“I am a victim of sabotage.” You said blankly, making Heeseung laugh as you turned your head to your left to see Jay’s widened eyes looking up at you, whilst pressing feather-light kisses onto your shoulder. He raised a brow, and rose up straight again.

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” He said, his hair falling ethereally onto his face was distracting you, “You’ll have plenty of sabotage when we get home.”

“Oh yeah.” Heeseung’s whispering voice sent ripples throughout your body, “Loads better.”

You were thankful for the partition in the car in between the driver seat and the back seats. And for the darkened windows as well. All of them contributed in hiding your extremely red face and an expression that said ‘I will kill you both’ but also ‘fuck me hard till you break the bed’.

You were greeted with the intense white light from the cameras as you stepped out of the car, aided ever so graciously by Jay’s gentlemanly outstretched hand, which you grudgingly took as a gesture of goodwill.

The media wouldn't know just how hard Heeseung had smacked your ass as you were climbing out from the car.

The spotlight moment on the red carpet was perhaps even worse.

Were you exaggerating? Maybe. But were you also trying hard not to crumble into pieces right there and then when Heeseung and Jay took turns in pulling you by the waist in the most attractive way possible? Definitely.

“I actually hate you both.” You mumbled as soon as you got inside the main lobby, finally free from the cauldron stares and the reporters commenting on what they’ll write about your ‘provocative’ dress. You didnt really give a fuck anyway, but it was nice to see Heeseung send murderous glares towards them.

“Not our fault you’re way too pretty.” Jay snickered, mimicking your words from earlier and fiddling with his rings. Heeseung silently agreed, his hand softly squeezing your ass serving as testimony. You rolled your eyes, resorting to putting on your game face—a.k.a the sweetest smile you could muster—to impress whoever the hell you were meeting.

You had heard earlier that day that your friend and MC partner Hanbin, of Zerobaseone, was also going to be present at the event. You hadn't told the guys, keeping it your little secret, so as to have an impromptu encounter with him at the venue.

Plus, Hanbin and you talking would certainly add fuel to the flame of your dating rumours, which had already been cleared a long time ago.

However, it was still fresh in Jay and Heeseung’s minds, and you had been taught from early childhood that revenge was a dish best served cold.

Entering the main venue, you were blinded by the flash of all the diamonds and jewels on display. Rows of rings and bracelets studded with jewels flanked every corner, and a multitude of opulent necklaces stood right in the centre. Your eyes were practically gleaming as you saw the earrings.

Soon enough, you, Jay, and Heeseung walked off in different directions, agreeing to meet up at a spot when it was time to go home.

You raced your eyes through the room, trying to spot Hanbin, walking blindly towards the bracelets in your attempt. You were momentarily distracted by the jewelry; it was seducing you into its gold and ruby grasps, and it was safe to say you were sold.

Giving a quick smile to the man behind the counter, you dropped your head down to the lines of bracelets—all sitting atop small black pillows. A lustrous silver one caught your attention first. It was engraved with the brand’s name on the inside and was decorated with carefully carved emeralds all over it. It would have looked amazing on the green dress you owned. Especially with your silver heel—

“Y/N?”

Hanbin.

Jackpot!

“Hey!” You exclaimed surprisedly, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to come, “Fancy seeing you here, oppa.”

“Yeah.” Hanbin shrugged, he was still getting used to you calling him ‘oppa’, “Wow, I didn't know you were here. You look beautiful.” You had to admit that Hanbin did make you blush often, and to be honest you wouldn't mind if any dating rumours crop out of this.

But unfortunately, there were some people who would mind direly.

“I’m here with my members actually.” You chuckled, “Jay and Heeseung. I’m sure they’re drowning in the free champagne though.” You giggled, trying to catch Hanbin off guard, “Were you browsing the bracelets, as well?”

“Matthew will murder me if I don’t get him a bracelet back.” Hanbin chuckled, “Do you have any recommendations?” You smiled sweetly at him and diverted your gaze back to the silver bracelet.

“I do like that one.” You nodded towards the bracelet, “I haven't tried it on yet though.” You chuckled, “Anyway I have way too many bracelets back home, I don't think I’ll buy this one.” Hanbin frowned slightly and asked the man standing behind the counter to show you the piece of silver, completely ignoring your protests.

“Now what kind of an MC partner would I be if I don’t get you a gift hm?” Hanbin smiled softly, putting the jewelry gently around your wrist, “Consider it an advance birthday present.” You giggled at this proposition, knowing well enough that your birthday was months away.

The bracelet looked expensive on you, the cold metal pressing against your skin and illuminating it with its numerous emeralds. Whoever designed this deserved to get a promotion in your high opinion. It shined in all its majesty on your wrist; you felt like it had the ability to make its wearer’s aura—an arcane one. You certainly felt mysterious.

"It's so beautiful…" You mumbled under your breath, “I love it.” You beamed up at Hanbin, who grinned back, “Now, should we choose Matthew’s present?"

"Well, I guess I'll be taking this one as well." Hanbin winked at you, "Along with Matthew's present, of course." He turned his eyes back to the glimmering collection, "How do you think he'll feel about that gold one over there?"

The conversation drifted on for about fifteen minutes, though you kept no track of time. It went from bracelets, to packed schedules, to comebacks and eventually, the well-being of each other's members.

While you chatted away merrily with your friend, two pairs of shimmering eyes stared from the distance, seeing nothing but red painted in the scene in front of them.

While jealousy or pettiness could never easily be seen on Jay’s face, it could be seen as bright as day on Heeseung’s. And boy did he look like an angry bull staring at the matador in the fighting ring.

“You should probably fix your face, hyung.” Jay sipped his champagne, it tasted disgusting, but it was still free alcohol.

“She’s touching his arm.” Heeseung grumbled into his own glass. Though he knew you were a grown woman who could handle yourself and make your own decisions and choices, deep down, he felt that pang of childish jealousy pierce his heart, as he saw you laugh with Hanbin in the distance. The lingering looks and slight touches made his ears turn furiously red.

Jay wasn't any better either. He was unbelievingly horny, and the way your dress draped around your hips so fucking perfectly made his dick ache. His image would probably be in shambles right now; the fabric of his pants wasn't really made for a hard cock.

“Should we go over then?” He suggested, to which the older man simply nodded, downing the rest of his champagne. Jay held onto his own glass though—something to put pressure against.

You, on the other hand, kept chattering away with Hanbin, not so subtly glancing over at ‘your’ men on the other side of the room. Hanbin thankfully didn’t notice—maybe his peripheral vision wasn’t as great as yours was—because he didn't internally smirk evilly when the oldest members of Enhypen started to approach him.

“Oh hey guys.” you exclaimed in an unusually high pitched voice, along with widened eyes, “Look who I found!” You tilted your head towards Hanbin, who smiled sweetly at Heeseung and extended his hand forward. You prayed to whichever God was listening that Heeseung didn't crush his hand—because from the look on his face, he looked like he really, really wanted to. You wondered if Hanbin was choosing to ignore it, or if he really was that sweet of a soul.

“What were you guys looking at?” Jay asked, turning Hanbin’s attention to him, “We were just over there by the rings and we got so distracted we didn't even notice you guys!”

Liar, you thought, they definitely noticed you, and boy did they definitely see you touching his arm.

“I was just buying this pretty thing.” Hanbin pointed to the bracelet on your wrist, “For a pretty girl, of course.” A blush crept to your cheeks and all Heeseung saw was red.

“Oh yeah, we were also looking at stuff for Y/N.” Heeseung forced a laugh, “Speaking of which—” He directed his surprisingly softened eyes towards you, “—do you wanna check out the things we got?”

Oh how well your plan was working.

“Actually, I was helping Hanbin oppa pick out a bracelet for Matthew.” The mere word ‘oppa’ was the final knife to the boys’ hearts, “I’ll be back after a minute, if that's alright?” Your eyes sparkled mischievously as you looked at Jay with the most innocent look you could muster.

“Of course it’ll be alright.” Jay smiled gently, and soon enough, dragged a very unwilling Heeseung off towards the fountains of champagne.

You pressed a freshly-plucked-from-the-waiter glass of champagne to your bosom and picked up the conversation with Hanbin again. You couldn't feel the influence of the alcohol work on you any time soon, though you were fervently hoping for it to. Orgasms always feel better when one is drunk, in your opinion.

From the corner of your eye, Heeseung and Jay seemed to shine in all their majestic glory, with their sleek clothes and their very seductive jewelry. And also their furrowed brows, which switched to polite, saccharine smiles within seconds.

It was a good thing your dress was so easily accessible.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

The pressure on your back felt painfully arousing as Heeseung pressed you to his bedroom wall. The rough feeling of his lips made you whine in between the sloppy kiss. His hand travelled up your leg, to your chest, cupping your breast in his warm fingers. Just that would have been enough to make you cream—what with how stimulated you were at the moment.

You heard Heeseung’s shaky breaths so close to your ear; your face instantly felt like it's on fire, considering how good his hand squeezing the shit out of your tit made you feel. The soft and warm combination of skin and fabric under his hand feels so right and he immediately notices your hard nipple, visible through the fabric.

"Fuck, you really want this, huh?" Now his lips are brushing over your shoulder and the slight growl in his voice makes something deep inside you tighten, "Dirty little baby." If he only knew for how long you'd been craving this, ever since you saw him in that stupid white coat and that stupid jewelry.

Heeseung's lips feel so soft on your shoulder and you move your head a bit to the side, just to give him more room to play with, which he immediately takes advantage of. His lips trail over your shoulder to your neck and he gently starts to suck on that sweet spot, drawing more of those sweet sounds out of you. The sight of Jay in the corner, slowly removing his jacket disappears, drowned out by Heeseung's erratic breathing, and his moans against your neck.

“Heeseung….” You sighed, “...want—want your cock—please..” Your sentence was spoken in a daze, an almost incorrigible accent that only the man in front of you could comprehend.

“Baby wants my cock?” Heeseung almost cooed, one of his hands trailed down your body again to find your exposed thigh, giving it a good squeeze before speaking again, “You’re so demanding aren't you sweetheart?” His hands venture deeper, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch, “Promise you'll be a good girl for daddy then?” You only nod, but even that’s enough for Heeseung to roughly cup your pussy in his hand, “Words baby, use your words.”

“I–ahhh” Your words couldn't even begin to come out, Heeseung’s body put so much pressure against yours “—be your good girl—all yours daddy,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “please—need it inside.”

Heeseung suddenly nibbled on your neck, making you flinch momentarily. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race. He trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“What do you think Jay?” Heeseung called out to the younger man, “Does she deserve my cock?”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jay sitting all relaxed on Heeseung’s gaming chair. His coat was nowhere to be seen and his bracelet and earrings were removed. He titled his head to the side and—in the barely lit atmosphere—you could spot that smug smile dancing on his lips.

“Hmm, I don't know…” He slowly got up and stuffed his hands into his pant pockets, “I don't think she needs it.” You internally swore at Jay, all words that could get out from your mouth, if Heeseung wasn't cupping your pussy so well at the moment.

“All yours then.” Heeseung’s hands abruptly left your skin, “You may want to keep it quiet though, the others might wake up.” He winked and strode away towards his lounge chair in the corner of the room.

You didn't even get time to take a breath before Jay’s soft lips were on yours. Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues were fighting with each other for dominance; it was a sure thing that Jay won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what you knew it could do to you.

"You taste so good…" Jay mumbled in between the passionate moment, "pretty baby" Heat spread all throughout your body at his compliment, he was always marvelous at pet-names. Jay couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your hips and briskly lifted you up, his biceps flexing through his shirt as he did. He looked absolutely succulent.

Laying you down gently on the bed, he was quick to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt, before he leaned over you and connected your lips together again. You broke the kiss just to see his chest peek out from the slightly unbuttoned shirt. You were an expert at removing buttons by now and—naturally—you reached under his shirt and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught his breath.

"You like that huh?” he asked hurriedly, with a cocky smile hanging on his lips, “Needy little slut.” You looked up at him with hooded eyes, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination always made a total waterfall flow between your legs.

He was holding you by your waist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. Jay’s hand traveled up the slit of your dress and his fingers hook themselves onto the waistband of your drenched panties. Ever the expert, he pulls them off faster than you can comprehend.

Your hands meanwhile fly to his pants, pulling down the zipper to leave him in his boxers, which he wrenches them too, impatiently. The atmosphere of the room becomes quite heated as you look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

In one rough tug, he yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in Jay’s hands as he lurched forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet. You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “You gonna stick that tongue inside of me or do I have to wait?”

Jay looks up and squeezes your thigh, making you look him in the eyes. He lets himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. You look at him and grin, eager to get him as riled up as possible before you feel a sudden movement as he pulls your legs completely apart.

“Pretty girl sure knows how to run that mouth huh?” He says, and your hips jerk up slightly on their own volition, desperate for any friction, Jay runs his tongue over his lips, “She wants me to shut it up for her, doesn't she?”

It was evident he didn't need an answer when you felt his tongue glide through your folds; he had found his new home between your legs. You shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. You tear your eyes away from the erotic way Jay’s eyes closed as if he was enjoying his most favourite meal. Your head falls back as a deep moan rips into the air.

An amazing taste blooms on his tongue, crisp and bright with hints of whatever cranberry potion you were drinking and that faint yeasty richness at the back of Jay’s throat. They dance across his palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through his veins that doesn’t soothe his nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into his bloodstream.

Your mouth dropped open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twisted his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasped for air. The dim light of the room highlighted the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

His nose nudged your clit, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy. Jay groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit. Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His tongue flicking between your folds, you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” He circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin. No matter how many times Jay found his head between your thighs, he could never get used to how intoxicating you were, all of his senses and primal instincts honing in on fucking you stupid.

Your hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he could coax from you. It’s pure sin, each sound you made, each shiver that ran through you as he took his time, drinking you down like a man starved. You cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing.

“F-Feels so good…oh fuck—daddy!” His chest filled with pride as you writhed above him. Despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock.His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Oh daddy…..” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him, “Harder—go harder please…” Jay moaned against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He thrusts his tongue greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. It’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling. The stretch is something you could never get used to; it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. All you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his shoulders with your nails, digging into the flesh.

“need you inside, daddy,” you looked down at him, “fuck me.” Jay’s cock strains, pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

“Fuck it—can’t wait.” He mumbles. His lips parted from your pussy in mere seconds and before you knew it, you were pressed flat against the bed. You could taste the cranberry tones of your own cum on his lips, he looked absolutely beautiful with his face all red and his mouth smeared with your spillage.

"Tch tch." You heard the clicking of a tongue in the background, “So I don’t get to have her then, do I?”

Jay slowed down at Heeseung’s brooding voice and closed his eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Have fun with him, princess.” He smirked and climbed down the bed.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the tall figure of Heeseung slowly approaching, his hands in his pockets and his chest peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. He places his knee at the foot of the bed and he climbs up to you. Sitting on his knees, in between your legs, he smirks.

“You didn't cum properly with Jay, did you baby?” He tilts his head at you. Jay scoffs from somewhere in the corner, “Oh be a good sport, Jongseong.” Heeseung’s smile remains as calm as ever.

“You’re basically saying you can fuck her better than i can.” Jay chuckles, “And I'm supposed to be a good sport.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant at all.” Heeseung leans down and presses his lips to your neck, sucking on the spot for a second or so—though it felt like eternity to you, “I’m only saying she prefers cock more than tongue.” His deer-like eyes had a carnivorous lust behind them, “Isn't that right, baby?” Heeseung leaned in and blew cold air onto your neck, making you shiver. He smirked and kissed your neck softly, licking the slick skin.

You looked up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his button up and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms.

Heeseung took this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. You spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. You whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often.

“Fuck—needy baby wants my cock huh?” He kisses at your collarbone, lips catching on the exposed skin of your chest, then breasts as he slowly pulls you up to place you on your ass. He strips off his pants and boxers and grabs your waist once more as he sinks into the pile of pillows, purposefully—and rather masterfully—avoiding where you need him most. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, while you settle down on his hips, smooth fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals.

You didn't know if it was the pure fact that you were one horny bitch or if you were just really craving cock, but the sight of Heeseung’s beautiful dick made you stare. It was so thick and heavy, the mushroom tip was already glistening with pre-cum. You always did say that his dick was the prettiest out of all of them—which earned you quite a lot of rough sex last year. Heeseung’s body was hot, his skin flushed as he relaxed into the mattress even more.

“Go on sweetheart.” He said, in that cocky, condescending tone that always made your pussy gush like a fountain, “Ride it like a good little slut.”

Your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him. You sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you perfectly—at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. You love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

Heeseung’s hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his bare chest rising and falling.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath, his hands were really digging into your naked flesh “Such a fucking slut—treatin’ me so gooodd…..” Heeseung slurred his words as if he was heavy under the influence—of your scent, your pretty pussy wrapped ‘round him, and just the sight of you.

Heeseung was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. He easily found your g-spot; it wasn't a surprise considering how he knew each corner of your body like the back of his hand. “Fuck—oh fucking hell—oh daddy!” your eyes rolled back and at the same time you whined, “F-feel so good—ahh goddd”

Your walls stretched deliciously around the welcomed intrusion that was his length, your pussy clenching around him for all that he had. The sounds falling from your lips were nothing short of pornographic, the moans and choked sobs only pushing Heeseung closer to the edge.

"fuck. . ." He huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. He hates how tired he was already getting but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

You whine and try to take more. Another inch disappears inside you and your thighs tremble as you focus on breathing.

"You're so big," you whine when you take another inch. A shaky breath slips past his lips and his hand tightens on your skin.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark, “Looked so damn good in that tiny little dress.” His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place.

The rough hands on your hips drifted upwards, finding their home around your neck, gently still. But even the soft grip had you reeling, gripping his wrists. The room was heated, and you felt as if you were going to explode. This would definitely leave a few marks on your neck—nothing some makeup couldn't fix.

Every clench of your walls around his length shoots a thrill straight to his stomach, making him ache with the urge to crawl into your skin.The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

You indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. He's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that you need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Heeseung wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

“Fuck. Me.” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out.

“Shit—cumming!” You all but scream. Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Exhausted, you lean forward, such that your face is close to his. His cock still rested inside of you, and he brought a hand up to caress your cheek.Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm.

“We should let Jay have a turn too, shouldn't we baby?” He asked through ragged breaths, “Or you’re too tired?”

“Fuck no.” You huffed, looking at him with widened eyes. Lifting your hips up gently, you whined as you felt his length leave the warmth of your pussy.

You landed on your stomach as you rolled over to the edge of the bed. Curling your back, you sat up on your arms, and looked at Jay, who was sitting calmly on an armchair. Or so you thought, until you noticed—through your euphoria-filled eyes—that his chest was rising and falling rapidly. The place where he sat looked wet to you—and truth be told—so did his dick. You smirked and tilted your head at him.

“You could have at least told me you were touching yourself..” You said, in a sultry tone, “You know I would have loved to watch.” You dramatically sighed and looked at him with the best sparkling doe eyes you could muster, “But you don't love me enough to tell me, do you daddy?”

If there was one word to describe what Jay was experiencing at the moment on seeing your plump lips shaped in a pout, it would be the word ‘melting’. Your body looked stunning, draped in the covers of the night like some sort of expensive silk. Jay’s heart beat fast, though he didn't show it on his face. He only cocked his head to the side and smiled.

“Maybe next time, princess.” He said coolly as if his dick was rock hard by this point at the sight of your tits. You heard Heeseung mutter ‘if there is a next time’ and you rolled your eyes; he never really liked sharing you. You smiled at Jay and extended your hand forward, “Join us?”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he felt his cock getting soaked with precum all pulled him deeper into the recesses of his brain. The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reached a fever pitch.

And before he knew it, Jay was lying next to you. He could see Heeseung over on your other side; he looked as if he had died from the mind-blowing orgasm you had given him.

Your arms circled his shoulders, clawing at the smooth skin. “Need your cock so bad, Jay.” Jay was about to implode from the inside at your sparkling doe-eyes. Who was he to refuse such a pretty girl like you?

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he's teasing your labia, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine.

“J-Jay..” You whimpered, feeling his hard tip nudge your aching cunt, “daddy, don't tease”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being so good for daddy aren't you?”

"Fuck...oh God.." you cry out slightly as he pressed your chest to his, his hand wrapped snug around your body. "Damn it.." he huffed slightly when you squeezed around him, his eyebrows knitting down.

He groaned deeply, gritting his teeth as he pressed in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shuddered as he filled you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sank further in until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.

“pussy’s so fucking tight,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin, “squeezing me so good, baby.”

"Ah—ah!" you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you to the brink of insanity "Harder—daddy, want it harder…."

"Look at you," he breathed, "takin' me so well. Perfect little cunt, fuck-"

Your eyelids fluttered and your mouth dropped open, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to your peak. You felt the heat pooling low at the base of your spine and your breathing was reduced to sharp gasps.

His hands pushed and pulled your body up and down—fast—and it had your fingers digging into his chest for balance.

"Shit...feels so good," he moaned, jaw slack and eyes glassy as he watched you whine and writhe. Sweat dotted your forehead and you felt that familiar crest swelling deep inside.

"Jay—" you pant, voice cracked and hoarse.

"I got you, sweetheart," he murmured before harshly snapping his hips. You moaned his name and squeezed your eyes shut, the angle stealing your breath and making your thighs shake. A hand pressed on the base of your spine, pushing you down and holding you still while he fucked up into you. Each bruising thrust had you whimpering into his neck but you're so fucking close, you just sit there and take it until the dam breaks and you practically screamed out his name, your voice echoing off the walls in the dark.

“You’re really enjoying yourselves without me aren’t you?” Heeseung’s voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter, “What amazing friends I have.” Though your ears were ringing too loudly and your blood was pumping too fast, you still felt his hot breath waver down your neck and back.

“We are.” Jay roughly responded; his thrusts had slowed down considerably and he was now looking at Heeseung, “And if you wanna join us hyung, quit whining already.”

“That impatient for some pussy huh?” Heeseung smirks and presses the head of his cock agasint your ass You savor the delicious stretch of him as he pushes his hips forward, nails scratching the skin of Jay’s back with the motion, your walls squeezing around Jay’s shaft, “Fuck—pretty ass always remembers me doesnt she?”

You gasp with a nod, arching your back as Heeseung suddenly fills you completely. Your nails dig even deeper, maybe even drawing blood on Jay’s back. You turn to look at Heeseung and instantly see the hunger in his eyes. Jay’s hands grip your hips and he starts to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each thrust sends finite sparks of pleasure through your body, helpless to the small moans that escape your lips.

“Heeseung!” You’d squeal. “Fucking hell….”

“Using your big girl words, baby?” Heeseung chuckles breathily as he eases inside of you, but his length is astounding, nudging deep against your back before he’s even fully sheathed. His thrusts are fumbling at first, hearing the deep breaths he takes as he adjusts to the intense feeling around his cock.

Jay leans in slightly, mesmerized by your twisted expression of obvious pleasure but also at how fucking amazing your pussy felt as it hugged his hug so warmly.He felt a jolt of electricity through him with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails left on the skin of his back.

Eventually the two men find a steady rhythm that had you gasping with every thrust, fingers crawling up Jay’s bare back until you reach his face, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you moan like a girl in a porno drooling over the sheets.

A broken, shaky noise falls from Heeseung’s lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.

You whine, Jay’s back was probably all scarred by now, as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. Heeseung always liked it rough, plus—you'd known him long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. And he was fucking good at it. You'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. Because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

The ache between your legs forms into a burn from how hard they fuck you, chasing their own high now. Your lips press weak kisses against Jay's throat. You feel the vibrations from his grunts and the salty taste of his skin.

“You like that baby?” Heeseung chuckles, “You like the way our cocks fill you up?” Jay chuckles as well.

“Yeah she does.” He accentuates every word with a harsh, toe curling thrust, “Our pretty little slut.”

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around them in rhythmic pulses that make your vision blur. Jay stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

You feel yourself on the brink of coming undone, every stroke of Jay’s cock pushing you closer to tumbling over the edge. The fluttering tell of your cunt steals a moan deep from Jay’s chest. He picks up the pace of his thrusts with a steeled jaw, the bed frame squeaking noisily against the tiled floor as he rocks you back and forth unrelentingly.

Heeseung clenched his teeth as his balls slapped against your ass. He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it.

He bottomed out and went all the way to the hilt, his tip kissing your cervix. You cry out as his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the sound mixed in with the already lewd noises of your moans and wet slapping.

“Dirty fucking baby.” he panted, his hot breath sending additional shivers down your spine, “Getting what you wanted, sweetheart?” His words rasped between short breaths.

You merely whimper to his question, too fucked out to say anything at all. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song.

“Need to cum—ahh ah!” you beg breathlessly, and you can feel the movement of their cocks speeding up as they get desperate. Jay sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing.

“Please,” you whispered, and it’s the first word that you’ve been able to make out in the last several moments, “Please, please, please—” You’re so desperate that it borders on pathetic, you’re practically whining with need, “Fuck, I need—I need-”

It was so cliche. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it, feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused; your hips wriggled uncontrollably as your orgasm came ripping through your body.

You cum with a broken sob, an intense wave of ecstasy washing over as Jay works you masterfully through your orgasm. Heeseung’s approving moan mingles with your cries of pleasure, working silently at your ass as you work through your frantic breathing, palming Jay’s back gently at his squeezes comfortingly at your thighs.

The ache in your cunt is devastating but both of them watch with admiration as the opaque liquid pushes out of your hole as your cunt spasms. Flashes of release spraying your insides play behind Heeseung’s closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull.

Jay’s cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowed, becoming sloppier, rushed, his hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him till he was dry, it made him let out a deep sigh.

You slumped back in Heeseung’s arms just as both of them slowly pulled out, making you whimper. Your pussy was probably dead by now and a wave of relief passed through you as you realised you had a rest day tomorrow. There was no way in hell your legs could function properly for another three weeks.

"You alright, baby?" Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You chuckled.

"I'm at least more alive than he is." You poked at the lifeless, snoring body of Jay, who looked as if he had attained eternal peace.

"Better follow in his footsteps then." Heeseung laughed, and pressed another kiss as you relaxed into his body, "Night, baby."

"Goodnight, Heeseung." You yawned and let him hold you close to his body, providing you with intimate comfort. You smiled to yourself before you drifted off to sleep.

What a productive day it had been.

[hoodedjelly]

ii designs + oj being a little fruity with it

i'm gonna yap below about the designs actually vvvv

springy is just an alien thingy + micky mouse (the smallest inspo from the trix rabbit)

bots design is pretty simple, i kept thinking back to that line "now you're a butterfly!" and im just like, i can't just give them little butterfly designs I NEED THEM TO HAVE A LITTLE SLEEVE/CAPE THINGY SO THEY ARE ONE

for mephone, this is like my 5th redesign of him. to give myself credit, this isn't a redesign from my last one it's just an android version of it, since the last one was fully human. i got VERY inspired by dbh when designing him, his glasses are basically apple glasses glued forever on his head. but he doesn't use it as a screen, it's just where notifications/calls are located at. (when cobs is calling mephone he is literally forced to see his name in his eyes i just think thats evil),where he actually uses his "powers" is like dbh, kinda. the skin on his arm goes white/the original robot form from when he was first made then he just taps it a few times and someone gets revived. i imagine there's colors and the final press is the color of the character he's reviving. 3gs would also just look very dbh damaged robot, white spots of his original robot skin and stuff.

also every phone has some type of glasses eyes , i think mepads would be more rectangle, 3gs would have like goggles. me just trying to keep on this consistent thing i told myself where, if a object has some form of glass on them, then they need some type of glasses. light bulb has sunglasses on her head, oj HAD glasses in s1 then changes to contacts (example below)

uh i got a little side tracked what was i talking about, right mephone4. last thing i want to point out is that they also have a default outfit, like the company uniform. when mephone escapes he just generates a new outfit. i think it would also be cute that mephone generates new clothes for mepad too and left it next to him while he waits for him to wake up <3

[futurewdclandonorris]

Man or Machine | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: after you leave your date unsatisfied, you return to your apartment thinking you'll once again have to take care of yourself on your own when your roommate catches you and offers you a better solution, himself

Warnings: smut

Word count: 8.4k

The flickering street lights cast long shadows as you trudged up the stairs to your apartment, the echo of your footsteps punctuated by the sigh of defeat escaping your lips. The date hadn't gone as well as you’d hoped. In fact, it had been a complete disaster.

The guy was handsome enough, but once you met in person, there had been no chemistry between you. And when it came down to it, the sex was mediocre at best. You cringed at yourself as you unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside, feeling a sense of frustration and self pity.

“You’re back early,” your roommate munched from the couch.

You had been looking forward to your date for weeks, imagining all the ways how it would be different from your usual nights spent pleasuring yourself. But as always, reality has fallen short of your expectations.

“Am I?” you sighed and ran a hand through your messy hair. Maybe you were just doomed to a life of unsatisfying hookups and lonely nights. Maybe you were just bad at this whole dating thing.

“How was the date?” he asked as if he didn’t even hear your previous input, putting chips in his mouth.

“Good.” You glanced at him from the hallway, sprawled on the couch of your shared living room with a bag of chips resting casually on his belly.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows like that was brand new information.

You kicked off your shoes and made your way past him. “So good I couldn’t wait to come home and tell you all about it,” you replied sarcastically, mustering a half-hearted grin as you made your way to the kitchen. The cool light from the refrigerator washed over you as you rummaged through its contents, searching for something to numb the ache of your failed evening.

“Well,” he began with a mouthful. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Lando.” You rolled your eyes as you closed the fridge after not finding anything that caught your interest.

"Hey, don't mention it," Lando said, his voice laced with amusement. You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to cheer you up, even if it fell short of its mark. 

His nonchalant demeanor irked you, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of you, only intensifying the need for release you were so yearning for. A twinge of jealousy couldn't be avoided at his laid-back attitude towards life. As if everything were so simple for him, as if he had never experienced the bitter taste of disappointment that now lingered in your mouth.

“Any plans for the rest of the evening?”

“No, I think I’m just going to shower and head to bed.” Not.

You needed to do something about yourself, and you needed to do it fast. Lando only shrugged, his attention already back on the television as you retreated to your room.

And once again, you stood in your bedroom, alone and preparing to take matters into your own hands. You stripped down from your outfit and changed into a baggy t-shirt that almost reached your knees. You turned to your dresser and opened the first drawer, reaching for the familiar object hidden amongst your clothes. The soft hum of the vibrator greeted you as you pulled it out, its sleek surface cool against your skin. You took a deep breath in, getting ready to put it into use when the door of your room suddenly swung open.

“Hey, I’m making a little something for me and I saw you checking the fridge—Is everything alright?” Lando questioned when he saw you spin around so quickly that you knocked some of your belongings off the dresser while doing so, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah!” your voice unintentionally came out a bit higher pitched than intended, your right hand holding the toy firmly behind your back. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by your flustered response. His gaze flickered from your flushed face to the items strewn across the floor. “Uhm, okay. As I was saying, I’m making a little snack for myself so I was wondering would you like some as well?”

“No, I’m fine,” you replied, gripping the vibrator so strongly as if you were trying to crush it and make it disappear. Food was the last thing on your mind, your desire for something far more urgent and primal consuming your every thought. You could see the curiosity in Lando’s eyes, a glint of suspicion dancing in their depths.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, taking in your disheveled appearance and the way you were trying to conceal something behind your back.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, taking a step into your room. His eyes flicked to the item still hidden behind your back and he arched an eyebrow. “What’s that behind your back?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of shame and panic rising within you. Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. How could you explain this to him? How could you possibly articulate the overwhelming need that drove you to seek solace in the buzzing vibrations of your trusty toy?

“Nothing!”

Lando’s eyes narrowed at you. “Nothing, huh?” he repeated, taking another step forward. Despite the cool hum of the vibrator still buzzing softly in your grip, you tried to muster up a convincing smile. But Lando wasn't buying it this time. He was always good at reading you, even when you didn't want to be read.

"I... It's nothing, Lando," you stammered, a blush creeping up your neck. "Just... personal stuff."

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he took another step closer, his gaze flicking to your hand that gripped the object tightly.

"Personal stuff, huh?" he repeated, his smirk growing into a full-fledged grin. His eyes held a mischievous glint that made your stomach twist with a combination of nerves and something else you couldn't quite place. You were so sure he was going to tease you mercilessly, to make you feel even more embarrassed and exposed than you already did.

“Come on, just show me,” he said gently, his voice turning soft and understanding. Reluctantly, you slowly brought your hand out from behind your back, revealing the sleek toy that had been your source of comfort and release for so many lonely nights.

Lando's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mixture of shock and amusement flashing across his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging heavy in the air as you braced yourself for his reaction.

"Oh wow, I thought I'd seen everything. So that’s how you spend your free evening," he chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

You couldn't help but feel a surge of embarrassment at the situation, standing there exposed with your secret pleasure in plain sight. Lando's reaction was not what you had expected; his laughter disarmed the tension that had been coiled tight within you. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you felt the pressure on your shoulders start to lessen, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I-I... Yeah…” you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence to explain yourself. The vibrator still buzzed softly in your hand, a stark reminder of your failed attempts at finding satisfaction elsewhere.

“Want to… talk about it?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond to Lando’s unexpected offer. Opening up about your intimate struggles was the last thing you had planned for that night, especially to your roommate, who you had never discussed such personal matters with before. But something in the way he looked at you made you reconsider.

“I mean, it just wasn’t satisfactory… enough.” you confessed.

“Wait, did he even make you cum?” he blurted out, a look of shock and mock anger crossing his face.

His boldness was so amusing, it made you laugh. “He did, once. But I wanted… more. But he couldn’t…” Your voice died out, leaving you at a loss for words to convey the odd combination of longing and disappointment you felt.

“God, I don’t know what’s worse: leaving your girl unsatisfied or not satisfying her enough. Even if he couldn’t fuck you there were still many ways he could’ve pleased you. But he didn’t, did he? And now you’re stuck doing it yourself.” Lando pointed out disapprovingly.

“It’s not the first time, honestly,” you wish you bit your tongue cause only when the words left your mouth, you realized the admittance didn't make the situation any better at all. 

“No? How many times have you done this?”

“Too many too count,” you sighed.

“You want to tell me that every time you would return home you would go to your room and do… this?” Lando asked, gesturing towards the vibrator.

You nodded, feeling ashamed of your confirmation.

“Geez, what kind of guys were you going out with?”

“I guess just guys who didn't know how to make me feel good. They were all so focused on their own… pleasures that they didn't care if I was satisfied or not.” Your voice had a blend of sadness and frustration as you spoke.

“Evidently,” he remarked.

“Yes, so, if you don’t mind, would you kindly leave so I can finally get to it?” You held out the vibrator, your hand shaking slightly at the audacity of your request, and he looked at it thoughtfully.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed, frowning a little.

“Uh, yeah?” You replied, feeling even more self-conscious.

“Wouldn’t you like something a little more… I don't know, sophisticated?” Lando offered with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” You asked, intrigued by his suggestion.

“I mean, why would you use toys when you have a fully capable man living with you?” His eyes darted from the vibrator clasped in your hand back to your gaze, and he nibbled on his bottom lip with a suggestive hint.

You blinked in surprise and confusion, struggling to process his words. Was he really suggesting you use him, instead of a toy, to satisfy your needs? It was a bold proposition, one that completely caught you off guard.

Lando must’ve seen the wheels spinning in your head because he quickly added, “I mean, if that’s what you really want, I’m willing to help.”

You felt a strange mix of shock, embarrassment, and fascination coursing through your veins. It was such an unexpected request that you honestly didn’t know how to react. On one hand, you were deeply humiliated by the idea of using Lando as a replacement for your vibrator, but on the other hand, there was a tantalizing appeal to the taboo nature of it. And even more so, the idea of having your most intimate needs met by someone you were close to, rather than a cold, unfeeling piece of plastic.

You found yourself looking deep into Lando's eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the unspoken promise of pleasure behind it. For a moment, you thought of all the times you had used the vibrator alone, wishing there was someone to share the experience with. Maybe Lando could give you that.

"I, uh... I didn't think..." You trailed off, unsure of how to respond. The vibrator, now heavy in your hand, felt almost like a burden at that moment. “Uh, okay,” you said finally, the words barely escaping your lips. “Let’s see if you can do better than this.” you shook the toy in front of him.

Lando grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes as he stepped closer to you. “Trust me, I can do much better than that,” he replied confidently, towering over you.

You felt an unexpected surge of lust at his challenge, your heart pounding in anticipation. He was right, there was no comparison between a machine and a living, breathing human being. All the times you had used the vibrator, you had longed for the warmth and intimacy of a real connection. And now, here was Lando, offering himself to you without any reservations.

“Show me what you’ve got then,” you breathed, raising your eyes to meet his.

Lando lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over your mouth. Your lips fell agape following his movement, a silent gasp caught in your throat. His fingers moved down your neck to your chest, then lower and up again, tracing the delicate contours of your skin. Not being able to help yourself, you moaned softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued his tour.

It was pathetic, in a way. He barely touched you and you were turning into a puddle underneath him. You couldn’t believe how your body was reacting to his simple touch, how he could make you feel with so little effort.

He got a hold of the side of your face, his firm grip pulling you towards him until there was no space between you. His eyes never left yours, gauging every minute response. Involuntarily, you raised your chin, impatient to close the remaining gap between your lips and his. Lando lowered his head just enough to have his lips hovering over yours, your gesture drawing a slight smirk from him, a devilish little smirk that made your heart skip a beat even more. 

Then, with a gentle yet firm pressure, his lips met yours. It was like an explosion of senses, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the velvety texture of his facial hair, they all fused together to create an unmatched sensory experience.

He pulled away just when you were leaning in for more, making him chuckle. “You won’t need this anymore, darling.” he whispered over your lips, peeling the vibrator from your hand and putting it away.

Your now free hands reached for him and pulled him back in for another kiss, this time more urgently, more passionately, and his tongue pressed against your bottom lip, seeking entry. Your heart raced as you allowed it inside your mouth, tasting him, feeling him.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you, igniting a fire in your every nerve ending. You found yourself shuddering, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that this could be possible with a man you lived with, one who you shared meals and chores with. But there he was, passionately kissing and caressing you with an intensity that left you breathless.

You felt his hands slide under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the indent of your navel and the swell of your hips. You arched into his touch, pulling him even closer by the hair, desperate for more and he met you with equal fervor.

His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses that made you moan softly. “I promise to make this worth your while,” he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, drawing him closer, not doubting his promise as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting you thoroughly. Your pulse raced as he began pulling up your shirt, the tips of his fingers skimming over your sides, and you raised your arms for him to take it completely off. You were left only in your panties before him, watching as his eyes darkened as they took in the sight of your naked body, his gaze lingering on the curves and contours of your breasts.

He didn’t say anything, but snaked an arm around your waist and picked you up with ease with his other. Your legs locked around him and he carried you to your bed where he gently laid you down on the soft sheets, his mouth never leaving yours. You were both in a state of heightened arousal, your bodies screaming for each other. 

He pulled back slightly, taking in your flushed face and throbbing lips, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Then, his hands began their journey once again and he dipped his head to your neck, nibbling and sucking gently before moving to your chest, sucking and biting your nipples. You moaned as his fingers teased your sensitive buds, his tongue tracing the outline, sending shocks of pleasure one after another.

Your breath hitched as he moved lower, kissing and licking his way down your stomach, his hands sliding down your sides to the waistband of your panties. He tugged at them gently and you lifted your hips to help him take them off, but he pushed you back down again, keeping you there. You reached down to remove them yourself, but Lando stopped you with a firm grip on your hand. You looked up into his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Patience, my dear. I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second of this.” His words made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel dampness seeping into your panties. “And with me, you can cum as many times as you want.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement as his hands traced the delicate line of your inner thigh, and you shivered under his touch. With each small movement he was building anticipation, the delay only making you crave his touch more.

He was back on giving his attention to your tits, feeling their weight, squeezing them gently and kissing them all over. You gasped as his teeth scraped lightly over your nipples, feeling your pussy clenching in response. Lando then moved back up, his eyes never leaving yours as he kissed his way up your body, stopping just to lightly bite and suck your collarbone. You arched your back, moaning hard, wanting his lips to be everywhere at once.

“Fuck, Lando, please…” you gasped, your breath short.

He smiled wickedly, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. “Just wait, baby. I’m going to give you everything you want, fulfill your every fantasy and desire.”

His tongue darted out to lick your nipples, one by one, your breath stopping in your throat as he did so. He attached his lips to one of your erect nipples, gently biting it while trailing his fingers between your legs. You trembled in his grip, your core aching for his touch, your desire growing more intense with each passing moment.

You bucked your hips against him, desperate for him to finally touch you where you need him the most. Your nipple popped out of his mouth with a soft pop and he moved to the other, repeating the process. Your breaths came out ragged and short, your body screaming for release. Finally, he broke away, but only to position himself better above you.

“Open wide,” he instructed, tapping your lips with his two fingers, waiting to insert them in. “Suck, make them nice and wet for you.”

You opened your mouth, releasing a shallow gasp as his fingers gently entered your sensitive wetness. The pressure and the warmth of his fingers thrilled your whole body as he probed deeper, smoothly gliding in and out of your entrance. You began to suck on his fingers, mimicking the rhythm of his strokes.

He pulled away, bringing his fingers in front of your face. “Good fucking girl,” he praised and filled your mouth with the fingers of his other hand. “You’re gonna have the time of your life.”

He lowered himself so he was right face to face with your tits and began rolling your nipples in between his now moist fingers. The sensation was dizzying, and your entire body shook as he continued to tease you, knowing that he had the power to unleash an orgasmic storm. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins as he pulled them up and then released, watching your breasts jiggle as they fell. Your breath was shallow and ragged with every pinch and twist, and you felt as if you were on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the abyss of pleasure.

“Fuck, Lando, I could cum,” you squirmed, your back arching into him.

He chuckled deeply, a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, baby, you haven’t even begun to feel my touch yet.”

His rubs on your nipples intensified as if he was really trying to see if he could make you cum from that alone. You moaned and writhed beneath him, your body aching for more. He knew what he was doing to you and he was enjoying every moment of it.

Slowly, he began to trail his fingers down your body, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and dip, his lips following the path of his hands. He paused at the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing over your panties, causing you to gasp and shudder.

Suddenly, he backed away and sat against the headboard. “Come here,” he patted the space between his legs and you crawled to him. “Turn around, rest your back against me, that’s it,” he instructed, helping you adjust your position. You could feel his warmth against your back, his erection pressing against your lower back. He rubbed your shoulders for a bit before his hands made their descent once again, his thumbs brushing past your nipples and down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist.

He tugged on your hips, urging you to slide down his crotch. He settled his hands on your lower back, pressing you against him, allowing you to feel the full length of him. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling his hardness, your body responding to his commanding presence.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, and you did so, your heart racing at his command. He began to rub your inner thighs, his fingers tracing the line of your panties. You felt his breath on the back of your neck, his hot breath making you shiver slightly. 

“You’re so wet, so receptive,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “I want to feel you come apart.”

Your hips responded under his touch, arching up, your need for him growing more intense with every second. With one hand, he held you down, pinning you against him as his other hand continued to explore your most intimate parts. His fingers danced across the fabric of your panties, teasing you mercilessly. He kept his promise of a slow, sensual build-up, but your body was hungry for him, eager to be consumed by the passion he had promised.

"Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, "take them off, touch me."

Your hips bucked again, unconsciously grinding against his hand. Lando's eyes turned a darker shade of green following your reaction, and you could see the hunger in his gaze. He pressed his digits over your clothed pussy, this time pressing harder, rubbing your wet flesh through the delicate fabric. Your juices flowed freely, his hand slick with your arousal.

Your back arched up, your head thrown back on his shoulder, your eyes closed tightly, lost in the sensations that were flooding your body. You were on the verge of the most intense climax of your life, and you knew it.

He gently pushed your panties to the side, exposing your glistening, swollen folds. His fingers trailed along your skin, sending sensational shocks through you. His eyes took in every detail, every curve and color. You were so beautiful, and his heart pounded harder at the sight. He reached up to kiss you, his lips demanding, possessive, yet tender. Your hands clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

And then finally, finally, he tapped your clit lightly with his fingertips causing your entire body to jolt in response. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was maddening. Your muscles tightened, your breath hitched and you knew this was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when he would take you to the edge of ecstasy and push you over.

“Lando,” you moaned his name softly, your voice trembling with longing. “Oh, please.”

“Almost there.” With one hand, he held you in place, the other began to circle your clit, gently at first, then mounting in pressure as your breath grew shallower and hips moved against him.

He cupped your pussy in his hands, spread wide open for him. The sight was a feast for his eyes, and the feel of you, wet and open and squirming under his touch, sent a deeper lust coursing through him. His finger found your entrance, sliding through your juices, coating itself completely. Lando's finger moved in and out of you, slow and steady, syncing with the rhythm of his thumb circling your clit.

He watched as his digit disappeared into your body, connecting with the very core of your need. You moaned into his neck, holding onto the back of it, your body trembling with eagerness, your mind consumed by the erotic scene unfolding before you. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, preparing your body for his invasion, his thumb still working in time with his fingers.

You felt like you were melting into him, the pleasure radiating from your center, spreading throughout your entire body. Your moans became louder, more urgent, your hips bucking against his hand. Lando's eyes were locked on your face, watching your expression change from pleasure to bliss to raw, unbridled lust. You were gasping for breath, your body writhing under his skilled hands. It was numerous times better than any night you have spent alone with a vibrator between your legs.

He knew the moment was coming, he could feel it in the way your muscles tensed, the way your juices flowed freely, the way your moans grew louder and more intense. Your whole body was begging for release, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

With a gentleness that belied the intensity of the situation, he slid his fingers inside you, pushing past your tight entrance and finding that sweet spot that made you gasp with pleasure. You arched your back, your head thrashing on his shoulder, your nails digging into the back of his neck as he began to piston his fingers in and out of you, finding the perfect rhythm to drive you over the edge.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he plunged them deep into your core, finding that special place that made you scream in delight. Your entire body shook, convulsing with the force of your climax. You arched your back, your cries echoing through the room, as your pleasure coursed through you like an electric current.

Lando watched in awe as you came apart in his arms, the sight of your body, so beautiful and vulnerable in that moment, making his own desire for you burn even hotter.

"That's it, baby,” he continued to stroke your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, until you were spent, your body limp and panting against him. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

Finally, he eased his fingers out of your heated core, the wetness glistening on his fingers. He brought them to your mouth, smearing the juices all over your lips and chin, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Taste yourself, baby. You're a goddess." You opened your mouth hesitantly, allowing his fingers to press against your tongue, tasting the sweet nectar of your own neediness. As you did so, Lando's lips found yours, his tongue slowly sliding past your lips to mingle with the taste of your climax.

“I’m going to taste you first hand,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

With that, he gently lowered you onto the bed, spreading your legs wider as he positioned himself between them. Before he dove in, he took off your panties and then proceeded to take off his shirt as well, revealing his toned chest and chiseled abs, sending a new wave of want through you. Your eyes followed his every move, every flex of his muscles as he moved closer, your heart pounding in excitement of what was about to come.

He bent your legs into knees and pushed them back, having your pussy on full display for him. He looked at you while pressing on your legs, his eyes burning with craving and lust, and you could see that he was about to devour you.

Lando’s mouth watered at the sight of your glistening cunt, leaking wet and pulsing for him. He leaned forward, kissing the back of your thighs softly, trailing his lips upward until he reached your inner thighs. Your breath hitched as he blew gently on your damp skin, sending shivers through you.

With a final deep breath, Lando extended his tongue just long enough to lightly flick your clit, sending electric shocks throughout your body. You arched your back, your hips lifting off the bed in response, your moans filling the room. His tongue teased your sensitive bud, drawing circles around it, then darting in and out of your folds in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Your hips pushed against him, urging him to continue, to give you more of what you craved. Lando obliged, his tongue becoming more insistent, flicking and teasing your sensitive flesh.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your hands clawing at the sheets beneath you as his tongue continued to work its magic.

His tongue found your entrance, sliding in and out, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers earlier, except this time, it was slower, more sensual, while the tip of his nose perfectly aligned with your clit, stimulating it with every motion. You whimpered, your hands gripping his hair almost painfully as you tried to pull him closer.

His fingers joined in, sinking into your wetness with ease, curling inside you in a way that felt like home. He moved in tandem with his tongue, creating a symphony of pleasure that left you breathless and writhing beneath him.

Lando's eyes were locked on your face, devouring every expression that crossed it. He could see the raw hunger in your eyes, and it only fueled his wish to give you more. Your moans grew louder, more urgent, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to pleasure you. You felt like you were on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief.

“Want to finish yourself on my face on your own?” he slurped your juices, just teasing your entrance with his tongue. You cried out, your hands finding their way to his head, holding him to you as you started moving up and down his face.

“Fuck, baby, yes, use my face to get yourself off,” he muffled against you, encouraging your grinding motions. “Use me.”

He might’ve been the dominant one, but he was still there for your pleasure, for your enjoyment. He was there to submit to your every wish and request, to be used by you. And pleasure you he did, with his skilled tongue and passionate devotion. Each flick, each lap of his tongue sent your nerves on fire, your body shaking and pulsating with pleasure.

He reached up, grabbing your thighs, pulling you even closer to him, burying his face further into your pussy. The combination of his hot breath mixed with the taste of your arousal was intoxicating. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Your movements sped up, your hips grinding against his face, your nails digging into his scalp as you fought to keep yourself from falling over the edge. He could sense it, the moment when your body would explode in a gasm of pure pleasure, and he eagerly awaited it, his tongue never stopping its rhythmic dance with your sensitive nub.

Your body arched off the bed, your moans growing louder and more frenzied as your orgasm built to a crescendo. He continued to devour your pussy, his tongue never wavering, his nose pressed against your clit, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements, urging you on.

And then, it happened. Your body shivered, your muscles tightened, and your voice filled the room in a scream of ecstasy. The vibrations shook Lando's face, his tongue never leaving your clit, as he reveled in the pleasure he had given you.

It was a glorious moment, Lando felt like he had reached the pinnacle of his seduction skills. He savored the taste of your arousal, still on his tongue, and smiled to himself as he watched you catch your breath, still panting on the bed.

“You taste amazing, baby,” he whispered, kissing your inner thighs gently. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

You couldn't help but blush as his words sent a shiver through you, your body still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm he had just brought you to. "You make me feel like a goddess," you managed to say, your voice still thick with aspiration.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because you are."

Lando's eyes never left your face as he slowly stood up, your gaze locked on his toned body as he towered over you.

“Think you could take me now?” he reached down, offering you a hand to help you sit up.

“Fuck, yes,” you jumped to your knees, pawing at his pants with eager hands. “I’ve never wanted someone more in my life.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers, wanting to take them both down in one go, too impatient to have his cock spring out.

Lando laughed, shaking his head playfully. "Slow down, baby. This isn’t about me, but about you. It's about what you need, what you’re yearning for."

“But,” you started, your mouth turning into a pout. “I want to take you in my mouth.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, gently pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. It was impossible to look away as he stepped back to remove his bottoms, his erection springing free, standing tall in front of you. The sight so beautiful made you take a deep breath in, thick and hard, dripping with pre-cum. Your hands shook with fancy how he would feel in your palms as you waited for go-ahead to touch him.

Lando stepped closer, pushing his hips forward. “Think you could manage?” he asked with a sly smirk.

You didn't need another invitation. A grin spread across your face as you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, feeling the silky skin against your fingers. Lando groaned, his hips bucking slightly, but he stayed still, allowing you to savor the moment. You leaned in, your lips nearly touching the head of his cock, the salty taste of him making your mouth water. But you pulled back, teasing him, your eyes locked on his.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whispered, your voice trembling with lust.

Lando groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he reveled in your touch and your words. He reached down, gently grasping the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his hardness. "Go ahead, baby," he said, his voice low and rough with need. "Take what you want."

With a shiver of excitement, you lifted his cock upward and pressed your lips to the smooth skin of his shaft. You traced the length of him with your tongue, savoring the taste of him and then rested the tip on your tongue, feeling the weight of his cock, before closing your mouth over the head.

His breath hitched, his hands gripping your hair tightly as you began to suck him, your mouth moving in a rhythm that matched your earlier hand job. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, his precum mixing with your saliva, only making you want him more.

Lando’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back in pleasure as you continued to take him deep into your throat. His hips jerked at the sensation, and you knew that you held all of his hankering in your hands and mouth. You took him deeper, your tongue swirling around the velvety smooth head, tasting the saltiness that leaked from him. He moaned, his hands threading through your hair, holding you tightly against him as you continued to tease him with your mouth.

“Oh, god, yes,” he groaned, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re killing me, baby.”

You couldn’t help but smile around him, vibrations of your laugh tickling his sensitive skin. He filled your mouth, his taste overwhelming yet delicious. You moaned around him, feeling the muscles of his shaft flex beneath your tongue as you continued to take him deeper.

Lando’s hands gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he began to thrust slowly, trying to find more pleasure. Your moans grew louder, more urgent, your throat working to accommodate his size. You reached out, one hand gripping his balls, the other reaching between your legs to rub your clit, letting out a low, guttural moan as your orgasm began to build.

Hearing your cries only fueled him more, and Lando began to thrust faster, harder. Your orgasm was upon you quickly, your body trembling and shaking with each thrust. You held on tight to his cock, your hand cupping and stroking his balls, the fingers on your clit rubbing in a frenzied pattern that sent you spiraling into bliss.

Lando's eyes didn't stop watching you, his expression a mixture of pleasure and hunger. He could feel the moment when you would explode, and he pushed you off his cock and onto your back, replacing your fingers with his.

“What did I tell you? No more making yourself cum on your own, baby, not unless I tell you to,” he growled, his eyes dark and intense. “Let me be the one to make you feel this good.”

He bent down, his tongue darting out to kiss and nibble at your neck, your collarbone, your earlobe, his fingers still rubbing your clit. You whimpered, your body arching off the bed, eager for more of his touch. He whispered into your ear, "I need to see you, baby. I need to watch you cum."

You opened your eyes, gazing into his as he continued to torture your clit with his digits. Lando's eyes never left yours, his lips twisting into a smirk as he watched you lose control. It was a glorious sight, your body shaking, your voice screeching in pure pleasure as you orgasm overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he urged, his fingers moving faster, matching the rhythm of his lips against your skin. "Cum for me, baby. Cum hard."

Your body tensed, your orgasm building to a crescendo. You screamed his name, your nails digging into his back as you exploded around his fingers. Lando watched, a satisfied grin on his face, as your body shuddered and convulsed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your orgasm began to subside, leaving you panting and breathless. You lay there, spent and writhing in the afterglow, your mind still swimming with the intensity of the moment.

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, and whispered, "You look so beautiful right now,"

With a contented sigh, you pulled him closer and kissed him deeply, your tongues intertwining as your bodies continued to pant and tremble.

“Please, fuck me now,” you pleaded, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Lando's eyes sparkled with craving as he whispered against your lips, "Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to ride me, take control for once."

You bit your lip, a thrill of excitement running through you at the thought of being in charge at this moment. Lando helped you to your feet, guiding you to straddle him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached between your legs, positioning him at your entrance.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and filled with expectancy.

Your nod was almost imperceptible, your eyes locked onto his, and with a deep breath, you pushed forward. Lando's cock slid into you with such ease, and filled you completely. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the sensation.

He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You alright, baby?”

“Yeah,” you managed to murmur, the initial stretch leaving you a bit dizzy.

“Good,” he said, kissing your chest, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Whenever you’re ready, show me what you can do. Ride me.”

With a renewed sense of power and confidence, you began to move, rocking your hips in a slow steady rhythm. Lando watched you with admiration, his hands never leaving your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with each move. His teeth sank into your lower lip and you could feel his hot breath against your skin.

“You feel so amazing,” he whispered, his voice low and needy.

You moaned, riding him harder, your hips bucking in time with his thrusts. His hands slid up your spine, his fingers gripping your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The taste of his tongue mixed with the saltiness of your sweat, making you moan even louder.

“Lando, you’re so deep,” you whined, your words punctuated by his thrusts.

“You can take it,” he reassured you, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer, his hips bucking hard against you. Your breasts bounced, the nipples rubbing against his chest, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, baby, so tight," he hissed, matching your rhythm. "Look at you, riding me so expertly," he praised, his eyes locked on your body. "You're so fucking beautiful."

You tossed your head back, your hair cascading down your back, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails biting into the flesh as your orgasm built, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

"Oh, god, yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking wildly, meeting his every thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice ragged. “Fuck yourself onto my cock, make yourself cum, use me as your personal fucktoy,” he begged, his hands tightening around your hips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, the pleasure building and building, until finally you reached the peak, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, your body arching off him, your muscles tensing and then releasing, your core clenching around his cock as you exploded in bliss. Lando watched, a look of pure satisfaction on his face, his eyes dark and hungry.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, thrusting harder as you cried out, your pussy pulsating around his cock. “Cum for me, let me feel you shake around me.”

You fell into his arms, your body limp and spent, as he continued to thrust inside you. With each thrust, his cock glided against your sensitive walls, sending shivers of delight across your whole being.

Your body was still trembling, your orgasm lingering in your veins, as Lando finally pulled out, his cock glistening with your juices.

He helped you to lie down on the bed, your legs spread wide, your pussy inviting him back in. Your eyes never left his as he positioned himself at your entrance once more, your breath catching, awaiting his entry.

“Ready to go again?” he asked, his voice low and sultry, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes,” you gasped, drunk on the high of your orgasm and eager for more.

With a slow and deliberate thrust, he slid back inside you, his cock fitting perfectly within your tight walls. You moaned loudly, your body adjusting to the sensation of being filled once again.

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good, baby," he whispered, his voice low and gruff.

He started to move inside you, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. Your hands found their way to his back, clutching at his skin as you matched his pace, your bodies perfectly in sync.

Your eyes never left his, locked onto his as he looked deep into your soul. Why were you even going out looking for a good time when you had this next door?

"Fuck me, Lando," you pleaded, your voice ragged with need. “Harder.”

Lando grinned, his dark eyes gleaming. He picked up his pace, his hips pounding into you with a fierce intensity that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your screams filled the room as he plowed into you, his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep thrust.

With each surge, you could sense yourself drawing nearer to the brink, your body quivering with excitement. Lando's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his voice hoarse with lust. "You feel so fucking good, baby. You're going to cum for me again already, aren’t you?”

"Yes," you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. "I'm so close."

“So fucking desperate and needy. I can tell no one knew how to handle this pussy before.” It was true, no one else had ever made you feel this way. Lando had tapped into something within you that no one else had ever reached.

You moaned, your hips bucking in time with his thrusts. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet slurping noise of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling with the force of your arousal.

"Harder, Lando," you begged, your eyes locked onto his as his hips pistoned into you.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his hips bucking hard against you. “And only getting tighter. Sit up, baby, watch as you cum on my cock.”

You followed his command, propping yourself on your elbows and watching as his cock slid in and out of you. Lando's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as his cock slammed into you with brutal force, your breasts bouncing wildly with every thrust.

“See what mess you’re making on my cock? You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he taunted, his eyes never leaving your flushed face as you looked at the white ring around his cock. “You love getting fucked, don’t you?”

You moaned, head thrown back, eyes rolling in your head as you felt yourself being driven closer to the edge with every deep thrust. The sensations were overwhelming. Every time he hit your G-spot, an electrical charge shot through your body, making your whole being feel alive and on fire.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whined, your voice ragged and breathless.

Lando grinned. He picked up his pace, thrusting harder and faster, his cock slamming into you with a furious intensity. You felt yourself being swept up in a tidal wave of pure ecstasy, every nerve ending singing with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. “Let me feel your pussy milk my cock as you cum all over me.”

You screamed, your body arching and shaking as the most intense orgasm of your life washed over you. Your pussy clenched and released around his cock, squeezing him, as you collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air.

Lando watched, his eyes growing wider with every thrust, his body tensing as he felt your pussy pulsating around his cock.

"Fuck, baby, that's it," he groaned, his hips bucking wildly, matching your rhythm. "I'm gonna cum too. Fuck, your pussy feels so good, so tight. I can't hold back any longer."

Your body shook with pleasure, your breaths shallow and rapid, as you felt his cock throbbing inside you. Lando's eyes locked onto yours, his face contorted with bliss as he thrust harder and faster, his orgasm building to an explosive climax.

"Oh, fuck!" he roared, his body convulsing as he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking every last drop.

You lay there, panting and sweaty, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, as Lando pulled out, his cock covered with your juices. He plopped down on the bed next to you, his chest visibly rising and falling.

“I hope… I managed… to do better… than that… toy,” Lando panted.

“You did so much better,” you breathed, affirming. “Fuck, Lando, that was incredible. I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

Lando grinned, his eyes shining with triumph. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "Then you've been missing out, baby. That was just a taste of what you could have every night, if you wanted."

You laughed softly, snuggling into his embrace. "I'm not sure I could keep up with you."

"You'd be surprised," he said, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "But I'll be here, whenever you need me, you know, just a door knock away.”

You smiled, imagining all the nights you could’ve spent with Lando instead of wasting your time with random hookups that all ended the same.

You turned on your side and propped yourself up on your elbow. “Should I throw all my toys away now then?”

"Not necessarily," Lando chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. "I mean, they served their purpose, but maybe we could use those toys of yours next time you want to spice things up. Just imagine how much better they'll feel with me inside you."

His words went straight into your core and made you shiver. You imagined it too, the intensity of it all, his cock and those toys, all at once, filling you, stretching you, pleasuring you in ways you've never been before.

"I like the sound of that," you said, running your fingers lightly over his chest, trying to play it cool. "But I have to say, you inside me feels better than any toy I’ve ever had."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well then, I guess that makes me your favorite toy now, huh?"

“Maybe,” you purred, your hand trailing down his chest and drifting lower to his hips. "But I think I'd need to test out your battery life first."