#saliva benefits

[happyteethcare]

The Role of Saliva: Why It’s Essential for Oral Health and How to Improve Saliva Production Naturally

Saliva plays a critical role in oral health, acting as a natural defense system for the mouth. This fluid, produced by the salivary glands, not only helps in digestion but also protects teeth and gums, fights infection, and aids in speaking and swallowing. Understanding the functions of saliva and learning ways to boost its production naturally is vital for maintaining a healthy smile. The…

[capturelifedental]

Drinking More Water Protects Your Teeth? Discover the Benefits

Water is essential for overall health, but its benefits extend beyond keeping you hydrated and maintaining bodily functions. Drinking water can also play a crucial role in maintaining your dental health. 

At Capture Life Dental Care, we are dedicated to providing exceptional dental services to help you achieve and maintain a healthy, beautiful smile. 

Here’s how increasing your water intake can protect your teeth and promote a healthier smile.

1. Natural Mouth Cleanser

Water acts as a natural cleanser for your mouth. Unlike sugary or acidic beverages, water rinses away food particles and residue without leaving harmful substances behind. Drinking water after meals or snacks helps wash away debris that can feed bacteria and lead to plaque buildup and cavities.

2. Promotes Saliva Production

Saliva is one of your mouth's primary defenses against tooth decay. It contains proteins and minerals that protect tooth enamel and neutralize acids produced by bacteria. Staying hydrated ensures that your body can produce enough saliva, which helps maintain a balanced pH level in your mouth and prevents dry mouth, a condition that can increase the risk of cavities and gum disease.

3. Reduces Acidic Damage

Acidic foods and beverages, such as citrus fruits, sodas, and wine, can erode tooth enamel. Drinking water helps to dilute and wash away these acids, reducing their harmful effects. Sipping water during and after consuming acidic items can help protect your enamel from erosion and maintain the integrity of your teeth.

4. Fluoride Benefits

In many areas, tap water contains fluoride, a mineral known for its dental benefits. Fluoride strengthens tooth enamel, making it more resistant to decay. Drinking fluoridated water is an easy and effective way to incorporate this protective mineral into your daily routine, especially if you do not use fluoridated toothpaste or mouthwash.

5. Helps Prevent Staining

Coffee, tea, red wine, and certain fruits and vegetables can stain your teeth over time. Drinking water alongside or after consuming these foods and beverages can help rinse away pigments and reduce the likelihood of stains setting into your enamel. This simple habit can help maintain a brighter, whiter smile.

6. Fights Bad Breath

Halitosis, or bad breath, is often caused by food particles and bacteria in the mouth. Water helps to flush out these particles and keeps your mouth moist, preventing the dry conditions that bacteria thrive in. 

Drinking water regularly can help keep your breath fresh and your mouth feeling clean.

7. Supports Overall Health

Good dental health is closely linked to overall health. Conditions such as diabetes, heart disease, and respiratory issues have been connected to poor oral hygiene. 

Drinking plenty of water supports your body’s overall health, which in turn supports your oral health. A healthy body is better equipped to fight off infections, including those that can affect your gums and teeth.

8. Calorie-Free Alternative

Choosing water over sugary or acidic beverages can significantly reduce your risk of tooth decay. Sodas, juices, and sports drinks often contain high levels of sugar and acids that erode enamel and promote cavities. 

Water is a calorie-free, sugar-free alternative that hydrates without harming your teeth.

How to Incorporate More Water into Your Day

Carry a Water Bottle: Keep a reusable water bottle with you to encourage regular sipping throughout the day.

Set Reminders: Use phone alarms or apps to remind you to drink water regularly.

Flavor It Naturally: Add slices of cucumber, lemon, or mint to your water for a refreshing twist without added sugars.

Drink Before Meals: Make it a habit to drink a glass of water before meals to aid in digestion and keep your mouth clean.

Opt for Water at Restaurants: Choose water over other beverages when dining out to help maintain your dental health and save money.

Conclusion

Drinking more water is a simple yet powerful way to protect your teeth and promote overall dental health. It helps cleanse your mouth, supports saliva production, reduces acidic damage, and can even aid in preventing tooth decay and bad breath. 

By making water your go-to beverage, you can enjoy a healthier, brighter smile and contribute to your overall well-being. So, take a sip and toast to the health of your teeth!

Ready to take the next step in your dental care journey? Visit Capture Life Dental Care to discover our comprehensive range of services and schedule your appointment today!

[shotmrmiller]

doing everything within your power to not get into any more hand to hand practice with simon because he's very very rough with you during them. he doesn't care that he could easily snap you in half like a pencil, "ya oughta learn 'ow to take a man my size down f'good. always be prepared for the worst."

it's terrible. if it wasn't for the fact that you always see johnny limp away after his sparring session while shooting you a grin with pink teeth, you'd think simon has it out for you in particular.

except he doesn't. (or doesn't he?) all those finger shaped bruises on your flesh are all purely for his own benefit. seeing the mottled skin on your neck from where he held on a little too tight, your arms from where he pinned you in place at his utter mercy, the blotches on your legs, where his fingers dug into your inner thighs-

his eyes cross at the thought of eventually being able to leave those same bruises in the exact same spots but with his mouth instead. saliva pools in his mouth when he's got your face pressed firm into the mat, neck bared, a blank canvas for his lips, his teeth.

simon wonders if you'd be ticklish if he were to suckle an ugly bruise right over your racing pulse.

(starved to have you come in his mouth, his tongue flat on your pebbled clit, pulsating, as if it's got a heartbeat of its own.)

for now he watches you receive sympathy pats on your back as it's your turn again, swallowing thickly when he spots fresh bruises on your calves, close to your ankles.

art requires a certain cruelty.

[bunsiesblog]

Viktor Relationship HC

Viktor x GN!Reader

Purely self indulgent headcanons for Viktor in a relationship. You want fluff? Here is fluff.

tags: s1!viktor, established relationship, typical domesticity and fluff

➽───────────────❥

Viktor prefers subtle displays of affection. His intimacy is quiet—a hushed whispered shared between the two of you.

Very public and grand displays of affection tend to leave him embarrassed and flustered. This doesn’t mean he shies away from showing the world he is yours. But he prefers those intimate acts to be shared between the two of you.

That being said—he is a man in love. And he simply can’t help himself when you are near. So he has found a few ways to express his devotion to you:

A gentle bump of the knee under the table as you both sit together.

Interlocked pinkies. A touch so small it might have been missed if not for the faint smile pulling at his lips.

A hidden hand resting on your thigh while he reads or works—absentmindedly tracing circles with his thumb.

A tender touch to the small of your back as he guides you through crowds. Not only to keep you close but to keep him grounded as well.

Quick kiss to your forehead when parting ways. “Take care, lásko.”

Viktor adores holding your hands. Such an innocent and simple act leaves him feeling profoundly connected to you.

He often does it absentmindedly—reaching for your hand when his mind is elsewhere. His thumb traces your knuckles or the faint lines of your palm. He’ll even play with your fingers, as though committing their shape to memory.

Our lovely scientist quite likes the size difference between your two hands. He’ll press his palm flat against yours, marveling at the contrast with a soft smile on his face. “It’s quite unfair that I am so lanky, no?”

When privacy is reliably assured, Viktor rather enjoys spoiling you with affection and being spoiled in return. Here are some favorites of his in no particular order:

Kissing. And not the kind that is full of tongue and saliva (although he can acknowledge certain … situations … where it has its benefit.) He prefers the soft and revert kisses he gives you. The sort of kiss where he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks, and simply embraces you. Like he’d rather be at your lips all day than breathe air.

Viktor also has a pension for kissing you in places that are not just your lips. His kisses are gentle, playful, and unexpectedly intimate. Some of his favorite places to leave them on you are the inside of your wrist, the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck, and the tip of your nose.

He particularly enjoys the way you laugh or squirm when he traces light kisses to your neck and jawline. Viktor will hold your hands to keep you from wiggling away. Despite being quiet by nature, Viktor’s smirk betrays how much he enjoys hearing you laugh. “You want me to stop? But you make such sweet sounds for me, Koťátko. Just one more.”

A quiet night in the lab made him realize just how much he enjoys seeking your warmth and filling in the empty spaces between you. When you’re perched at the edge of his work table, Viktor will instinctively step between your legs and rest his hand on your thighs as he looks up at you. It’s any wonder how he gets any sort of work done when you’re around.

To others, he is a polite but distant man. Constantly consumed by his work and ambition. But with you, he is something else entirely: gentle, tender, and devoted. And it is clear to anyone who knows him just how special you are.

Viktor always gives you his unwavering attention. When you speak, he listens. His whiskey eyes are held steady to your own. Oftentimes, when he thinks you won’t notice, they’ll flick down to your lips. And he’ll rub a thoughtful hand over his jaw, trying his best to hide an amused smile. “Hm? Yes, I’m listening, sweetheart.”

His reserved nature doesn’t lend itself to overt sentimentality. But with you? It shines. There is a tenderness in him that only you can bring out.

Viktor has a weathered notebook he keeps in his coat pocket for when inspiration strikes or he simply can’t put his pen down. However, among the haphazard grocery lists or scribbled equation are notes about you like ‘prefers chamomile tea when anxious’ or ‘smiles when it rains’. Even the margins of his notes are decorated with absentminded doodles of you.

He most definitely is an act of service kind of man. The chain of your necklace is broken? Or your watch won’t tick past 6:33? He’ll silently take it off your hands, fiddle with the repair in the quiet hours of his lab, and leave it for you to be found the next day. Any sort of thanks you try to give him are met with a humble “it was nothing.” Although the blush on his ears tell a different story.

[anantaru]

what about friends w benefits w aventurine but he's actually in love or something idkk im just love with ur writing♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)��♡

・✶ ｡ synopsis — aventurine and you have sworn that your special relationship would never cross the most important line <3

warnings — fwb, spooning position, big dick aventurine is in love, fem! reader <3

aventurine lays behind you as his nose silently forges a road up your neck and behind your ear for his lips to swiftly follow— for once, he controls himself and leisurely drapes one arm around your waist, pressing your back against his cold chest.

you cannot see it, yet his eyes glint with that familiar mix of curiosity and, well, something else— something deeper that he never voiced nor actually planned to voice at all.

since your arrangement had been clear from the start;

friends with benefits, point blank, in fact, it helped the both of you let go of much needed steam every now and then— it's perfect, truly, if feelings aren't involved that is.

yet here it began, because every time you were together there was an unspoken tension on his part, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

he strokes over your waist now, his touch lingering way longer than necessary as he slowly lined himself up with your heat, "you feel a little tense," he whispers, voice soft, heart beating.

as he inserts his tip, his fingers trail down your bare back, sending a multitude of shivers across your skin as you immediately lean back into his touch, craving the comfort and the thrill— the somewhat exciting thought of being intimate with a man like aventurine himself yet keeping it hidden from outsiders, even from your own emotions.

as his hands roamed over your body, exploring familiar territory, you felt the practiced ease of your routine and just how well he knew you by now— not only that, but your body.

ugh, when he preaches his cock through you for the very first time this time you moan out instantly, it makes him groan too, you know, even louder when you gets breathless from the pressure building in your stomach.

far away from your sight, there was always an underlying tenderness in his actions, a carefulness that contradicted the casual nature of your relationship, "e-enjoying yourself?" he drawls, his voice low.

if he could only tell you just how beautiful you are without making it sound weird.

you grind back as he squeezed your ass, hard, against his palm— that's more like it, that's how you like it and how your special friendship should be like, aventurine knows, he needs to know.

you grind against his pelvis, circling your hips, fucking back into him without pattern and turning into an embarrassing mess of moans and whimpers.

you whine, trying to escape the hot curl and fluttering in your chest, "always with you, you know t-that."

and yeah, that's something he loves to hear— next to pressing and thrusting into your cunt until he feels your slick slither down his shaft and oh? having his fingers on your clit too? making you feel so good.

aventurine cannot stop himself anymore, with hunger he rolls and rubs his fingers harder against your clit, faster, ignoring the twinge in his wrist as you began to mercilessly shake against his chest, circling your hips and squeezing him with your hole.

it's so filthy, having his spit coat and mark you up while his thick cock snapped you open in each and every thrust of his��� and you always knew it'll hurt a little whenever he twitches within your walls, he must hurt with a size like that, in fact, just looking at him and you'd immediately know he's packed down there.

in spite of fact something behind your sight happens— because you see, his gaze softens for a moment, and there it was, a flicker of something he always tries to hide— a deep, unspoken affection that fuck, damn it, he was in love, aventurine fucking loved you.

he began to kiss your neck more furiously, kiss, suck and bite it— then go slower again, messily lap and add enough saliva on your skin so it'd glow even through the shadowed bedroom as to savor this very moment.

sheer unawareness covers the deepest truths— while love, lust and passion, all formed to dust in order to keep your friendship going for as long as he was able to would not resort in any problems.

no trouble, correct? if only you knew how it has been killing him inside.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[hazelfoureyes]

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHaving!Reader (has pussy and is called girl but I mean…I don’t know their business), casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor’s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike. 

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it. 

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful. 

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.” 

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon. 

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate. 

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so. 

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté. 

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body. 

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him. 

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting. 

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was. 

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you. 

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before. 

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in. 

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in. 

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced. 

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you. 

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time. 

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off. 

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost. 

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold. 

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked. 

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance. 

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous. 

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.  

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now. 

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way. 

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard. 

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise. 

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.  

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all. 

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing. 

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips. 

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why. 

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward. 

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure. 

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[cherry-hulu]

greetings...i respectfully would like to place down my 2 cents for diamond life

reader is hard at work under the desk in woozi's studio, whenever a member-specifically shua and minghao or honestly whichever member wants to blow off some steam while recording, all woozi has to do is pull them off him, hold them by the hair and let said member go nuts...the sadists that they are 🤐

— Accelerando!

Warnings: woozi x free use!reader x joshua x the8, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), tears, gagging, lots of cum, voyeurism, filming

More like this... Diamond Life : The Series

Recordings can either be the smoothest sailing days or the harshest battles against the flow. Sometimes it would be over in a few hours, sometimes it could take up the whole day.

When the members said Woozi practically lived in his Universe Factory, they meant in. He even had his own foldable bed in it and everything. All his amenities at one place for his comfort.

Out of all the members, Woozi would argue that he benefited from you the most. He had always loved the idea of cockwarming, especially while he worked on his chair. The idea of someone keeping his cock warm and hard while he made music was magical.

You sat under his desk, legs crossed, eyes closed, head resting on his hard muscle packed thigh, mouth occupied with his heavy thick dick in your mouth. You may seem at rest but your tongue definitely wasn't. Occasionally moving, licking the veins from the sides of his cock. Throat constricting at carefully calculated times.

"Lets do one more run towards the end. I wasn't satisfied with the last part, I think both of you can do more." Woozi spoke, his fingers pressing on the button talking to Joshua and Minghao who was in the booth recording for a duet.

Minghao sighed and nodded, Joshua just held his headphones in understanding. The two calmest members of the group, but the last person they'd want to piss off. An enigma of the saying 'The calm before the storm.'

The two went for a few more rounds in the studio, before slowly, the frustration started creeping in, tension building up in the booth until it was showing in their voices.

Truth is, Woozi was doing this on purpose, he believes that there's no better view than you choking and crying on a dick. He would always do it to you, loving the bulge his cock would imprint on your throat, the way your glassy eyes look up at him showing no signs of thinking, completely dumb and cock drunk.

As much as he loves seeing it in first person, he can't help but wonder what it'd look like in second. The boys really have spending alot more time together, Seungkwan's enthusiasm over exhibitionism was starting to get to him.

"Hyung.. I don't think I can do it anymore, it's getting overwhelming. We've been here for hours repeating the same line over and over again. I need a break." Minghao complained, ever so well thought out and collected, but his body language says otherwise. He looked stiff, eyes tired and basically begging for rest.

"I agree, I think it would be better for us to have a break and recollect ourselves, maybe it's the exhaustion that's causing the bad outcomes." Joshua nodded, looking back and forth between his friends.

You open your eyes at the sound of their voice, looking up to Woozi with a hopeful look. He told you of his plans asking for consent, and you eagerly nodded not even a second after the words left his mouth making him chuckle and call you a slut.. which you ultimately got heated up over, and no, you didn't beat him to death, but your pussy may say otherwise.

The pale man was silent for a minute as if he was thinking, before ultimately agreeing and letting the boys out. As the duo leave the booth, Woozi pulls his dick out of your mouth making your saliva drip all over the floor and off his dick.

Rolling his chair to the side, he reveals you to the boys, looking pretty all wet and open wide for the two. "It would be better for you two to release your frustrations rather than have them bottled up, 'no?" Woozi said, dick standing up and and as proud as himself for his plan execution.

"Yeah, definitely." Joshua sighed, pulling his dick out of his pants, getting harder and harder each passing second as you crawl on your fours to get to him. He gives his dick a few strokes before shoving himself in all the way in your mouth.

Joshua, Seventeen's Gentleman, was nothing like the man the public perceives of him. He was anything but gentle, always leaving you bruised and nearly unconscious after fucking you. Cuffing you down, pressing you hard against the bed, everything but being gentle.

Minghao was silent, but he wasn't non threatening, situating himself behind you, his focus immediately zeroed in on your exposed cunt. You were wearing only a thin oversized shirt — probably from Mingyu — and nothing else. What was the point of wearing under wear when it's just gonna be put aside anyways?

The chinese man was known for his relentless and often unfiltered mouth. He wasn't any different in sex, seemingly having developed an oral fixation on your pussy, always eating you out whenever given the chance to. He usually starts off slow, before adding his fingers, and going feral using you.

Your whimpers were muffled by the dick inside your mouth, heavy and big. Joshua surprisingly was starting off slow as well, probably due to the younger kneeling behind you. But his pace doesn't stop him from going rough. Giving you deep, hard thrusts, that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Tears were already rolling of your face, muted gagging sounds emmited from you as he sensually fucked your mouth as if it was your cunt.

Woozi felt like he was in a real life porno. Sitting like a king in his chair with his legs in a manspread, slowly jerking off his hard on. From his perspective, the bulge on your mouth was extremely evident. Him and Joshua were pretty similar in girth, having only an inch difference in length.

From behind you, Minghao was finally starting to quicken his pace. Slender fingers now toying with your cunt, tongue lapping and licking all over you resulting in nasty slurping sounds. He didn't knew whose cum was mixxed with yours, but whoever it was, his diet must be healthy for it to taste this good. Or maybe it was just your magic.

His tongue slides in and out of you, practically cleaning you up to get you ready for a fresh new batch of cum inside of you.

Joshua was now collecting your hair and putting it up in a pony tail, his big hands giving him no struggle with the task. You mentally prepare yourself as this was his ritual before losing all his mercy on you. He groaned as he gives you a deep hard thrust, before pulling out and pushing back in, this time with a much faster, deeper, pace.

Minghao moves his face away from your cunt, opting to finger you instead. His dick was getting painfully hard, having been ignored for too long. His patience runs thin when he's horny.

Finally taking his dick out, he pushes in inside of you, immediately matching with his hyungs pace in a way that he was in fucking into you at the same time Joshua was. Two dicks pressing deeply inside of you at the same time, at the same intervals.

You sounded and looked like a mess. Torn between gagging and moaning. Your face was flushed, full on crying now. Had it not been for Joshua in front of you, your face would be on the floor planted flat right now.

Woozi was shamelessly jerking off while watching the whole thing. His mind has orchestrated alot of masterpieces throughout his life, this was no doubt one of them.

"Agh.. fuck." Joshua strangled out as he came in your mouth, forcing your face into his dick, nose pressing against his pelvis. He was a heavy heavy cummer, emphasize on heavy if it hadn't been yet. Always leaving you full or choking even more on his cum, not just his dick.

Sweat was dripping of his forehead as he look down on you, panting with veins visible all over his arms and face. "Good girl, good job. Take it all. All of it." Joshua praised in a husky voice, clearly worn out from todays activities. But no matter how tired he was, he would never pass out on your hole.

Minghao followed soon after, filling up your other hole with his own cum. He rocks his hip back and forth into you creating a ring of cum around his dick. "Hyung.. look at this." Minghao called out, eyes focused on where the two of you connect.

It was all Woozi needed for him to cum as well. Cursing under his breath as a string of cum spurts out his dick, landing all over his chair, shirt, and even on the floor.

Joshua reached out to his back pocket for his phone. Opening the camera, he hit the record button making surs to catch your face in the frame.

Slowly, he pulled his dick out of you, a flow of his cum dripping out of your mouth. You were panting like a dog, eyes blown out, all fucked out to realize that there was a camera in front of you. Joshua pressed a thumb on your tongue, prompting you to open up more.

He dragged his thumb from your tongue to your lip, spreading cum all over. Angling his phone to where it catches the both of you, he pulled you into a kiss, tasting and cleaning his cum from your mouth. Tongues lapping all over each other, dirty sounds coming from the two of you. Alternating between open mouth kisses to French kissing.

"Fuck, hyung." Minghao whispered when he felt his dick getting hard again. Looks like it won't be just the three of them who'll be working hard in the studio today.

[ditzydoe444]

Can we have something with Bruce Wayne and his trophy wife, please? (I love your work, I’m biting myself as I write this.)

MDNI 18+

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

smutty

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

bruce would spoil you with all the lavish jewels and bags you would want because not only was it benefiting you, but also for him. being a man of high status meant having a pretty decoration on his arm. in this case, it was you. he would spoil you rotten, taking you to all the lavish boutiques, where he would leave carrying your handful of shopping bags. he insisted on getting the best of the best, he would have his sales associates get the limited edition pieces as well as ensuring the dresses were specifically made for you.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

you would be all dolled up for events bruce would admire you, his gaze would drift all over your body and how the dress clung to every curve. he would make you spin around before giving a soft kiss on your forehead, occasionally if you looked really good, he would kiss your neck. though it never went further than that, he would have to wait until after the event was over. he didn’t want his pretty little thing walking out all flustered and fucked up, would he? let alone having his cum drip down your thighs during the event.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

you would get so many compliments at the events and gala, gaining everyone’s attention. news headlines would go crazy, writing all about you. bruce loved every second of it, flaunting you like you were his prize possession (which you totally were). though he didn’t appreciate the lingering eyes on you, always having a possessive arm around your back.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

the attention that you received were both good and bad, many would compliment you on your looks and how the expensive dresses were made for you. others would question the age difference, bruce was an older man, whilst you seemed to be controversially young. though bruce never paid any mind to it, because at the end of the day people don’t know the relationship dynamic between the two of you, other than what you want to put out.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

despite how much of a patient man bruce was, there were times where he looked too good for him to keep his hands off you. he would drag you to the private bathrooms before removing your dress hastily and propping you on the counter of the bathroom sink. it wasn’t long before he then discarded his belt and tugged his pants down. you were already so wet foreplay wasn’t even needed, god you didn’t even want it. all you want was to have his cock shoved up your cunt. he filled out his suit so well, that his broad shoulders and huge biceps would strain against the expensive material, it was only normal to be wet at the sight.

bruce wasted no minute before he shoved his fat cock inside your tight cunt. he placed your panties in your mouth, as a makeshift gag. “don’t even make a sound,” he grunted in your ear as he continued to thrust harder and harder. “don’t want the high socialites seeing what a desperate whore you are.”

it wasn’t long before you reached your orgasm, saliva dribbling down as the thin material shoved in your mouth barely did its job, and tears streaming down your eyes. bruce would softly wipe your tears away and clean you up. what kind of a gentleman would let his wife walk out completely fucked up?

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his. 

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch. 

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time. 

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed. 

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down. 

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him. 

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away. 

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face. 

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.” 

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes. 

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief. 

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now. 

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would. 

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation. 

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead. 

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous. 

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line. 

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued. 

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?” 

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away. 

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?” 

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that. 

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.” 

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again. 

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him. 

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow. 

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body. 

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet. 

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy. 

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin. 

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same. 

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner. 

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth. 

You were the first to pull away for air. 

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again. 

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed. 

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.” 

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what. 

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought. 

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going? 

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.  

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again. 

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest. 

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do? 

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?” 

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise. 

“No…” 

“Then what?” 

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. 

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing. 

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares? 

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now. 

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world. 

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.” 

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his. 

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words. 

“Can I carry you?” 

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal. 

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.” 

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms. 

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.” 

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly. 

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste. 

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot. 

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss. 

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved. 

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way. 

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards. 

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh. 

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good. 

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant. 

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing. 

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms. 

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly. 

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs. 

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him. 

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs. 

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?” 

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.” 

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself. 

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples. 

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs. 

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples. 

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts. 

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust. 

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties. 

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once. 

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it. 

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less. 

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips. 

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand. 

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?” 

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.” 

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.” 

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.  

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine. 

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.” 

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it. 

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly. 

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly. 

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that? 

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.” 

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling. 

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you. 

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.” 

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body. 

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt. 

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked. 

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso. 

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.” 

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed. 

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. 

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away. 

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.” 

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers. 

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.” 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first. 

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again. 

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was. 

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties. 

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you. 

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting. 

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before. 

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?” 

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.” 

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body. 

“I know.” 

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked. 

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.” 

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again. 

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before. 

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face. 

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit. 

“You wanna move down now?” you asked. 

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face. 

“Show me how.” He said, adamant. 

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”  

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?” 

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth. 

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was. 

“Just like that,” you whispered. 

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further. 

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.” 

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy. 

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out. 

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed. 

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.  

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.” 

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot. 

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing. 

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” 

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking. 

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds. 

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled. 

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter. 

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.” 

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised. 

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped. 

The coil snapped. 

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine. 

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next. 

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets. 

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy. 

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.” 

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.” 

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge. 

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes. 

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth. 

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue. 

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed. 

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you. 

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next. 

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness. 

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?” 

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face. 

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly. 

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?” 

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs. 

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.” 

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids. 

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.” 

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit. 

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.” 

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.” 

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands. 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package. 

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end. 

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing. 

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up. 

“I think so.” He nodded. 

“Want to do it?” 

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.” 

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him. 

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them. 

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck. 

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again. 

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing. 

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine. 

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.” 

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch. 

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him. 

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.” 

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity. 

You had. 

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out. 

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown. 

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy. 

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more. 

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue. 

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good. 

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him. 

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand. 

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit. 

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.  

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes. 

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you. 

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways. 

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin. 

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine. 

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.” 

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment. 

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting. 

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good. 

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.” 

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit. 

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck. 

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him. 

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow. 

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips. 

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with. 

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you. 

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force. 

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole. 

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend. 

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body. 

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

He smirked down at you. 

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked. 

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!” 

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat. 

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”  

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides. 

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy. 

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes. 

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight. 

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath. 

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process. 

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple. 

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you. 

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face. 

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex. 

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to. 

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something. 

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out. 

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.” 

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled. 

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard. 

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.” 

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[k4vehrtz]

WHORETICULTURE. various jjk men / sub gn. reader

synopsis. filled with lust for some fucking guy.

who. nanami kento / satoru gojo / toji fushiguro / heian era! sukuna . ✦ . what. one night stand / unprotected sex / mild religious themes/ thigh riding / slut shaming / against a wall / mean dom (or just brat)! satoru / exes with benefits / exhibition / recreational drug use + alcohol consumption ergo dubious consent / oral (r giving) / body betrayal / brat! reader / implied cnc kink + masochism / domination loss / mild degradation + nipple play / double penetration

notes. terms are kept general thus gender neutral reader but it’s entirely up to your interpretation. a mini compilation of thirsts i had while attempting to fight writer’s block and an unforgiving schedule.

⸻ ## I KNEW IT WHEN I. . .

MET HIM !

[ NANAMI KENTO ]

nanami kento was the embodiment of the traditional man in every sense. he was a businessman — clad in a white button–down, black slacks, and a matching tie hanging around his collar. five days a week, monday to friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. a true provider.

that much you can assume from observation alone. he’s not like the usual crowd; the man stands out. so, it’s only natural that you become curious.

“i’m not above sex before marriage,” and when he speaks, he takes his time to carefully enunciate each word with practised precision. something you didn’t know you were attracted to until now, straddling his thighs.

“somethin’ tells me you’re not just a—” he presses a finger to your lips, interjecting, “if you’re suspicious of me we can always stop,” and you quiet down, rocking your hips back and forth as you feel his erection grow beneath your crotch.

the backseat of his car is a tight fit but it makes it all the more intimate. remnants of nicotine on his breath waft across your face, warming your skin.

“the windows are tinted,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb, “it’s as private as it’s going to get,” before inserting the aforementioned finger into your mouth.

you smile to the best of your ability, wet muscle swirling around the salty digit as you maintain your grinding. slow and steady, purposeful movements that prompt just the right amount of friction between the two of you.

“isn’t this—” nanami interjects once more (you can barely get a word out), by way of pressing his thumb against your tongue thus causing a copious amount of saliva to cascade down your face. it’s wet and messy and done entirely for his own amusement. “we’re not celibate.”

[ SATORU GOJO ]

“do you—” he pauses mid–sentence, startling blue eyes fixated on his cock sliding in and out of your puffy entrance before continuing, “usually sleep with the stranger that saves you from a creep at the club or am i special?”

if you could’ve, you would’ve rolled your eyes. he’s talkative — too talkative but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his voice anyway. your hole quivers and tightens, gripping him like a vice at the implication that hangs between the two of you.

“i’m not easy ‘toru,” you protest in a weak attempt to sound firm though it leaves your parted lips as a breathy whine instead. and satoru smiles at that, chest rising and falling rapidly as he laughs.

“when did i say you were easy, stupid?” he asks, feigning innocence as he tilts his head to one side, bringing one hand up to your face to pat your cheek.

the action being somewhat degrading in its own sense. but ‘toru — satoru — was just like that. saying one thing and meaning or doing another. you couldn’t wrap your head around him.

and he revels in the fact, his smile continuing to grow; the type that meets his eyes and makes them crinkle ever so slightly.

“you wound me,” he tsks, bringing his lips closer to your ear as your body jolts upwards against the wall in sync with his cock bullying your hole, “all i meant by it was that we just met and look where we are now.”

‘it’s the same thing’ you think, but that’s all it is — a thought. when your lips part, you only vocalize a string of  moans. satoru was a labyrinth and you were lost in him — or rather the pleasure he provides.

“bet you’re already justifying this in your head.”

⸻ ## I LOVED HIM WHEN I. . .

LEFT HIM !

[ TOJI FUSHIGURO ]

“what —” he lifts the shot glass to his parted lips, “are you thinkin’ about?” before swallowing a mouthful of cheap liquor, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so.

it’s a good question; one you don’t know the answer to, but a good question all the same. you’re thinking about everything and anything while simultaneously not thinking at all — a blunt dangling haphazardly between your lips.

“you want to know what i’m thinkin’ about?” so you answer his question with a question like a smart ass instead, leaning in until you’re nose–to–nose with the man you swore you’d never see again. and he doesn’t hesitate, a half–smile playing on his lips as they ghost yours. they’re warm, lighting a fire beneath the surface of your skin in its wake.

“no, i don’t want to know,” he sing–songs in response, catching you somewhat off guard. what blindsided you though was him lowering the waistband of both his grey sweatpants and his boxers. his cock, exposed to the cool air of the alleyway, standing at full mast—a vein running from the base to the tip.

suddenly your mouth feels dry and your knees feel the slightest bit weaker. it’s muscle memory — or its evil cousin that encourages your body to betray you.

you’re sinking to your knees, blunt discarded somewhere on the concrete (for god’s sake, you don’t care). your lips part, cheeks hollowed and throat relaxed. quiet anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel the weight of his cock in your palms.

“you know what to do,” he rumbles from above you, picking at the beds of his nails. and he’s right, you do know what to do; how he likes it.

you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the outline of his piercing some ways below the head of his cock. and toji lets out a satisfied groan. once, twice, and then a third time before you focus on taking his full length into your mouth inch by inch until he’s hit the back of your throat.

from there, you move your mouth along his length, tracing every inch of it with your tongue — imprinting its shape in your mind all over again. it’s more like refreshing an old memory rather than creating a new one.

“knew you’d—” he clenches his jaw, cock throbbing in your mouth as saliva mixed with his pre–cum slips past your lips stretched to capacity around him, “come back t’me.”

 [ HEIAN ERA! SUKUNA ]

“i’m—” your breath hitches, catching in your throat in sync with the rise of your shoulders, “many things my lord, but sorry isn’t one of them,” as your hips stutter.

momentarily. one hundred and twenty seconds.

it takes sukuna less than thirty seconds to capitalize on your fault. two hands wrap around your hips, nails pressed into the tender skin forming crescent-shaped indents. you’re forced to move to his rhythm now; cruel and unforgiving.

“should’ve focused on what’s important little one,” he clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. he’s far from disappointed though, his cocks — both of them — buried to the hilt throb inside of you. and an onslaught of tears blur your vision; your mind is clouded by a myriad of sensations.

you’re somewhere between excruciating pain and unbelievable feats of pleasure.

“this isn’t—” you try, albeit with great difficulty as your words come in between gasps. but sukuna interjects, the corners of his lips curling upwards: “fair? stupid, this game of ours was never meant to be but you know that already.”

two more hands make contact with your skin after that exchange; two fingers on one hand pinching your nipple whereas the other holds your face in place so that you maintain eye contact with him.

and sukuna rolls his eyes as soon as your gazes meet though it’s a somewhat playful gesture. something most would find difficult to picture. but not you — never you.

“stop pretending to be a damsel in distress i’m not a—” he pauses mid–sentence, smile growing as he thrusts his hips, “well, i’m not that kind of monster,” the sound of his skin colliding with yours echoing throughout the room.

you whimper, staring at him through half–lidded eyes and a curtain of lashes wet with unshed tears: “i like what i like.”

 © k4vehrtz — all rights reserved. do not, under any circumstances, plagiarize / repost / translate my work.

[happyteethcare]

The Impact of Kissing on Oral Health: Pros and Cons You Need to Know

Kissing is a universal expression of affection, but it also has various implications for oral health. This article dives into the pros and cons of kissing from an oral health perspective, discussing the benefits it can offer and the potential risks. Understanding the impact of kissing on your mouth’s health can help you maintain a bright and healthy smile while enjoying the connection that…

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Do you have a snoot noodle or other variation of sighthound? If yes, there’s new heart health research for the breed happening!

A researcher at Texas A&M whose work I’m familiar with is starting a new study looking at genetic factors contributing to heart disease in Borzoi and related breeds. They just put out a call for dog owners who are willing to submit saliva samples & (noodle) medical records. Studies like this need a big sample size! They’re accepting new sign-ups starting now until March 1, 2025, for dogs both in the US and internationally.

Let’s help make some science!

From the study page:

“Background and purpose

Recent research in Borzoi dogs has revealed that dogs of this breed experience sudden, unexplained death. About 85% of sudden, unexplained deaths in humans are linked to an underlying heart disease. Our existing research in Borzoi dogs has shown that they are predisposed to developing arrhythmias (abnormal heart rhythms) and dilated cardiomyopathy (a heart muscle disease causing dilated heart chambers and weak pumping function).

Due to our documentation of the frequency of these conditions in Borzoi dogs, we seek to identify responsible genetic variations similar to what is seen in humans with electrical cardiac diseases that trigger arrhythmias and dilated cardiomyopathy.

The objective of our study is to identify genetic mutations associated with heart disease in Borzoi dogs and document their existence in other sighthound breeds.

What happens in this study

We are collecting saliva samples from both healthy Borzoi and Borzoi dogs affected with arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. We will also collect saliva samples from any other sighthound breeds.

We will extract DNA from these samples and perform genomic sequencing on a select number while retaining the remainder for further screening.By analyzing the sequencing data, we can compare the genes of healthy and affected Borzoi dogs and identify variants linked to their heart conditions. We will also compare the findings in Borzoi dogs to results from other sighthound breeds.

Pet owner responsibilities

A swab kit will be sent to you for at home use along with a link to an instructional video on how to properly obtain a swab of the mouth. The kit will contain equipment to collect the saliva swab, a history form for your pet, a client consent form and a shipping label to return samples to us.

Participation requirements

To participate, you must have a Borzoi dog or a sighthound breed that is either healthy or affected by arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. Pets may be any age or sex. Electronic or paper veterinary medical records will need to be provided.

Benefits and risks of participating

There is little to no risk for taking a brief swab of the mouth for saliva collection if procedures outlined in the video are followed. No individual genetic test results will be provided to study participants.

Compensation

There is no cost to the owner for participating in this study. No compensation will be provided.”

[9toji]

MDNI / 18+ only | dumbification, mating press, age gap, dilf! toji x fem! reader

dilf! toji who said yes as fast as light could travel. he thinks you're the sweetest thing but when you ended up on his bed thinking that it would only be a one night stand. he was so wrong.. completely pulled in by your presence, immediately agreeing to your little acquaintances(friends)-with-benefits situation, thinking that it wouldn't cause much change in his life.

“don't get offended, sweetheart. you don't look the part of a brat.. look at you, all sweet f'me, isn't that right?” he cooed once, when he had offered to buy you new dresses in roppongi. his large hands brushing the skin of your faintly reddended cheeks. toji thinks you're cute, and that he wouldn't have to deal with a brat.

he was proven wrong very, very soon.

toji had his hand wrapped tightly around your neck, making you bend in half so that your manicured toes were touching your earlobes. “you're quite—fuckin'— flexible..” the older man commented, his body pressed up on top of you. heavy balls slipping against the curve of your ass, making you shudder slightly. “never thought that you of all people.. would disobey me?"

you had angered toji, in pursuit of something less than appropriate. grunting when you placed yourself “innocently” on his lap while he was watching one of his lame game shows, eyes reflecting the bright lights that came from the television. those same pair that looked down as you slipped (read: grinded) on to his sweats covered bulge.

here you are, your flexibility tested when toji pushed your legs up further. “i just loveeee puttin' you in mating press.. gonna be my favorite position, whaddya think sweetheart?" he groaned, pushing and nuzzling his head into your neck. sharp and canine-like teeth digging into your neck, leaving messy hickies all over.

toji just loved seeing the fucked out expression on your face, thrusting deep enough until you started to babble incoherently, saliva bubbling in your mouth. “what's that? better speak up right, or i won't give you what you want..” mocked toji, a sly grin on his sweaty face as he pounded himself, deeper and deeper.

he always managed to bottom out with every deep thrust, his grip on your hands getting shaky, and you could feel the sweat dripping from his palms. “y'know you can talk.. i don't like not givin' you what you want but ya need to talk sweetie, talk for me..” toji knew you couldn't, his smirk growing wider. he loved making his girl, you, dumb when he fucks you.

“hope this is a lesson, sweet thing. don't tease me.. mkay?” he growled, hands slowly letting go of your numbing wrists.. caressing your torso and your chest. shuddering even more when he bottomed out again, his thrusts halting when he feels himself come inside you. heaving for a breath before he toji ultimately whispered into your ear, “because i'll fuck you the way you want me to.. in a much more appropriate and befitting way, sweetheart.”

“and you know how mean i get when i fuck you.. right?"

[simpxxstan]

Nobody Else (part 1)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), mild angst

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 13k

warnings: honestly, way too much smut. cockwarming, oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, orgasm denial, gagging, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, public sex (i don't even know if it's feasible, please suspend your beliefs about reality while reading aah), unprotected sex (please do not do this irl), breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart for female), usage of word slut (for female), usage of sir and daddy (for male), sir kink, daddy kink, office sex, use of profanities, lots of bickering. let me know if i missed something out!

a/n: and we're back. (or are we?) honestly, i write when i get the time. and i don't know when i'll get my schedule to clear up again </3 hopefully within a few months my life will be back on track.

hope you enjoy this!!! posting this in two parts because it's way too long otherwise. do leave your thoughts, i swear reading them makes me so happy. open to hearing criticism too so pls my inbox is right there for you to rant. have a nice day!

You’ve known Jeon Wonwoo since the age of eleven, but you’d never thought you’d end up like this. Being in the same social circles as you and your family, the young Jeon heir had never really been your friend. However, that did not mean you didn’t meet him. In fact, you met him quite often. He went to the same school as you, he was always there at the parties you went to, and everyone around you kept talking about him. No matter what the season or the age, everyone was infatuated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

Objectively speaking, no. 

Subjectively speaking, not at all. 

You could never understand why one would find a man with no beauties to his personality, nothing to his merit except a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and those never-changing black clothes, attractive. Apart from that, he never exchanged a friendly conversation with you. Never a moment of warmth. And you reciprocated the feeling absolutely. You had no desire to seek his favour. He simply never left the periphery of your life, and it annoyed you. But not enough to bother you. You’d grown used to the sight of the tall boy, who never spoke to anyone except his tight-knit group of absolute losers. And he should have remained in your periphery, never in your focus. You wanted nothing to do with the cold, arrogant nerd. 

So naturally, you’d never, in your wildest imaginations, thought that you’d be here, sucking his dick off under his desk while he engaged himself in a meeting on his desktop. You had been in that position for hours, your mouth lolling over the wetness surrounding his penis, both from your saliva and the slow trickle of his pre-cum. While he has switched from meeting to meeting, both with corporates in Korea and internationally, his suit impeccable and the glasses sitting neatly on his nose, you’d cockwarmed him. That would’ve still been fine, had you not enjoyed it so thoroughly that it had become a routine for you both over the months. 

After a solid two hours (and a few more minutes), he’d allowed himself to push back the chair a bit, pull his pants down further, spread his legs wide enough to meet the annoying temptation that had been bugging him for so long, and thread his hands into your hair, indicating you to step out of the haze you’d fallen into and get on with the job. And oh boy, you’d obeyed. At this point, it was a reflex for you. Feeling the way his hands caved your jaws and neck, you leaned into his touch, all while keeping your eyes on the little twitches he made on his face. Perhaps it was his need to be dominant, or perhaps it was just his arrogance, but he never slipped during sex. Even when you were giving him the most mind-blowing blowjob, like right now, using techniques you’d picked up over time, slipping your tongue under his cock to feel his veins throb around your tongue, gently nipping the foreskin to make the red tip burn harder, and taking him into your throat completely without a moment of a gag reflex. He’d never show you how much he liked it, never praised you, never revealed that he wanted it as much as you did. 

It was all a part of the act, you knew that. 

It was designed to make you more eager to perform well, more eager to earn his praise, more eager to put your all into this. 

Jeon Wonwoo, with his signature cold stares and the arrogant tilt of his smirk, would break you every time, and you’d come back for it, again and again, addicted mindlessly, like a drug. 

Eventually, his cum would flow down your throat, and you’d feel his body relax against yours, as he let you lay your head on his thighs for a few moments to recuperate. 

But never enough. 

“Up, sweetheart. I thought you had a party to attend.”

He helps you stand up, smirking at the pool of your cum on the floor where you’d been sitting, with the bullet vibrator parked deep into your pussy, which had given you endless orgasms and sent you into heaven, all while you’d felt the weight of Wonwoo’s warmth on your tongue. 

His words bring you back to reality, as you limp towards the washroom to clean yourself, slowly breaking your daze. “I do. When are you going to change?”

“I don’t want to. I’ll look good even if I don’t doll up.” With a snicker he goes back to his desktop, and you roll your eyes at the implication of his words.

“I still don’t understand why you’d ask them to deliver the dress here.”

“It is pretty late. Imagine if I’d have to go back home, change, and then leave for the venue. Too much hassle. I would have to leave an hour back. Your place is much closer to the venue.”

“And so you chose to make my bedroom your vanity room?

From Wonwoo’s vantage point in the study, he has a direct view into the master bedroom, where you’re settling yourself into a fresh pair of lingerie and the jumpsuit, which had been designed exclusively for you, for this occasion. The jumpsuit was perfect, made to look professional and yet classy, just as the event demanded, and in midnight blue, your favourite shade. You smiled while wearing it, your secretary had truly learnt your style well and ordered the perfect outfit for you. 

“I’ll be out in ten.” You can feel his eyes on your figure, even from the distance.

You’re too engrossed in fixing the zip on your back to notice Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on you. 

“Do you need help?”

You give him a look. There’s that semi-permanent smirk lingering on his face, he knows he’s pushing your buttons. Outside of sex, you would never ask for help. In fact, you wouldn’t ask Wonwoo for anything. What could he do for you that you couldn’t do yourself? 

He doesn’t say anything else, he quietly steps in and takes grip of the zip. After pulling it up, he doesn’t say a word, carefully watching you wear your scanty makeup. It could be a little creepy, but you surprisingly don’t mind. Or perhaps you just don’t care. 

“Ah fuck. I forgot to bring the lip gloss.”

“But you just wore lipstick?”

“No,” you turn around and outside of Wonwoo’s periphery. Slipping your feet into your heels and putting on the earrings that had also been sent by your secretary, you told him, “The lip-plumping one. It makes my lips look nice. Well, nicer. They’re already quite pretty, as I’ve been told.” You hear Wonwoo scoff behind you, and you turn around to face him. 

“Well, how do I look?”

His hands are in his pockets, his shirt buttons are halfway opened and his hair is messy, but he still looks better than you do after all this effort. 

“They’ll love you.”

You smile. That’s more than enough feedback from Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to praise you outside sex if he can’t do it while fucking.

“They always do.”

_

And they do. The photographers, the journalists, the social elites, the ministers, their wives, their mistresses, the chaebols, their heirs, and their bastards. Everyone loves you. How could they not? You’re perfect in every way possible. At twenty six, you’re at the height of your life- young, charming and intelligent, everybody wants you. Ever since you took your father’s already prospering business to new heights four years ago, straight out of grad school, by introducing Korea to the world of AI like they’d never seen before. The industry had not just been disrupted by your introduction of AI to the field of healthcare and diagnosis, but also awed by the sheer magnanimity of your creations. You hadn’t spent years perfecting your ideas in vain. 

Everyone wants a little bit of your time, a little word with you, slipping in a plea and a pickup line in the same tone, and you love the attention they throw at you. Honestly, this is where you were born to be. The spotlight is where you deserve to belong. 

But eventually, the crowd dissipates, leaving you walking towards the bar looking for a martini, arm looped into the arm of your sister. “Y/N-ah, I tell you, let’s go to Jeju this weekend! The weather is perfect now- not too hot, not too cold. The forecast also recommends visiting now!” She tugs at your arm playfully, and you smile fondly. She knows your answer, but she never stops trying. “And what about your husband?” “I need a break from him, please. He’s getting on my nerves!” “Darling, it’s your hormones.” She slaps your wrist. “No! Stop saying that. Kyungmin says the exact same thing, in the exact same tone! It’s so annoying. Stop ganging up against me! Anyway it’s not my fault I’m pregnant. The least he can do is take care of me. If he can’t take care of me now, how is he going to be trained to become a father? Huh? How will he take care of our daught-” “You don’t even know that.” “I do. I have a feeling.” “You can just say you want a girl, you know. There’s nothing called ‘a feeling’.” “Damn it. Just because you have a trash sixth sense doesn’t mean you can dismiss mine, my intuition never goes wrong!” 

And you’ve reached the bar, and the bartender serves you your drinks- just a virgin mojito for your sister though. “The canapes are great.” “Hmm… But I’m craving oranges! That’s why we should go to Jeju, yah!” “Unnie, you’ve gotta stop. Don’t excite yourself more than you need to. Do you want orange juice?” “No, eww. Not this artificial flavour.” “If you really want to go to Jeju, take Kyungmin Oppa and go. Don’t ask for me- I’ll never be able to keep up with your tantrums.” “Hmm. That is true. Now that you mention him, I suddenly miss him. For all my complaints, I still love him though-” You giggle at the sudden sappy tone of your sister, tuning out parts of her endless chatter, while your eyes search for someone in the crowds. 

Jeon Wonwoo stands out, so he’s easy to find. 

He’s wearing the same suit he’d worn earlier, not changed like he had told you. He looks tired and yet, good. Before you realise it, he’s looking back at you, and walking towards where the two of you are standing. 

“Oh! Wonwoo-yah! How have you been?” Your sister asks, ever friendly. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t show that the Jeon and Y/L/N families are rivals in business and hence, avoid speaking to each other. That norm wasn’t broken by you. To be fair, even the nights you spent together had very little conversation. No orgasm-induced dopamine could break through the wall of your egos to encourage you to be friendly with each other. Hell, outside of the bedroom, Wonwoo isn’t even attractive enough to catch your eye. 

“Hmm, I’m good, Noona. I see your baby is growing fast. How many weeks left?” His tone is courteous, formal, and sweet. Makes you want to laugh at how different he sounds from the usual voice you hear him speak in. 

“About eleven weeks to go. This trimester has been killing me, I swear. I’ve told Kyungmin I don’t want any more kids. Ever. I don’t think I can go through this again, and I haven’t even gotten to the pain of delivery yet. I don’t even know if I can go back to skating after this.”

You scoff. “As if. First get over your never-ending honeymoon period. Then talk about not having any more kids.”

“I support Y/N here. The company will need an heir, and I don’t see anyone else providing any.” 

You sigh. There he goes. You roll your eyes at him, “An heir doesn’t have to be through blood relation. Merit exists. But then how can I explain this to someone whose existence is owed to nepotism.” 

“Rich of you to say so.”

You take a step closer to Wonwoo, too riled up by the calm way he’s speaking. “I’ve built my world from the ground. From level zero. I haven’t just sat on a throne that was presented to me.” 

“Forever the brat, huh? Running your mouth even in public, begging me to shut it?” You notice that Wonwoo has also come closer to you, and you can smell the cologne off him. He’s a solid four inches taller than you, even when you’re wearing heels. But you stare right back into his eyes, yours angry and his cold and superior, as usual. You wonder for the n-th time if his blood even runs warm. You’re tempted to retort back, disgusted by the below-the-belt remark, going off-topic, but your sister’s gently pulling your arm, reminding you that you’re in public. “Back off. Don’t make a scene, guys. Let’s not ruin the evening?” She puts on her best smile to calm you down, and you step away, seething in vain. Wonwoo’s smirk never leaves his face as you two bow and walk away. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of other memories. 

You suddenly wonder if your sister had heard the comment or not. Considering her though, probably not. Thank god it was her and not someone else. 

_

The rest of the party flows seamlessly. You’re spiralling slightly in your head though- overthinking can’t be avoided. The way Wonwoo was successful in riling you up has shocked you, to say the least. There have been a thousand such instances, but you don’t remember losing your temper to this extent in any of the situations. But somehow, Wonwoo talking about you not being interested to have children vexed you so much? It just didn’t add up. 

It’s the first time you’re doubting your current situation. You’d been absolutely convinced that settlement between the two of you was more to your benefit than his. It wasn’t like you had a dearth of men wanting to fuck you. It was quite the opposite. But a few scandals and rumours had taught you that keeping your private life discreet was the optimal choice. Especially if you were a woman and people simply assumed you’d sucked someone’s dick to get ahead in life. 

But the arrangement with Wonwoo was so perfect. He wanted discretion, so did you. He didn’t want to get involved with a random hookup who could get pregnant, you didn’t want a random hookup to get you pregnant. He wanted someone to match his wavelength, and you needed a vent for your stress. Now that you consider the drastic improvement in your energy and efforts, in retrospection, becoming Jeon Wonwoo’s submissive had been the best decision of your life. 

_

It had begun quite suddenly. At your sister’s engagement party. Everyone was delighted with the new couple, especially you. Your sister had never shown any desire to join the company, satisfied with following her passion of ice skating. And now she was getting married to her boyfriend of five years, the love of her life, and everyone was left fondly jealous of the pure happiness on her face, even you.

Perhaps it was because of this jealousy that you’d decided to flirt with Wonwoo at the after-party. Against your better judgement, you’d drifted towards him by the end of the night, until your knees were touching on the barstools, and he was leaning back looking over your figure again and again. I was wondering which spot would be ideal for me to bite first- your collarbones, your cleavage, your thighs or your belly button, he would tell you later. God knows why you’d suddenly decided to find him attractive after fifteen years of knowing each other, but that was it. You’d ended up in a hotel bed that night, fucked until tears ran down your cheeks, begging him to go harder and faster whenever he slowed down to look at the mascara dripping down your face, leaving hickeys all over the soft skin of your breasts, not letting you rest of a second of the night, going at it till dawn. 

“Wonwoo… I can’t…” you’d begged, your words muffled through your panties stuffed into your own mouth, the overstimulation hitting you hard as you squirmed against his tongue fucking his cum back into your pussy. “You can, sweetheart, give me another one… hmm? Do you want to be a good girl?” 

And you had let loose. Given yourself up to him, to make or break you, as he wanted, and then put you together one by one as the sun rose up in the sky as you’d drifted to sleep. The next afternoon, you’d woken up feeling like a new person, and decided it was the best night of your life. The man in question was nowhere to be seen, but you didn’t care. The bliss ran too deep. 

Sadly, not deep enough. The overthinking kicked in a few hours later, and you cussed yourself for becoming so easy for an undeserving man like Wonwoo. Just because he’d made you cum and given you a good time didn’t mean you’d go against your rational thoughts. In a way, he was no better than your best dildo. Except you liked your dildo. You simply did not like Jeon Wonwoo. The arrogant brat had been the type of man you’d avoided all of your life. You hadn’t seen him work hard in school, and now that he had inherited his father’s company, you didn’t see him work any harder either. Sure, Jeon Estates was doing better than ever, but that was only because the economy was booming and the housing market was doing well. He had done nothing extra. Unlike you, who had built your world yourself. You’d never taken your father’s prosperity as complacency, and strived to make a name for yourself. And now people knew of Y/L/N Corporation as synonymous to both your father’s name and your name. 

And you had, like a silly stupid girl, gone and slept with this very man. 

And you had liked it. 

That was the worst bit. An accidental hookup would have been fine. But no, you wanted to sleep with him every night, if it meant he’d treat you to the same feast you’d blissed out on last night. There was a certain happiness in giving up to him, letting go of the constant worries that burdened you down, and allowing him to take control, but god knows how you ended up trusting him so much in bed.

Anyway, you reconciled with yourself, it’s just a one-time thing. It’s not like it’s going to happen again. 

You were wrong. Jeon Wonwoo had picked you up that evening and taken you directly to his house. 

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do in your car?”

“The chauffeur was there.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Jeon. You can just say that you regret last night, cause honestly, same. Don’t want to dwell on it.” You were in a rush to leave, because you didn’t want to think about the memories in this same house the night ago. 

“Are you sure?”

His question had taken you aback, as he watched you with his hawk eyes, licking his lips.

“Y/N, I … couldn’t tell you in my car that I didn’t regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You’re speechless, waiting for him to continue, as he took another step forward. 

“Wonwoo, I… you know this is a bad idea.”

“I do,” he chuckles darkly. “You look like a bad idea, as I’ve known for years now. But when I see you wearing that hideous turtleneck to hide the hickeys and that tiny skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, I keep remembering the way you submitted to me last night. For all your big talk and your attitude, you obey pretty easily, huh?”

You stand up, indignant. “Wonwoo, you can’t use that against me. Listen I know we’re not friends-”

“Be my submissive. I want, no fuck, I need you. You’re perfect.” He’s standing an inch away from you, bending his neck gently to look into your eyes. His mask slips for a second. A million emotions flit through your brain, and you’re deliriously begging for your intelligence to kick in, but there’s something about the subtly layered desperation in Wonwoo’s voice that makes you curious. 

“What are your terms?”

_

You look at Wonwoo across the dining table. He looks as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place, as he converses with the middle aged-men sitting next to him while eating dinner. He quickly notes your glance and looks back, and you turn your eyes away before he catches the blush along your cheeks. 

No, there’s nothing wrong with the arrangement. It works perfectly in your favour. As long as nobody knows. 

_

You’re wrapping up a meeting with the board members of the company, when you get a call on your phone. It’s Wonwoo. Excusing yourself from the meeting, you pick up the call while walking back to your office.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to the Paris Conclave?”

The invitation for the event had arrived just that evening, the first time they were inviting your company. It had made you gush with excitement, happy that you’d been able to take your company to this prestigious conclave. Moreover, this would be the first time you’d be visiting Paris, one of the few dream destinations of your life. Due to a packed professional schedule, you had hardly been able to travel for the past few years, and the thought of going to Paris made you naturally happy.

“Yes, of course. Getting fomo? I can get a croissant back home for you.”

“I can get my own. See you there.”

He cuts the call. 

What was that? He’s going to the conclave as well? That’s impossible. Jeon Estates had never been invited before this-

“Jisung-ah.” You call for your secretary, who appears at your side quickly. “Has the Jeon Estates been invited to the conclave?” 

“Ma’am, I- why, yes. I hadn’t checked the list for their name.” His voice drops as he speaks, mirroring the disappointment rising in you too. So, it wasn’t only you who had been invited for the first time. 

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. Even had to call you to rub it in, the nerve. 

“Well, we’ll just have to outshine them there. I’m sure we shall. Please organise a meeting with the team leaders and managers today so that we can get the presentations perfected.”

Your secretary bows to you and leaves you alone in your office. 

_

Paris comes sooner than you had thought, and you’re bursting with excitement. Nervousness too, a little bit. But your confidence isn’t so easy to rattle. You’ve picked out your choicest outfits for the trip, hellbent on making it memorable. You’ve even kept a few days extra in hand to allow you free time to travel the city. 

You had asked your sister if she’d wanted to come along, but she had said that her doctor hadn’t deemed it safe for her to travel by airplane now. “I’m so jealous! But there’s nothing to be done.” “Go with your husband and your baby afterwards.” You’d kissed her forehead when bidding the final goodbyes before leaving for Paris.

There was just one little worry worming through your brain. Not even a worry, just an irk. Jeon Wonwoo would also be there. You’d have to compete again for the spotlight. As if the jerk deserved to be there. 

“Ma’am, do you want to go through your speech once more?” Jisung asked you from the seat next to you. You smiled, the younger man was definitely nervous by the look on his face. “Why, are you scared I’ll forget? You know I take vitamins every day to strengthen my memory.” “I do, but-” “Don’t worry. Don’t let anxiety deter you from forming the memories of the fun times you’ll be enjoying there!”

Fun. 

As if. Jisung knew well enough that you rarely had time for fun, and consequently, neither did he. He saw you overwork yourself every day, staying at the office till late, obsessed with perfection, ensuring no loose ends were visible. Even if you tried your best to send him home when his work time ended, he wanted to stay back out of compassion for you. He was truly the best secretary you could’ve asked for. He was godsent- he’d learnt your habits and your thinking process within days, and soon he produced documents and answers before you asked for them, pre-empting your thoughts. After working with you for three years, he was good enough to be your clone- that’s why you sent him to many events and meetings as your representative if you couldn’t make it. You knew he’d handle it as well as you would, and report all the key details to you at the end of the day. 

“Yes, Ma’am. I hope it all passes well. We’ve all worked hard.”

“And hard work always pays off, you know that Jisung-ah. Now, sleep quickly so that we’re not tired due to jet lag once we land there.”

_

They’ve assigned Wonwoo a seat next to you at the conference table. As if seeing his face here wasn’t bad enough. 

“Will you never leave me alone?” 

He scoffs, “Me? You’ve been at my tail since you were a kid.”

“Oh shut up. Inside school, outside school, at parties, at funerals, at my graduation, at my sister’s wedding, you’re always fucking there. And now you’re here, to steal the spotlight. Not that you can anyway. Don’t try too hard Jeon, you’ll just look pathetic.”

“It’s funny how vain you are. You think I have any desire to steal your spotlight? Go ahead, be the talk of the party, by all means.”

“And I will! I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Hmm-”

The rest of his words get tuned out as the convenor of the conference begins their speech. You turn your eyes towards them, but you can feel Wonwoo’s eyes burning on you. 

“What did you say?” You whisper to him. 

“Never mind. Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Go out?” You turn your head towards him, leaning in, incredulous. 

“For dinner.” 

You almost burst out laughing. “And pray, why would I go with you?”

He scrunches his nose and pushes up his glasses. “You’re going to miss out on seeing the Eiffel Tower?”

“No. In fact, I have plans on going today myself. But you didn’t tell me why I’d-”

“Come with me.” He turns his face away from you, his expression cold and unreadable. 

“Hell nah. We don’t know each other, okay? Just because we’re both newcomers here does not mean we have to maintain solidarity or any of that shit.”

“You’ll regret it, sweetie.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

_

“Jisung-ah! You were scared for nothing. That presentation was flawless.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know our team always works hard, but the nerves never stop,” the young man looks much fresher after the conference wraps up for the day, his tie undone slightly. You can easily understand how his mood changes reflect in his facial expressions and attitude after the long hours you spend with each other on a daily basis. 

“Are you still up for going to the Eiffel Tower tonight? I’m planning on skipping the post-conference dinner. But if you want to stay, I won’t force you to come with me.” 

“No Ma’am, I was thinking…” he hesitates, but you raise your eyebrows to urge him to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the Eiffel Tower again, so I do want to go with you … but after that I’d like to go to one of the clubs in the nightlife zones? I’ve heard from friends that the Paris nightlife is crazy.”

“Ooh!” You pat him on the back, “Yes please Jisung, finally you’ve started to act your age. Go, be young and wild, I’ll cheer for you!”

“You won’t come along?”

“Oh no. I’m way too old for that. Plus I never was into the club scene. And for real, you should go out and enjoy without me sometimes. People will start thinking I’m your girlfriend.”

Jisung opens his mouth to say something, but ends up just smiling shyly. “Okay Ma’am. Then should we leave for the Eiffel at 7 pm?”

“Yes. Pick me up from my suite then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

_

“Sorry Ma’am, the Eiffel Tower has been booked out for the evening. It’s been a really sudden booking, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just been booked out completely by a private party and no external visitors are allowed.”

You’re wearing your best white silk Gucci dress, the one you spent your entire salary on as soon as it was released at last year’s Fashion week, and a stunning Cartier necklace, ready to spend the best evening of your life atop the Eiffel Tower, savouring life at its finest… but no. Some jerk just had to book it for this evening. 

You slide up to the lady at the front desk, whose bored expression does nothing to calm your nerves down. Jisung has tried his level best to convince her, but it’s failed. So you try the one thing you know always works. 

“Ruth-” you see her name from her name tag pinned on her chest. “I can outbid the private party.” 

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t get you.”

You laugh, a careful measured laugh, to hide your irritation at having to say it again. “I said, I can pay you more than whatever the private party’s booked it at. I just want ten minutes. Isn’t it a win-win situation for all of us? Ten minutes for me, and your private client can enjoy it for the rest of the night.”

Ruth smiles, pitifully. Wretched woman, she’s clearly not affected by your offer. This is what seeing too many rich people in a day does to a person, it immunes them to bribe, you think. Well, it’s her loss. 

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but we really cannot accept your offer. It’s against our rules-” 

“Let me speak to your manager, Ruth. Trust me, when they hear my name, they’ll let me in,” you smile again, attempting to remain amicable instead of bursting out into the wildest Korean slang.

Ruth smiles again, “You are, currently, speaking to the Manager here, Ma’am. We simply cannot allow any external visitors tonight. Can we book a slot for you tomorrow? If you’d like to visit again, in the morning or later.”

Jisung tries to interject, but he sounds resigned. He seems intimidated by Ruth, and frankly speaking, you get it. He’s just twenty four and spends over thirteen hours in a day with you, so he’s not used to snarky women. Well, apart from you, and you’re never snarky to him.

“Ruth, my dear. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here at the Paris Conclave.” You say your name solemnly, expecting it to have the same effect it has in Korea, but alas, the woman remains untouched as ever. “I’m dreadfully sorry Ma’am- wait, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Your smile becomes wider. Oh so it does have the intended effect. “So you finally will let me in, huh? You do know who I am.” 

Suddenly Ruth’s demeanour changes and she’s smiling pleasantly. “Oh Ma’am, the private client has specially informed us to allow you in. Only you.” “I’m sorry, what? Why would they suddenly ask for me-” “Mr. Jeon told us that you would be here. I’m so sorry for the miscommunication, Ms. Y/L/N-”

“Mr. Jeon?!” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you bitch. Aloud you say, “Mr. Wonwoo Jeon?” “Yes Ma’am. He’s booked the entire place for the evening. He has been waiting for you too,” Ruth smiles graciously, doing nothing to relieve your confusion. “There has been a mistake. I don’t think he meant me. We’ll leave now-” “Ma’am, I’m sure there’s no confusion now. Mr. Jeon asked us to bring you up as soon as you arrived. We’re sorry to keep you standing here on your date night.” “Date night? This is ridiculous. Wonwoo and I are not-” Jisung whispers into your ears right at moment, noticing your bloodshot wide eyes, “Ma’am, I think there’s no point fighting with them on this,” he says in Korean. “This lady seems adamant, and you shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to visit the Eiffel Tower when it’s lit up so prettily. Even if it is with Mr. Jeon,” you wince at his suggestion, and he smiles apologetically. He’s right, you realise. 

“Okay, but Jisung comes with me.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Oh I’ve had enough of your sorries. “No one except you are to be allowed up.” 

“Wow. First you say no external visitors. Now suddenly I’m allowed and Jisung is not-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, these are simply instructions from my client.” 

Jisung bites his lip and says, “Well I guess it’s not written in my fate then. Ma’am, don’t miss out on my account. Please enjoy. I’ll just go downtown and waste the night away. I’ll see you tomorrow then? Please make sure to eat dinner!” You’re seconds away from whining and pulling another tantrum, but Jisung whispers fighting to you in his soft indulgent tone that he uses on you whenever you’re being a brat and he needs to take care of you. And then he’s gone, and you have no option but to face Ruth. That bloody woman. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower, Ma’am. Please accompany me as we take you to the top.”

_

At the top, Jeon Wonwoo stands with a glass of champagne in his left hand and his mobile phone in his right. 

“If you’re going to work on your phone and not enjoy the view, why the fuck did you book this place out?”

You walk towards the man standing in the open air viewing area, and he smiles at you. The annoyingly handsome smile, where his eyes crinkle up, and his perfectly white teeth are revealed in a rare display. 

“You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How so?” A server appears from nowhere and offers you champagne too, which you accept. You’ll soon switch to whisky though, to calm your nerves down. 

“You’re easily predictable. You act like any other average tourist, although you pretend to be such a princess.” 

“Everyone comes to visit Eiffel Tower on their first day in Paris, Wonwoo, there’s nothing weird about this-”

“Exactly. Average. Me? I personally prefer to see it from the window of my hotel, so that I can see it in its glory without experiencing this slight dizziness and bling of the night view.”

“You’re stupid. That’s why you have such stupid preferences. This night view? Priceless.” 

“Let me inform you, darling, it cost me a hell lot to book this. So not priceless.”

You laugh, looking at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the railing facing you, and then back at the gorgeous night view. The Champs Elysees looks glorious with the lights. You can sense Wonwoo leaning in closer. His cologne and perfume mix to create a dark, musky smell that’s new. You’ve never smelled this on him before. “Why did you book it? That’s what I've been asking since forever.” 

“I want to fuck you against this railing.” 

You choke on the champagne, before catching your breath and turning back to face him. 

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.” He maintains eye contact, but in that cold, nonchalant way of his, like he didn’t just propose the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Aren’t there cameras?”

“Will pay for them to be turned off.”

“That’s probably illegal.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay enough. Plus, I’ve already located the blind spots.”

You take a deep breath. As ashamed as you are to admit this, it does turn you on. A lot. If Wonwoo would touch you under your dress, he’d find evidence of the same. Sex like this- in public, definitely the most outrageous thing you’ve done. But Wonwoo suggesting it? The fact that he booked this place out on a probability that you’d come and a hope that you’d agree to it? The more you think about it, the hotter your body feels. You can feel your nipples straining against your dress in the cold air, and your face turning red with imagination. 

“If you don’t want it, we can just eat dinner and leave.” Wonwoo’s eyes have become impossibly  gentler but also darker, like he’s seconds away from losing his control. His sight betrays his words as he keeps looking at your lips. Thank god I applied the lip plumper tonight, you think. But then his eyes go to your breasts, like the pervert he is, and he smirks at the sight of the two nubs pressing hard against the soft silk. 

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“I want it too.”

“Atta girl,” his smirk widens, before he leans in to capture your lips. It’s a rough kiss, nothing romantic like one would expect atop the Eiffel Tower, but it sets the right mood for the night. You realise that all servers have disappeared, and you’re perfectly alone, as his lips move down towards your neck, leaving beautiful hickeys along the way. “It was torture and heaven waiting for you. Knowing you’d come, but fearing you wouldn’t.” His hands take away your champagne glasses and place them on a table nearby, before bending you backwards on the railing, making your head zoom more with pleasure. What if I fall off? What if someone catches us like this? What if he takes a picture of me like this in front of the view, with my tits out and my lipstick ruined?

“No bra, huh? You’re so sexy in this dress, I want to fuck you in it. You mind that?” You’re panting as he keeps kissing you in between his words, tongue dominating yours right away. It’s like a switch flipped inside you. Just minutes ago, you were so against sharing the Eiffel Tower view with Wonwoo, and now you’re letting him fuck you here. It drives you crazy.

“Wonwoo just- I don’t care, I need you now.” He bites all over your shoulder, slipping down the straps to grope your breasts in the rough-handed manner you like, sure to leave bruises with the way he kneads them while leaving open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone.

“Just because we’re out in the open doesn’t mean you forget your bedroom manners.” He bites down on your nipple, surely missing his favourite clamps back home, and you squirm in his iron grip. 

“Sir please!” 

“That’s better, sweetheart. But what do you want?”

“C-Co-” he alternates his bites with little kitten licks, looking up at you. “Articulation, baby. Speak up.” “Want your cock, in my m- mouth, Sir!” He pulls away from you, leaving the cold air to tease your bruised nipples, and laughs. Fucking laughs, but it turns you on again. “If you insist.”

He takes off his belt and ties your hands behind your back, and then pushes your shoulder down and you fall to your knees, and he stands back, tall. “Oh, what a pretty sight,” he sighs, taking in the night sky view, and then looks down at you, but makes no move to open his pants. You assume you’ll have to take care of it yourself, so you attempt to open the zipper with your teeth. It’s not particularly difficult, but in the process you get some drool over Wonwoo’s cock over his pants. “Tch. Dirty girl, drooling everywhere,” he wipes away the drool from the edge of your lips, before you slot your mouth against his erection, now free from his underwear and pants which have slid down his legs. It’s not as hard as it gets during sex, but that’s what you’re here for. Nothing but a slut for him to use. Your ankles burn against your heels in this position, but it’s okay. You’re losing your mind as you swallow his sheath inch-by-inch, until you feel his skin against your nose, and you stay like that for a second, easing out your gag reflex. But before you can move, Wonwoo thrusts deep into your throat, eyes not leaving yours. It makes you roll your eyes, the pleasure of the surprise way more than the pain, and makes you crave for more. He slowly wraps his hands around your head, a strong broad support for you to rest in, and continues to ram his dick inside your mouth. Your body becomes limp as you slowly surrender to his actions, your mind blank, except a crazy wanton desire to please him and make him cum. You’re too sex-crazed right now to reason out why only Wonwoo elicits this reaction from you. 

But then his dick gets rock hard, and right when its weight becomes the best and warmest around your throat, wet with saliva and pre-cum, he pulls out. You can’t frame words instantly, but you whine. “Ah, Wo- I- pl- co- please…” He laughs cockily at your state, and you blush with shame at the way you’re acting. “Get up,” he walks away from you, leaving you to your own devices to stand up in those heels. 

It strikes you yet again, just how open this all is. Anyone can walk in. The security guard may be jerking off watching this on the security cameras, and you won’t lie, it’s hot as fuck. The thought of Wonwoo and your activities being porn for someone else- oh fuck. 

Wonwoo sits on a couch meant for visitors on the balcony. “Come baby,” he beckons, and you sit on his lap. His cock is still hard, leaking pre-cum, and you’re tempted to lick it off, but you won’t make a move until he tells you to. You can’t disobey him now- if he spanks you in punishment, you won’t be able to walk to the conference tomorrow.

“Spit on it.” And you do. Wonwoo likes your spit, for some reason, and you wordlessly obey. Then he pulls out something from his pocket, and you realise- “No Sir! Please, not the paddle today!” It’s a folded paddle, the pocket-friendly one you can buy at cheap sex stores. “I need to walk tomorrow, I can’t if you spank me-” “But you’ve been so naughty. Begging for my cock in a public place like the little slut you are. Not accepting my invitation to come up here and making me wait for so long. Turning my offer for dinner down at the conference this morning,” You try to protest, but he simply inserts his thumb into your mouth, and you instinctively start sucking on it. “Now be pretty, and let Sir show you your place.” While you’re still distractedly sucking the thumb, you don’t even realise when he’s lifted the back of your dress and the paddle hits the ass flesh exposed by your thong. “Count.” “One,” you whimper out, not wanting his thumb to slip out of your mouth. The spanks continue, alternating on ass. He can alternate between asses and keep the same pressure just by one hand, the other holding up your dress, his hands big enough to cover your entire ass cheek. The spanks burn more after the moment’s relief due to the cold air, and by the time you reach twenty, your knees have given up, and you’re drooling on Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

“Don’t make a mess. Sit up straight.” As you do so, he asks you, putting away the paddle and tucking your hair behind your ears. “Have you learnt how to behave? Or do you need another reminder?” You fervently shake your head, but he whispers in his insanely sexy tone, “Words.” It makes you shiver, and you respond, “Yes Sir. I’ll not misbehave, Sir.” He smirks, and leans back. “Now ride me like you mean your words, darling.” 

You don’t need another command. You sit down on his dick quickly, ready to take the burn without any prep, because you’re already leaking down your thighs. He grips your hips with one hand, steadying you, and cards his other hand through your hair. As you begin bouncing down on him, he shudders and releases low grunts, but nothing breaks his composure. He never once whispers Good Girl, as you cum once, but you still keep riding him to ensure he reaches his climax. Somewhere after your orgasm, he starts thrusting up from below to meet your efforts, and it brings him closer to his orgasm as he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. When he does spurt inside you, he whispers softly enough that you almost miss it, “Fucking gorgeous.” 

That’s enough praise for the night, you think to yourself, as you fall limply against his chest, nearly passed out from the strain, his cock still spasming inside of you. He soothes your hair, and you fall asleep.

_

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Please wake up! We’re running late. Ma’am? Ms. Y/L/N?” You open your eyes blearily to see Jisung shaking you lightly. Slowly you come to your senses, and you can hear his voice louder, and see the desperation in his face clearly. 

Fuck. 

What have you done?

“How late am I?” 

“Not too bad, Ma’am,” Jisung scrunches his nose as he looks at the clock on your bedside table. “We have twenty minutes to go.” 

“Fuck!” You scramble out of bed, not even bothering to check if you’re clothed, and make your way to the washroom. There’s a pain growing in your head, and it’s only when you see yourself in the mirror that you realise that you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts. What even happened last night? The last thing you remember, as you try to recollect while quickly brushing your teeth, washing your hair and hopping into the shower all at the same time, is that you had passed out on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Then the world had gone blank. Fucked into oblivion, truly. He must have brought you into your room. Oh fucking hell, he owed you at least that much.

By the time you wrapped your bathing suit around you and walked back into your bedroom, Jisung was gone, but your outfit and shoes were laid out on the bed and there was a note, I’ll pack some breakfast for you, Ma’am. Please come down directly to the conference hall. Thank god for Jisung, that was one prayer you said everyday. He’d been partying too last night, hadn’t he? And yet, he had responsibly made it on time and woken you up as well. You were getting too irresponsible, too lax. Your discipline was gone and you mentally bashed yourself for it. All because of that stupid Wonwoo.

After that, it doesn’t take much time for you to get dressed. Jisung must’ve noticed the hickeys on your neck, and brought you a jacket with lapels and a collar high enough to hide most of the marks. You quickly tied a scarf around your neck, making it look fashionable by adding colour to the otherwise beige monotone outfit, and praised yourself mentally for looking this good even without makeup. Dabbing on some lip balm in the elevator, you quickly reached the conference hall, finding yourself a minute late. Again, thank god for Jisung, the boy had reserved your seat, made excuses on your behalf and kept a croissant and coffee ready at your seat, so that everyone greeted you with kind smiles. 

Except Wonwoo, who had that unreadable expression again. 

Must be pathetic, living like him. What worth was a face like that if it couldn’t express anything?

_

Four days later, you land in Incheon amidst the wildest of storms the country has faced in the year. You won’t admit it, but you’re glad you travelled in your private jet, where you can close all windows down and wrap yourself up in a blanket burrito to drown out all signs of the storm. You wish storms didn’t exist, and you wish no one would have to see you in this weak state. Not Wonwoo for sure. 

After that first day in Paris, the two of you had barely interacted. Primarily, you were too ashamed to speak to him. How could you smile and talk normally to someone after getting railed by them on the Eiffel Tower, especially when that same someone was annoying as fuck in reality? Sure, eye contact had been made several times, over dinners, over the conference tables, when you’d been on the stage presenting, and when running into each other in the corridor. But words? You possibly couldn’t. It’d be too much for the fragile self-respect you’d been holding on to. 

You really want to avoid him once you’re back in Seoul as well. The workload seems to have tripled in the few days you were away, with endless tiny emergencies and approvals pending to be resolved. You’re again thankful for Jisung, but there’s only so much the poor boy can do. You make it a point to send him home soon after his scheduled timing every day, but you can’t say the same for yourself. 

It’s the fifth night of you eating ramen from a cup noodles pack and sipping on apple juice from a 1 litre tetra pack, that you finally give up on the abstention. It’s a hard decision, but somehow, your overworked brain and sleep-deprived body leads you to one craving, and one craving only. 

Thirty minutes later, Jeon Wonwoo arrives at your office. He’s been to your office only rarely, as you both prefer to meet up outside professional areas, but in the darkness of the empty office, he can easily recognise your brightly-lit room. He’s dressed in formals too, as if he’s just got off work himself, and you think he may be in the same boat as you. But definitely not as much as you- you’re a perfectionist who looks over everything yourself, Wonwoo doesn’t even come close for sure. 

“It’s one of those nights, huh?”

He gently opens the door and walks in. Everything about him seems to be delicate today: perhaps it’s because his shirt is damp from the rain he’s surely walked in, his hair is wet and falling over his eyes, and his tie is gone. His jacket is soon gone too, dropped off on the couch, and he takes off his shoes. They’re leaving slightly muddy footprints, and you wonder if Wonwoo even drove and came or just ran like a peasant. 

“How’s work treating you?”

“Stop wolfing down that ramen, it’s not healthy. Not as bad as you, as I see. I finished up hours ago,” his eyes don’t meet yours, and you know it’s a lie. It’s one of the signs of lying, as you’ve picked up over the years. Wonwoo rarely breaks eye contact while speaking, always honest, and his lie is really odd to you right now. Why would he lie to you about this?

“I was wondering, if…” you stand up from your desk, taking in the figure of the man sitting on your couch now, manspreading and head leaning back. He’s tired, why did he lie about getting off early?

“Come here, princess.” 

That’s all it takes, and you sit on his lap and wait for his lips to meet yours. He indulges you in your wish, and immediately the tension in your body eases out. Along with the stress of work, you’d been even more worried that he’d bring up your last night together, and you’d get too ashamed to remain turned on. But he doesn’t, and you’re glad. You let your lips be bitten by him, but then he soothes over the burns with his tongue. He tastes like candy, and you tell him the same. 

“Hmm, low sugar.” 

Then he picks you up and gently walks over to your desk, holding you in the same bridal pose without even a muscle flinching. With one hand, he clears the laptop sitting atop your desk to the coffee table, and swipes the rest of the clutter on the floor. It would’ve made you angry otherwise, but you’re already entering subzone with the way he’s handling you. Lips still locked on yours, holding you in that pose with just one hand as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life, it’s a crazy show of strength and you’re getting incredibly turned on by it. You let yourself go, giving it up to this person, who seems to be so reliable, so strong, so manly. 

As he lays you down on the desk, he takes off your trousers and underwear in one go, and sits down on the chair you usually sit on. 

“You’re so wet, so dirty. Did you touch yourself after texting me to come over?” Your pussy is at his eye level, and you’re looking down at him, his eyes menacing and beautiful at the same time. His question makes you squirm, as you reply, “Of course not.” Then there’s a slap across your cunt, and you whine. “Manners?” “Of course not, Sir.” “Liar,” he smirks, and dives headfirst into your cunt. 

It’s a treat he rarely gives you. Only when he’s very happy with you- like after you’ve taken thirty spanks, or you’ve eaten dinner with him while having a vibrator stuffed up your cunt, or you’ve let him wash you in the shower (for some reason, Wonwoo likes that a lot. He ties you up to these poles he’s attached in his bathroom, and plays with your body by applying as much oil and soap he wants, making sure not to touch your pussy for hours, denying every release to you even as it builds up just from the oversensitivity of having your nipples and ass played with). 

You wonder why he’s so happy. 

But you can’t care enough, now that his tongue is working so hard against your clit. The sensation makes you lose all rational thought, as you lean back against the desk, mind empty, and just moaning his name. You remember the first few times he’d fucked you with your mouth gagged, but then he’d told you he likes your sounds way too much, so you’d stopped controlling them too. He gets what he wants. After all, only he can fuck you so well. 

“Wonwoo, please-” He moves his head up, licking his lips which are glistening with your slick. “How do you address me baby?” “S-sorry! Sir, please I-” “Hmm?” He leans back in, humming against your clit. His tongue now moves to your hole, nose brushing against your clit. “Can I come? Like this? May I? Please?” When he moves away again for breath, he removes his hands from your thighs, and you see the red marks he’s left there just by how tight he was gripping them. It’s a wild sight, and your climax hits you right then, coming before he could answer. “So impatient, coming all over my face even when I’ve told you not to come without my permission.” But even his scolding sounds gentle tonight, softly chiding rather than his usual harsh coldness. In your post-orgasm clarity, you wonder again what’s gotten into him. 

He licks away your cum, and it makes you burn with overstimulation. “Uhhhhh, please-please Sir!” “Stay still.” His hands are back at your thighs, spreading them apart, and he seems hellbent on getting another orgasm from you. Your screams are louder this time, and you’re growing even more desperate to get something bigger to fill you up. You wrap your hands in his hair, and tug unconsciously while he keeps licking at your pussy. His entire face is hazy with your slick, thank god he’d taken off his glasses earlier, but he doesn’t care. He keeps diving in. 

“Sir, please, I’m going- uhhhh,” he pulls away instantly and smacks your cunt hard. “No coming until I allow you to. Let Sir have his treat.” “Please Sir I’ll be so good, I promise, I- please let me, just this once.” Another smack, and you’re screaming. Thank heavens the office is empty. 

“Do you not understand my words? Should I retrain you?”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.” 

“Hmm, you better be,” and this time he doesn’t just lick your pussy, but also starts entering two fingers alongside his tongue, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. You’re whining yet again, losing your breath, but everytime you’re about to come, he pulls away. You can’t figure out how he realises, but soon two hours pass by, and you’re still being edged. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t think straight. You just want more of his fingers, you want his cock, inside your mouth, your cunt, hell, you just want to orgasm once. 

“Girl, stop moving. You’re so filthy, dripping like this. What would your boytoy think if he saw you like this? Should I call him to clean this mess on your desk?” He’s curling his finger inside you, and it’s really hard forming words when you’re seeing stars like this. 

“Sir, I-” “What’s his name? Jieun?” “Ji- Jisung. Aaah, please-” “Look at you begging. So pathetic. No wonder your secretary is so pathetic. He really likes you, you know?” Your eyes go wide, trying to register his words. “Why- why are you- how do you–” “Hush. I want to know, is he jerking off to you now? Thinking of how slutty you looked in those grey trousers, how perfect your ass looked? Bet you show off in front of him on purpose.” You’re squirming harder, not wanting to think about Jisung right now. “But- but daddy, I on- only want you!”

He laughs, then he leans in to whisper into your ear, “Daddy? That’s a first. Say it again.” 

“Daddy, please! I only want your cock.” 

“Really? So demanding, like a wife. But you’re just a slut. You’d do this to Jisung as well, won’t you?” “No! I swear- please. Daddy, just, it’s just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I swear!” You nod feverishly, the sensation building up inside you again.

“Okay baby girl. Come for me. Come for daddy. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you good. This desk is too small.” You don’t need to be told twice. You gush all over his hands and some of your come ends up on your desk and his pants too, but he only chuckles. Licking off the come on his hands, he smiles. “You taste like sugar, sweetheart.”

_

The sheets you wake up in smell overwhelmingly like Wonwoo. The man is nowhere to be seen, but the blankets next to you are shuffled and the pillow has a dent, and you remember being caved by his warmth at night when the storm had hit Seoul again and you’d woken up for a second before falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of the chest wrapped around you. 

You wake up slowly, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in Wonwoo’s bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve slept over. Usually you leave, no matter how late it is. But it feels good. It feels oddly intimate. 

Your legs burn when you walk, but you try to look for your clothes. 

Your shirt is ripped again. 

You strut out of the room after wearing your panties and bra, which is barely holding on to one hook remaining, and find the man standing in the open kitchen, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. He’s drinking coffee, and a book is in his hands. 

“Wonwoo, you’ve torn my clothes again. How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He turns to face you, smiling and fixing his glasses, and standing up. He looks so good in the warmth of the sunlight falling on his golden skin. “You’re up.”

“Do you think I can keep buying new clothes?”

“Yes. Now, calm down. Do you-”

“Wonwoo!” 

“For god’s sake, I can’t take your shit this early in the morning. You want to fight, please do. Not now. It’s too early. You just always find something up your ass and have to pick on me for nothing, huh?”

His smile has faded, and the warmth in your body seeps away. About time, though. You don’t want to start feeling safe in Wonwoo’s private space. It’s too intimate- waking up in his bed, seeing him walk around in sweatpants, drinking coffee he’s making for you. It’s too much.

“This has to stop, Wonwoo.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll not rip your shirts. Take my card and buy something-”

“This arrangement has to stop.”

He turns away from the coffee machine for a second, and stares at you. You walk towards him, and he looks even better up close. His tank top shows off his arms, and they look soft yet really firm. You want to touch-

“Why? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Do you want to date someone? You can, you know. I don’t care-”

“Wonwoo-”

“Did I hurt you? Was I too much last night?” he steps closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows in evident confusion, and you suddenly can’t breathe. His expression is very much readable and it only reads as one emotion- concern.

“Wonwoo, please.” You take a step back, hugging yourself with your arms. 

“Does it hurt? I am sorry if it does-” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s a me thing, I swear.”

His eyes become clouded by even more confusion, and you quietly walk away and sit down on the kitchen counter. 

“This is becoming too much for me. I- I got into this arrangement thinking that it would be a good way to vent stress. But it’s toxic now- I can’t think of any other way to deal with stress except this. Don’t you notice how our meetings have become more frequent now, especially initiated from my end? In the last three months, I’ve initiated sex fifteen times, and you’ve only six times. You see? This has become my only solution now.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t look at you, but he keeps wincing at your words as if he’s being hit physically. Then he responds, when you’re done, “That does sound like  a you problem, like why-” 

You slide off the counter with a huff, muttering Fucking jerk under your breath, but he catches your wrist before you can walk further away. 

“Don’t touch me if you’re going to react like that. I fucking knew it, why did I even talk to you? I can just walk away, I didn’t even need to expose my weaknesses to you.” 

He yanks you closer using your wrist. “This isn’t a war, Y/N. I don’t get off on knowing about your weaknesses, for fuck’s sake. Can you stop being paranoid?”

You sigh. You know you’re always paranoid around him- funny, because he’s seen you in more compromising positions than anyone else. If he wanted to blackmail you, or hurt you, by hitting your weaknesses, he would, you realise. Is that why you’ve learnt to feel so safe around him? 

“I’m sorry I reacted like that, Y/N. Talk to me, let’s work this out together. Let’s set up a system to slow our meetings down if you like?” 

You bite your lip, and look up at him. “How?” 

“Umm, how about you start to find other sources for it? Like hanging out with friends? Developing hobbies?” 

You huff again, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Wonwoo, if I had other sources, would I not use them?” 

“Darl-”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not having sex right now.”

“Y/N. Take your time to find other sources, then. If I’m your only means of relieving stress, it is extremely toxic. You’ll become dependent on me, and-” his pupils shake, looking away from you, “you’ll find it tough to date and all. Been there. Done that. That’s why I can tell you this.”

You’re about to reply something, when your phone rings out in a shrill tone. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s phone rings out at the same time too. 

You jog into the bedroom to find your phone and pick it up. It’s your sister. 

“Y/N-ie! You’re not at home?”

“No. Why? Are you coming over?” 

“No, I just made Kyungmin drive us to your place to see your place is empty. Where are you?”

“Never mind where I am. Why did you come over?” 

“Mum and Dad want us to have lunch with the Jeons,” you can hear her giggle. But you’re stunned. “With the Jeons? Now? Today? For what joy? Are we buying their company?” She giggles again, leaving you more frustrated. “You’ll find out. I’ll send you an address then, come over directly!” And she promptly ends the call, leaving you blank and confused. Your phone pings- there’s the address of a restaurant, and a message asking you to be there within an hour. You realise only now how late you’ve woken up, and you’re glad it’s a Sunday.

“Why am I eating lunch with your parents?” Wonwoo walks into the bedroom, that confused look on his face again. “I could literally ask you the same damn thing. What’s going on?” “Does it look like I’ve got a single clue, babe?” He smirks at your cluelessness, and walks into his ensuite bathroom, leaving you speechless. Did he just call me babe? You wonder, but then your mind flits back to the issue at hand. 

“Wonwoo!” You scream at him from outside the bathroom. You’re sure he can hear you, so you don’t wait for a reply. “Yah! What am I supposed to wear? You’ve torn my clothes, you fucker!” Your stress levels are rising again. You’re going to have to go back home to wear something appropriate. You realise that you haven’t even brought your car. You’ll have to ask Wonwoo to drive you back. But fuck, what if your sister is still at your place?  Then she’ll see you both coming together, and undoubtedly she’ll prod and poke you. Then you won’t be able to have the upper hand at lunch when Wonwoo signs his company over to you. But there’s no other option as well. Well, there is- you can always stop at a boutique or a shop to buy something and wear it on the go. But that’d mean you’d have to go out in this hideously ripped blouse of yours. Oh!

“Wonwoo! You dumbass! I hate you! What have you done now? Why are we going for this lunch? For god’s sake.”

“Stop screaming, woman.” The door suddenly opens, and a half-naked Wonwoo steps out, engulfed in the steam from what was definitely a very hot shower. You have to stop yourself from moaning out at the sight. It reminds you of the three times you’ve showered together, and you can’t help but think back to the vivid memories of those sessions. 

“How can I stop screaming? I don’t even know what’s going on. You knew about this, didn’t you? Why are you so calm?” Wonwoo takes another step towards you, and he runs his hands along your arms. You shiver under his touch, realising you’re still wearing just your underwear. “Calm down. This isn’t a big deal, you’ve dealt with more serious issues. It’s just lunch.” “But it’s lunch with your family. I don’t even know why.” He presses a hand along your cheek, and you’re feeling even more conscious and nervous. Why? This is really unusual, because Wonwoo is right. You’ve been in worse emergencies. Why is this getting on your nerves? Probably because your periods are due this week. These are just your hormones. 

“Just enjoy the food. You’re anyway good at ignoring me in public places, and you can do the same to my family too.” 

You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I need fresh clothes.” 

“Yeah okay. Get into the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll ask my secretary to send something over.” “What? How-” “I think she’s the same dimensions as you.” “Oh.” You step away from him, swallowing whatever words you had to say. “I’ll go into the shower then.”

_

Thirty-five minutes and a very nice warm shower later, you’re standing in the bedroom and there’s a very pretty black dress on the bed. There’s also a new pair of lingerie next to it, complete with red roses sewn into black lace. Wow, that’s what Wonwoo asked his secretary to buy, huh. He definitely knows her dimensions very well. And the clothes fit, almost perfectly as if tailor-made. The dress is of unknown brand but the feel of the satin on your skin feels nice enough for you to forget about its origin. 

“Done?” Wonwoo steps into the room. “Jeez, can you knock? Scared me.” You’re applying Wonwoo’s sunscreen (frankly shocked to see him owning it, but then, his skin is pretty nice). You’ve also applied the same perfume as his, and combed your hair in a million different ways, to make up for the lack of make-up or your usual products. 

“Knock when I’ve seen you naked in this very room a hundred times? No thanks. Let’s go, we’re late.” 

“Hmm,” you slip your feet into your shoes and pick up your bag. “I’m ready.” So is Wonwoo, you notice, who’s dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. The softness of his clothes contrast the sharpness of his features, and it… looks nice. 

It takes you two twenty minutes to reach the restaurant, the ride passed in silence as you catch up on work mails from your phone. 

“I’ll go first, and you come ten minutes later, okay?” “Yeah. And Y/N, don’t tell them you were with me, okay?” “Of course not. I’m not a dumb nut like you.” And you shut the door of the car with unnecessary force as you walk out of the car. You swear you can hear Wonwoo curse behind you, but you give no fucks. 

“Oh! Y/N-ie! Welcome!” You walk straight into the arms of your mother, who’s dressed in a gaudy dress that does not suit her figure. “Eomma! How many times have I asked you not to wear these dresses?” “Oh shush! I bought this last weekend. Don’t tell me it looks bad, I’m in a good mood now.” You grimace and walk towards the table where your sister, her husband, and your father are waiting for you, smiling from ear to ear. Mr and Mrs Jeon, and Wonwoo’s younger brother are sitting on the other side of the table, also smiling from ear to ear. The excessive smiles are disturbing you, you’ve positively never seen Mrs. Jeon smile that wide.

“Oh, you look so good! Did you lose weight, Y/N-ie?” Mrs Jeon beckons you to sit next to her, and she takes your hand in hers. You force a smile on your face, still clueless about what’s going on. You can only hope they start talking about it when Wonwoo comes. 

Speaking of the devil, he does come way earlier than you asked him too. You’re suddenly nervous, as the families start smiling again. “Aigoo, our handsome boy is here. Sit here, sit here.” Your sister welcomes him and he sits wedged between her and his mother.

“Eomma, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Aah, straight to the point. Forget about that, tell us, did you both come together?” You spill out the drink from your mouth, almost choking. “Us? Together? Hahaha. No, of course not! Why would you think that Mrs Jeon? Hahaha.” “Hmm…” your sister exchanges looks with your mother and Mrs Jeon, before finally giving you that stupidly bright smile again. “Is there something you both want to tell us? We’ll give you a chance before-” Wonwoo interrupts, “Appa, what’s this nonsense? Just tell us without this suspense.”

Mr Jeon, who’d quietly been busy on his phone for so long, looks up and stares a little blankly. His wife nudges him, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, so, Wonwoo. You know you both can tell us what you want.” Your father pipes in, “Yes, same goes for you, Y/N.” Wonwoo and you exchange confused looks before you speak up, “Okay, but really. What’s this suspense for?”

“We know you’re dating.” Your sister blurts out, and there’s a sudden silence at the table. 

You think your eyes may burst out from the shock, and the way in which your palms instantly become sweaty is a dead giveaway of your nervousness. “What?! Unnie, are you out of your mind? What the fuck?” 

“Language, Y/n-ah.” Your mother says, “You think we don’t know what you both are doing, huh?” And then she giggles. The damn audacity.

“I think there’s some grave misunderstanding, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N and I are… certainly, not dating.” Wonwoo’s mother grasps his hand across the table, and says, “Oh my son. My dutiful son. You don’t have to pretend about this. Just because Jeon Estates is rivals with Y/N’s company, doesn’t mean you both have to be secretive about dating!” There’s a little cough from both fathers, and Kyungmin and Wonbin, Wonwoo’s brother, burst out laughing. 

“Eomma, we’re not hiding anything. It’s a fact, we aren’t-”

“Explain these then. Booking out Eiffel Tower for a dinner date, huh?”

“Eomma, how do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“No! Of course not! We just looked at your credit card bill, accidentally. Then I spoke to Bora, your secretary, and she confirmed that you’d been spending a lot of time with Y/N. Not only that, there’s more-”

“Yes, indeed. Y/N-ie, why didn’t you ever tell us?”

You gasp, feeling lightheaded. “Did Jisung…? That trai-”

“Not Jisung. Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth. So I spoke to your chauffeur. He tells me he regularly picks you up from Wonwoo’s place?”

That’s it. This is it. It doesn’t get worse than this. This is your end. Oh, earth, swallow me up.

“Darling,” Mrs Jeon rubs your back, “Please don’t feel so shy. We know that our husbands haven’t left a great friendship for you two heirs. But you need not worry about all this rivalry.”

Your sister joins, “Yes. I’ve convinced Appa, and our lovely Aunt Jiwoo has convinced Mr Jeon too. Oh you both are so silly, hiding a precious thing like this from us.”

Wonwoo and you glare at each other. You realise there’s no point in explaining things to these people sitting in front of you. If they’ve reached the point where your sister is calling Wonwoo’s mother as aunt, then they must have discussed this extensively before calling you two to this lunch. An ambush, that’s what this is, you think in despair. 

“So what we’re saying is, instead of keeping it hidden like this, why don’t the two of you get married? Wonwoo-ah? You’re turning thirty next year, aren’t you? I want to see my grandchildren too,” Mrs Jeon says, and everything falls in place. This is blackmail. Your mother’s been asking you to get married ever since you took over the company, claiming that having a man at your side would help your life be perfect and free of any troubles, and even forcing you on some arranged dates. Wonwoo must be going through the same kind of thing, with him being three years older to you also. It fixes the nail in the coffin, and you stand up from your seat.

“That’s not happening. Mrs Jeon, Mr Jeon, Wonbin-ah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, and the same goes for my family too. Wonwoo and I are grown adults. What we do is none of your business.”

“But if you are dating, what’s the issue with getting married? And from what I hear, it’s not even a recent fling. All this has been going on for a year now!” Your mother cries out loudly. Although you’re sitting in a secluded corner, the restaurant isn’t quite empty. 

“We’re not… dating. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Well, then are you guys enemies having movie sleepovers?” your sister adds, and it’s too annoying. “And why did you come over in Wonwoo’s car?” How the fuck? But then you realise, nothing is beyond these women. They may be keeping tabs on your and his car GPS for all you know. 

Wonwoo stands up, looming over your figure. “That’s quite enough. Like Y/N said, what we do is not your business. Thank you for your concern, and enjoy your meal. Eomma, since you’ve taken access to my credit card already, might as well use it to treat yourselves with this meal.” He steps out of the chair, and walks over to where you’re standing. He swiftly grabs your wrist, and pulls you away, “Let’s go. This is a waste of time.” And just like that, the two of you walk away.  

_

Six days later, a wedding invite stands ready in front of you, held out in Jisung’s pale hands. “Does it look good, Ma’am? I’ll send it for printing then.” 

You sigh, and nod your yes.

_

part 2 is now out!

[rosepinks-world]

CHERRY WAVES | logan howlett

‘I liked it a first but the more you laughed the crazier I came.’

summary: you and logan are fuck buddies but one day something changes.

fem reader, brief smut, bit of angst at the end, probs ooc but oh well

part two

You’d known Logan about a year now thanks to Wade but you’d been hooking up with him for six months - not that you were counting. It was casual. Friends with benefits. A booty call. Whatever. It wasn’t serious.

To you that was perfect. You had good sex and didn’t have to worry about getting your heart stomped on, that seemed to happen a-lot.

Tonight was no different. You had a routine.

Step 1

He knocked on your door and the minute you answered his lips were on yours roughly attacking them as he pushed you against the wall.

Step 2

He pulled away and looked at you like you were some sort of goddess.

Step 3

“How was your day?” You asked pulling off your top.

“Shit.” He replied as he did the same. Reconnecting your lips

Step 4

With your lips connected you made your way into the bedroom and when you did you backed into the bed falling onto it. You moved up to the headboard so you could lean against it and he followed.

Step 5

Sex.

Except this time it was different. You couldn’t quite tell why but you knew it wasn’t the same.

He kissed you passionately as you secured his body to yours by wrapping your legs around his waist subconsciously grinding against him pulling a low groan from his mouth as he pulled away. You whined pathetically at the loss of him and he cupped your face for comfort. Your lips parted as he reattached his to your stomach going lower and lower…

He ate you out every-time you had sex but something this time felt different. You lifted your hips to let him pull your underwear down and he placed himself happily between your thighs. This time it felt more intimate. The way the scruff of his beard didn’t scratch your inner thighs but rather softly tickled them and the way he gently rubbed the flesh of your hips as he pressed his lips to your clit, gently sucking.

“Fuck.” You say writhing against his mouth.

You could hear the wetness of his saliva and your arousal and the dirtiness of the whole situation turned you on more.

He pulled away for a second, catching his breath and letting his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“You’re so fuckin wet baby.” He shook his head in disbelief and uttered a final compliment before diving back in, “So fuckin hot.”

That did it for you (the addition of his fingers also helped) you could feel your orgasm coming as you grabbed a handful of his hair to steady yourself.

Your moans got louder and louder and as you came you were sure the neighbours could hear you. Your legs were shaking and tears of pleasure coated your eyes. Without thinking (too fucked out to think) you threw your head back and it connected harshly with the headboard. You groaned and Logan immediately raised his head in concern sitting up on his knees.

Instead of being met with a pained expression or even tears he was met with a smile. Your hand was placed on the spot behind your head where you’d hit it and a smile mixed with a wince adorned your beautiful face. The minute you saw him you couldn’t help but laugh.

God your laugh, it always had me whipped.

Unbeknownst to you, the entire time he’d been eating you out he’d been grinding into the mattress, your pleasure turning him on that much, then hearing your laugh tipped him over the edge.

He came in his pants like a fucking teenage boy.

You were so perfect. Everything he could ever want. But you weren’t even his.

“Did you…um?”

He stood up quickly. Gathering his white tank top and jeans slipping them both on.

“I’m gonna have a smoke.” In his rush he almost tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to the door of your very tiny balcony.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Logan was a confident borderline cocky man there was no way he was flipping his shit because he came from just eating you out. There was something more. You pulled on your underwear and grabbed the flannel he’d left on the bed doing the first few buttons up so your boobs were covered. You’d given him at least a couple drags of his cigar on his own so now you decided to join him for the final ones.

He looked at you as you walked out, taking in your appearance.

Fuck.

He loved post sex you.

The flushed face, the messy but still sexy hair, the way you’d always throw on his clothes after. He also loved the way your nipples pierced through his shirt as they were hit with the cold air. That was enough to get him going again.

“What’s going on?” You’d asked pulling his attention from you.

He sighed blowing smoke out of his lips something he knew you loved always going on about how hot it was, “We shouldn’t keep doing this bub.”

Bub. He called everyone that but he only said it to you when he was trying to be caring.

You were hurt. Was the sex not good anymore? Was he seriously that bothered about blowing his load? You played off your hurt with a slight joke.

“What can’t you take it old man?”

He’d normally laugh at that but you were met with his serious yet sympathetic eyes.

“Seriously. We shouldn’t.”

The slight shake of your head the quiver of your lip and the furrow of your eyebrows. You were confused, upset and slightly angry. Logan always knew how to read you.

“Logan? What! Why?”

He sighed handing you his cigar and you awkwardly gave it a puff. He knew you preferred cigarettes. He wanted to smile at the memory of you ranting about how expensive cigars were and that the first time you tried one you almost passed out because no one had told you that you weren’t suppose to inhale them. You spat out the smoke, angrily handing it back to him murmuring about how you ‘hated those fucking things’ he frowned slightly feeling guilty for what he was about to do.

Without any warning, he stood up and walked to the door you quick on his trail.

“Logan! What the fuck? What’s going on?”

He opened the door his back to you but he couldn’t help but whip his head in the direction of your voice. He stared at you more and didn’t think about the words that came out next.

“We can’t keep doing this because I’m falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened.

“…And that is the last thing any of us need.”

He turned back and walked out. The door slammed shut.