#so if someone wants to run with this idea go ahead

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Today, we’re going to talk about the Mars sign and how it influences the way you take action. Action is what drives our day-to-day lives. Without it, nothing would come to fruition. Your Mars sign shapes your approach to action in ways that many people have never fully explored. Let me guide you through how your Mars sign dictates how you take action.

Aries Mars

With an Aries Mars, your life is all about movement. You dislike stillness, boredom, and feeling useless. You’re a natural worker, and when you’re not working, it negatively impacts your self-worth and empowerment. You feel defeated and weakened without constant action.

In this position, Aries Mars doesn’t like to overthink. They avoid people who crowd their mind with too many ideas. Instead, they prefer to act based on instinct and what feels right in the moment. They are the ultimate guide and compass for their own life and dislike being told what to do. If you try to get an Aries Mars to listen to others, they will become aggressive and shut you down or refuse to listen. They want to rule their own lives.

As a cardinal sign, Aries Mars is quick to start things. They’re quick to apply for a job, try something new, or go after what they want. They don’t like being bossed around; instead, they expect others to take orders from them. If you’re interacting with an Aries Mars, you must listen to what they say and obey their rules.

Ruled by Mars, Aries Mars is hot-headed, creative, and aggressive. They don’t know how to dial back their energy. They express themselves directly, preferring a clear yes or no—nothing in between. Aries Mars loves to be dominant, and submissive roles never suit them. They won’t last long in situations where they aren’t in control.

They want to show strength and capability, so they’ll always gravitate toward opportunities that allow them to demonstrate their power. Aries Mars doesn’t like being told no; they’ll knock down walls just to prove they’re strong enough to do it. If you plant a seed of doubt in their mind, they’ll quickly show you why you’re wrong.

Fearless by nature, Aries Mars will often try to push through challenges—even when they’re not fully capable—driven by adrenaline. They run on this adrenaline, ensuring that everything they do is done in a big way. Their motto is “Go big or go home.”

With this placement, you might rise to the top or crash to the bottom. But even if you fall, you always have the resilience to get back up. Life for Aries Mars flows in cycles—cycles of danger and cycles of success. But no matter what, you have the ability to rise above it all.

Taurus Mars

You can’t be bothered with people who don’t understand how you do things, because it annoys you to explain yourself to those who aren’t willing to understand. You have the ability to be discerning, and you can easily spot when someone is asking you to do something just because it’s different from how you do things, versus when someone truly wants to assist you. However, in this action-oriented placement, you often move too slowly for Mars. While Mars is racing ahead, you take your sweet time, falling far behind. Although, one day, you will catch up with Mars—it just might take a while. For you, Taurus Mars, it’s all about being slow and steady, but sometimes, you might fall out of the race entirely.

Taurus Mars prefers to stick to tried-and-true methods. You dislike doing anything unconventional. You need traditional, proven, scientifically researched methods. You want to know what your grandmother did and replicate it because, frankly, you don’t care about modern technology or the latest ideologies. What works is what you’ll do, because you don’t have the energy to explore new ideas.

At your core, Taurus Mars is all about pleasure. You hardly want to move unless there’s something in it for you. You’re transactional—refusing to take on tasks for trivial amounts of money. You know your worth and won’t settle for small change. You need to know exactly how much you’ll be compensated before you’ll even consider moving.

Taurus Mars is motivated by pleasure. Anything that makes life feel more beautiful, relaxing, and luxurious is what draws you in. If you’re only offering exercise as an incentive, forget it. Taurus Mars doesn’t care about working out; it cares about sitting back and enjoying life. Your movements are slow and deliberate, as you’re playing a long game. You’re not concerned with building muscle or being the strongest—you’re aiming to enjoy life to the fullest in your own way.

Your actions are meticulous and intentional, and this often frustrates others who are always in a rush. While they’re eager to get somewhere, Taurus Mars is focused on enjoying the ride. You’re all about sensuality and taking pleasure in movement, but only in ways that make you feel beautiful, useful, and at peace. You don’t want to work at a construction site; you’d rather paint, water the garden, dance, or create something beautiful.

The Mars energy can be too strong for Taurus, causing a clash. Mars urges you to act quickly, but Taurus is reluctant to rush. This makes it take a long time for you to take any significant action because you need to know that what you’re doing will produce tangible results.

There are two things that are crucial for Taurus Mars to move:

1. It needs to feel like an investment. You need to see that what you’re doing is worth the effort and will yield results.

2. You cannot be bothered by things that require too much physical exertion or mental strain. You prefer tasks that allow you to use your eye for beauty and aesthetics rather than relying on brute strength or intense mental effort.

Taurus Mars sits between physical strength and mental power when taking action. You also need to know that whatever you’re doing is sustainable. If something requires too much energy, you won’t pursue it. But if it’s low energy and leads nowhere, you’ll also avoid it.

What sets Taurus Mars apart is that when they finally take action, they do so with such discernment and efficiency that they often produce far greater results than others who are taking constant action. While others might rush through their tasks, Taurus Mars moves slowly, but when they take that one step, the payoff is significant. People might get jealous when they see that after taking three months to decide, Taurus Mars ends up with more than the person who’s been acting every day. Taurus Mars doesn’t leap without thought—they only take action when they know it will work. And that’s why, in the end, they often end up in a better position than others.

Gemini Mars

How did the planet Mercury meet Mars? Well, they talked their way over to Mars, who was busy working, and now they’re distracting Mars from getting things done. Yes, Gemini Mars is always distracted from taking action.

Seeing a Gemini Mars take action is like seeing a rainbow in the sky—a rare and beautiful occurrence. Everyone gathers around to admire it, but it doesn’t happen often. For Gemini Mars, they are cerebral thinkers. They don’t care much about doing. In fact, they prefer to watch others do the work because they can’t be bothered to lift a finger.

Why would they exert physical effort when their strength lies in their mental capacity? Instead of doing, they prefer to instruct others who are willing to act. They’ll share their ideas, plan things out, and let others carry out the tasks. That’s the essence of Gemini Mars.

In this position, Mars is full of energy and ready to take action, but it’s facing Mercury, who is just talking. So, Gemini Mars doesn’t thrive here. Why? Because Mars is waiting for Gemini to act, but Gemini is too busy talking. If you meet someone with Gemini Mars, they’ll be a big talker—full of grand ideas, theories, and ideologies. They can talk about everything from social groups and celebrities to the latest trends. But when you ask them what they’ve actually done today, they haven’t done much because it’s all in their head.

One thing Gemini Mars is good at is meeting new people and finding ways to externalize their thoughts. They can convince others to be the ones who do what needs to be done. For example, a Gemini Mars might have a girlfriend who does all the cooking and cleaning, while the Gemini Mars doesn’t lift a finger. Why? Because the Gemini Mars has charmed and persuaded the person into doing these things, using their charisma and Mercury energy to convince them that it’s the best thing for them to do. Now, the Gemini Mars doesn’t have to cook dinner or clean clothes because they’ve convinced someone else to do it.

That’s the essence of Gemini Mars. They will persuade you to do what they don’t want to do. They’ll give you the ideas, make lists for you, and tell you exactly how to do it, but they won’t execute it themselves. They’re thinkers, not doers. Gemini Mars excels in jobs that require them to use their creativity and intellect but not physical labor. If the job requires them to be hands-on, they’ll likely fail or quit because that’s not where their strength lies.

When it comes to decision-making, Gemini Mars is also slow. They don’t like to make decisions because they’re constantly processing information. They’re never set in stone with their conclusions. Instead, they’re always transitioning between different ideas, theories, and thoughts without committing to one. This indecisiveness makes Gemini Mars a poor decision-maker.

While this might not be the best placement in times when people were expected to take action and do physical labor, Gemini Mars functions well in modern, intellectual eras where new ideas and technological advancements are valued. In today’s world, Gemini Mars thrives in environments that require efficient thinking, ideation, and constant mental stimulation. They’re not going to do the work—they’re just going to tell you how to do it.

Cancer Mars

When we think of Mars, we think of action—raw, animalistic, pure energy. And then here comes the soft, subtle Moon. Mars doesn’t even notice the Moon because it’s too busy working, while the Moon is focused on comfort and feeling. Mars has no time for that.

Now, imagine the position of Cancer Mars. Mars doesn’t like this placement. Mars wants the Moon as far away as possible because the Moon brings “yucky, icky” feelings. Mars is all about action—so why sit in emotions and feelings without doing something about it? For Cancer, they’re such strong feelers, and in the Mars position, this impedes their ability to take action because they’re stuck in the realm of emotions, comfort, and familiarity. Action feels chaotic, aggressive, and all over the place. Cancer Mars prefers to stay in their comfort zone.

As a cardinal sign, Cancer wants to lead, but they also don’t want to take action. They feel propelled to act but may impulsively start something before their emotions take over. Once that emotional wave rises, Cancer Mars becomes paralyzed by feelings—overwhelmed by emotions, unsure of where to go, and unsure of what action to take. One minute they feel happy, the next minute they feel sad, and then they might feel angry. They don’t know where to go or how to move forward because they’re consumed by their emotions.

So, Cancer Mars takes a long time before making any moves. They’re the type to feel sudden inspiration to do something because they have cardinal energy and they’re ready to start—but once they feel that urge to begin, their emotions kick in. The overthinking starts, and now Cancer is uncertain. They wonder if they should take action, or if it’s the right time to do so. They’re caught up in their emotions and not sure which direction to take.

A Cancer Mars needs to process through cyclical emotional states before they can make a decision. If you’ve ever met a Cancer Mars, you might have noticed they can never make a decision on the spot. That’s because they want to say “yes,” but they know their emotions are going to influence them, and they can’t make a firm decision until they’ve worked through those emotions.

By the time Cancer Mars is ready to make a decision, they’re trying to operate from the highest emotional state possible. So if they’re feeling down or going through a somber period, they’ll wait to make any decisions until they feel like they’re in a more elevated emotional state. This can slow things down even more.

Cancer Mars is like the person you rely on, but you never know what mood they’ll be in. On Monday, they say they’ll pick you up on Thursday, and you think you can count on that. But by Tuesday, their emotions have shifted, and they change their mind. By Wednesday, they may change it back to “yes,” and now you’re left wondering if they’ll actually follow through. This fluctuation creates uncertainty, and by Thursday, you’re on pins and needles, wondering whether or not Cancer Mars will show up.

This placement is terrible for decision-making until Cancer Mars grows emotional intelligence and learns to understand their emotions without being completely absorbed by them. In the meantime, they’ll make decisions slowly. Even when Cancer Mars does make decisions, there’s still that cardinal energy. Sometimes the decision is impulsive—just a sheer desire to take action—but it might change repeatedly.

So while Libra might be known for being indecisive, Cancer Mars is even more indecisive because their moods and emotions create a barrier to taking action. However, once Cancer Mars finally takes action, they’re committed. After all the back-and-forth and emotional processing, when they do move forward, they really want to do it.

But remember, Cancer Mars doesn’t like aggression, harshness, or fast-paced action. When they take action, they’ll want to do it with grace, moving demurely and with class. That’s the Cancer Mars way.

Leo Mars

When we think of Mars, we think of action—raw, powerful energy. Now, imagine the Sun coming into the picture. Mars looks over its shoulder and smiles because the Sun brings enthusiasm, positivity, and light. With the Sun’s radiant energy, Mars feels motivated to do more, shine brighter, and keep pursuing what it wants. This is the essence of Leo Mars.

For Leo Mars, they bring positivity to action. While some Mars placements can make action seem serious, Leo injects fun, joy, and light-hearted energy into it. Mars feels it can smile more with Leo around. Leo Mars doesn’t just want to do things—they want to do them with purpose, passion, and the best energy they can offer. When they act, they are fired up and unstoppable. However, because Leo Mars is a fixed sign, they’re not always the initiators.

Leo Mars isn’t as original as people often assume. Unlike Aries Mars, which is known for being a leader and trailblazer, Leo Mars tends to follow in the footsteps of the Cardinal signs. They observe and then act, especially when they see something successful. Leo Mars is drawn to established success and often finds themselves following what’s already been built, rather than starting something from scratch.

For example, if Leo Mars sees someone doing well—gaining followers, making money, or growing influence—they’ll jump on board. As a fixed sign, they don’t want to create something new but will instead take what already works and build upon it. They want to enhance and magnify what is already established. So, if you’re making money or gaining followers, Leo Mars will take notice and figure out how they can make it bigger, better, and more powerful.

This tendency to build on existing success is why Leo Mars often develops a big ego. They want to outdo the person who showed them the way or introduced them to something new. If you teach a Leo Mars anything, be prepared for them to want to do it better than you. If you have more money, expect Leo Mars to eventually surpass you in that area, too. This is the nature of fixed energy—it makes decisions with confidence and believes it can work because they see the potential to build on what’s already there.

When Leo Mars takes action, they need recognition for it. They thrive on praise, acknowledgment, and admiration. This is why Leo Mars tends to follow trends or go after what’s already working—they know that if they master it, they will receive recognition, whether it’s through more followers, more money, or more praise.

While this is a great position for Mars, as Leo Mars is not afraid to take action and doesn’t overthink things, it does have its shadow side. Leo Mars often hops onto trends or opportunities that are already established, simply to get the best out of them.

I’ve personally seen Leo Mars individuals outdo others by taking what’s already successful and making it their own. They’re great at making friends and gaining popularity, which is part of why they can take action so easily. Leo Mars knows how to charm people and make them feel good, often offering compliments and encouragement. But secretly, they’re calculating how to rise to the top of the group, become the leader, and take control.

So, if you have a Leo Mars around you, watch out. While they might seem friendly and encouraging, they’re often quietly working their way to the top, taking what’s already established and making it theirs. As with all fixed signs, Leo Mars can be sneaky, as they tend to build off of what’s already there, rather than creating something entirely new.

Virgo Mars

When we talk about Virgo Mars, we’re talking about the energy of Mercury. Just like Gemini Mars, Mercury talks its way over to Mars, distracting Mars from its hard work. Mars gets irritated because Mercury just keeps talking while Mars wants to focus and work. Virgo Mars is similar, but unlike the mental energy of Gemini, the Earth energy of Virgo is more pragmatic and focused on tangible results, rather than just conveying information.

This placement isn’t ideal because Mars’ energy is fast and impulsive. It wants to work quickly, get the job done, and move on—without worrying about every single detail. But Virgo? Virgo is all about analyzing the details, and Mars hates that. This creates a conflict. Even when Virgo Mars does take action, they’ve already burned through most of Mars’ energy by overanalyzing and overthinking the details. Mars doesn’t care about the details—that’s Mercury’s domain. When Mars is in play, it’s about taking action, not slowing things down with unnecessary analysis.

Virgo Mars struggles because they feel the need to make decisions, but they can’t until they’ve gathered all the information. They’re caught up in the details, unsure of what’s right or what they should do. While Mars is already down the street, Virgo Mars is still at home, trying to decide what shoes to wear or what hat to put on. By the time they’ve made a decision, Mars has already moved on.

Because of this tendency to overthink and focus on the minutiae, Virgo Mars misses many opportunities in life. They’re great at making good decisions, but they take so long to decide that by the time they’re ready, the opportunity is gone.

For example, if a Virgo Mars has a crush on someone, they will notice every detail about that person: how their eyes look, how they talk, how they dress, even their strengths and weaknesses. Virgo Mars will analyze the person deeply, thinking about how they would fit into their life if they were to date or marry them. All of this is happening in Virgo Mars’ mind—yet, they never take action. They think, think, think, but don’t do anything.

By the time Virgo Mars finally decides to act, months have passed, and the person they had their eye on is already in a relationship. They took so long to make a move that the opportunity slipped away. This is how Virgo Mars works—slow to take action but very detailed and prepared when they finally do.

Similarly, if Virgo Mars is applying for a job, they might miss out because they’re too focused on getting the perfect resume, researching everything about the company, and preparing for the interview. By the time they’re ready, someone else has already gotten the job. Virgo Mars moves too slowly and overthinks everything. They’re obsessed with getting everything right, but by taking too long, they miss out on opportunities.

Virgo Mars is different from Taurus Mars. While Taurus Mars takes their time to pursue what pleases them, Virgo Mars focuses on the details of the process. They want everything to be perfect, down to the smallest detail, but that can cause them to miss out on life’s bigger opportunities. They think they’re doing things the right way, but they can’t get out of their own mindset and, as a result, they get stuck.

Virgo Mars is driven by the need to function and operate efficiently, but that drive often results in paralysis by analysis. They get caught up in the small stuff, and because of their perfectionism, they end up taking too long to act. Their need for everything to be perfect in a certain way, in a certain form, often prevents them from taking action at all.

This is how Virgo Mars takes action—slow, methodical, and focused on details. But their overthinking and obsession with perfection often cause them to miss out on what’s really important in life.

Libra Mars

Libra Mars, like Taurus Mars, is ruled by Venus. However, with Libra Mars, the energy is in the air element, making things more complex and trickier. Venus, as we know, doesn’t like Mars because Mars is aggressive, feisty, and action-oriented, while Venus just wants to relax, look beautiful, and be pampered. These two energies are quite different and often collide.

For Libra Mars, the Venus energy can’t handle the raw force of Mars. Mars is too harsh, too demanding, and too forceful for the more balanced and calm nature of Libra. Libra doesn’t like demands—it values space, balance, and harmony. So, when we look at Libra Mars, we see a person who is very much in their head. They don’t want to take action, because Air signs are more about mental energy than physical action. They prefer to have others do things for them while they create ideas and communicate what needs to be done. They want others to bring their thoughts and theories to life, but they don’t want to do the hard work themselves.

Libra Mars is great at interpersonal connections. Like Gemini Mars, they enjoy talking to people, but Libra Mars tends to be more one-on-one and personal. While Gemini Mars is sociable in a larger sense, Libra Mars seeks to build meaningful connections with individuals, not groups. They find someone they can communicate their ideas to, and once they find that person, they feel empowered to share their thoughts. They will have many conversations, but their goal is to find someone who can act on those ideas.

Libra Mars, much like Taurus Mars, doesn’t like to move for petty change or engage in hard, physical labor. They’re not like Aries Mars, who thrives on action and strength. Libra Mars wants to show their intellect and creativity, not their physical strength. They prefer to relax, enjoy themselves, and talk to others. They’re charismatic, charming, and flirtatious, able to make people feel good with their words. They’ll often inflate someone’s ego, encourage them, and make them feel like they can achieve anything.

Once they’ve made someone feel good, Libra Mars will convey their ideas and ask that person to carry out the work. They’re all about balance and think they are providing the mental energy while others bring the physical action. For example, Libra Mars may have a business idea they think is great, but they don’t like to take action. They’re too caught up in the details, the balance, and the perfection of the idea. They’re always overthinking, trying to make everything perfect, and this prevents them from moving forward.

What Libra Mars wants is for others to do the hard work. They want someone to make the money, build the business, or take care of the physical aspects of a project while they sit back and be the brain behind it. They don’t mind working in a team, as long as they don’t have to take the lead in the execution. Libra Mars thrives when they can make connections and delegate tasks to others.

However, this placement isn’t always the best. Libra Mars can be so focused on balance that it takes them a long time to figure out exactly what they want or need. They’re constantly going back and forth in their mind, weighing options, and trying to make everything “just right.” This overthinking process can delay their ability to take action or even decide what they want others to do. They may lead others on with their charm and ideas, but when it comes time to act, they often don’t know what they want or how to proceed.

By the time Libra Mars figures out what they want, they’ve worn others out. They have a lot of ideas, and since they’re cardinal energy, they’re always coming up with new thoughts and inspirations. However, the problem is that they often don’t follow through. They have no follow-through because they’re too focused on the mental side of things and not the action side.

The best thing Libra Mars can do is build relationships with others who can help them bring their ideas to life. But it takes time for them to fully understand what they want, communicate it clearly, and work harmoniously with others to make it happen. This results in a delayed, sometimes chaotic process before they can achieve their desires.

Scorpio Mars

When Mars is hard at work, taking action, and making things materialize, Scorpio sneaks up from behind. Mars feels Scorpio’s energy permeating through them—Mars can feel both the Mars energy from Scorpio and the deeper, darker, murky energy from Pluto. When Mars turns around, they see nothing but Scorpio Mars.

Scorpio Mars is a strong placement because Mars rules Scorpio, and because of this, Mars appreciates how Scorpio operates. Scorpio gets straight to the point and doesn’t waste time, which is something Mars loves. However, Scorpio has a deeper, darker side that Mars doesn’t fully understand. While Scorpio Mars is effective at getting things done, using Mars energy to take action without overthinking or becoming too emotional, Pluto’s energy slows them down.

Mars wants fast results—it’s quick, action-oriented, and aggressive. But Pluto, which rules Scorpio, is about long-term, transformative results. Pluto doesn’t rush; it seeks to change things profoundly. This creates a collision. While Mars seeks quick results, Pluto requires a deeper, more gradual process. Scorpio Mars, therefore, tends to take longer to accomplish their goals because they’re focused on transformation and regeneration.

This long-term focus is actually beneficial because, unlike Aries Mars, which can burn out quickly, Scorpio Mars aims for lasting success. However, this comes with its challenges. Pluto demands hard work and persistence. In this placement, Scorpio Mars is fixed energy, which means it prefers to build upon what already exists rather than start something new.

When Scorpio Mars wants to transform something, they look at what’s already progressing or developing and decide, “I can make this better.” They thrive on improving what others may overlook. This makes them different from Aries Mars, as Scorpio Mars has the foresight to see potential before it’s fully realized. They don’t plan like Virgo Mars, which overthinks; instead, Scorpio Mars intuitively senses what could be improved and has the stamina to work toward that goal.

Scorpio Mars is the “rags to riches” type. They start with nothing, but they can see potential in what others view as broken. Their intuition and ability to transform situations make them smarter than Aries Mars in some ways. They see what others can’t, and they use their fixed energy to continue working toward that vision.

They also have Pluto’s energy, which grants them incredible resilience. When something breaks or fails, Scorpio Mars rises from the ashes, powered by Pluto’s regenerative force. This resilience is even stronger than Aries Mars because Pluto can endure harsher challenges. Pluto doesn’t just get through tough situations—it transforms them.

As Scorpio Mars ages, they begin to notice that things others have given up on, or neglected, are the very things they’ve transformed into something greater. By the time Scorpio Mars is older, they have profited and thrived from opportunities that others overlooked.

Scorpio, being a water sign, brings intuition to the action-oriented Mars energy. Mars is instinctive, while Pluto’s energy is intuitive, allowing Scorpio Mars to make decisions quickly. They don’t need to overthink because they trust their intuition, which often leads them to success. This combination of Mars’ action and Pluto’s depth makes Scorpio Mars incredibly powerful.

In summary, Scorpio Mars is a placement of transformation and power. Mars loves Mars, and Pluto’s energy makes it even stronger, adding depth and resilience. Scorpio Mars has the ability to endure, transform, and achieve success through their intuition and unyielding determination.

Sagittarius Mars

Now, let’s talk about Sagittarius Mars. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of expansion, abundance, higher learning, and beliefs. But does Mars really care about beliefs or philosophy? Not at all. Does Mars care about higher learning? No. What Mars does care about is the energy of Sagittarius. Jupiter is all about expansion and abundance, and when it meets Mars, Jupiter makes Mars feel like it can work for more—more energy, more results, more success. This creates a sense of greed in Sagittarius Mars, making it feel like it can keep pushing for more, building stamina in the process.

Additionally, Sagittarius is a fire sign, and fire signs are action-oriented. When Mars is in a fire sign, it feels lit up and encouraged to take action, so Mars actually doesn’t do too bad in this placement. It’s not the worst position for Mars, but there are some challenges. Let me explain why Sagittarius Mars also isn’t the best placement for Mars.

As I mentioned, Jupiter is abundant, optimistic, and always looking toward the future. It overextends itself and tends to be overly hopeful. When this energy is placed in Mars, a doer and worker by nature, Mars becomes prone to overworking itself. Sagittarius Mars can overexert its energy in pursuit of action, and the combination of Jupiter’s optimism and Mars’ drive can lead to burnout. Sagittarius Mars tends to keep going, pushing forward without realizing it until they crash. This overexertion is a downside of having both Mars and Jupiter in one placement—Mars wants to work, but Jupiter’s energy encourages overdoing things without grounding or realism.

Another issue arises because Jupiter represents freedom, and Mars is all about action. Mars is not like Saturn, where discipline and hard work are the focus. Mars likes to get things done, but Sagittarius, being ruled by Jupiter, can often prioritize freedom and fun over hard work. Sagittarius Mars can be impulsive and abandon its drive for action when it finds something more enjoyable or adventurous.

Sagittarius Mars is mutable energy, which means it’s constantly moving, exploring, and looking for new experiences. It doesn’t like to stay in one place or focus on one task for too long. This lack of focus means that, while Sagittarius Mars is action-oriented, it may abandon the task at hand in favor of pursuing something more exciting, fun, or liberating.

Sagittarius Mars tends to split its energy: half the time, it’s burning through action, overexerting itself in the process; the other half, it’s seeking freedom and excitement, abandoning work to explore new ideas or enjoy life. This creates a 50-50 balance where Sagittarius Mars is both productive and lazy, depending on where their curiosity or desire for adventure takes them.

Overall, this is not a bad placement for Mars, but it’s a bit of a split energy. Sagittarius Mars is better than some placements like Earth or Water signs, as it brings action, but it’s also prone to distractions and overexertion. The key challenge is balancing the desire for action with the need for freedom and exploration.

Capricorn Mars

Capricorn Mars is a great position for Mars because Saturn, which rules Capricorn, is all about hard work, and Mars is all about action. Saturn’s influence means that Capricorn Mars is willing to put in the work necessary to take action. People with Capricorn Mars succeed far greater than other signs because they’re willing to do the hard work that others shy away from.

Unlike the Air Mars signs, who often want to facilitate, convey ideas, or translate thoughts, Capricorn Mars wants to get their hands dirty, dig in, and do the work. With Saturn’s influence, Capricorn Mars has the strength and endurance to push through any obstacle, giving them the longevity needed to reach their goals. They have the discipline and focus to achieve results.

Capricorn Mars is in a powerful position because Saturn loves discipline, and Mars is action-oriented. Saturn’s influence brings structure and focus to Mars’ energy, ensuring that it’s not scattered or impulsive. Instead, Capricorn Mars has a clear plan, a solid strategy, and a well-thought-out approach to materializing their goals. They use tried-and-true methods to turn their desires into reality, rather than relying solely on intuition or instinct.

Not only does Capricorn Mars take action, but they also do the dirty work that others might avoid. Just like the Capricorn sign, which is known for ambition, Capricorn Mars is decisive and knows exactly what they want. When they take action, they do so with purpose and drive. They can execute much faster than someone who is indecisive or overly emotional, as they know what they want and are focused on achieving it.

Saturn’s influence also teaches Capricorn Mars to take their time and understand that obstacles will come. Having the foresight to recognize potential challenges means they have the endurance to face them and still succeed. Capricorn Mars is methodical, patient, and determined to reach their goals, even if it takes longer than expected.

This makes Capricorn Mars an excellent placement for both work and action. Capricorn Mars doesn’t get caught up in emotions or overthinking. They focus on the facts and truth of the situation and take action based on that. They’re pragmatic and clear-sighted, working with what is in front of them—right or wrong—without getting lost in feelings or excessive analysis.

Capricorn Mars has a clear, steady approach to life, hitting milestones and achieving goals, even if it takes longer than others. Think of Capricorn Mars as someone who can go through years of schooling to become a doctor. Yes, an Aries Mars might make money quickly or lose weight rapidly, but Capricorn Mars is in it for the long haul. By the time they reach their goal, they are not only highly skilled but also financially secure in a sustainable way.

While an Aries Mars can achieve fast, short-term results—like earning money or achieving a quick transformation—Capricorn Mars is about long-term sustainability. An Aries Mars may make money quickly, only to lose it, or might shed weight fast but struggle to keep it off. In contrast, Capricorn Mars thinks ahead, planning for the future and building solid foundations for long-term success.

Thirty years from now, the payoff for Capricorn Mars will be immense, as they’ve built something lasting and sustainable. This is how Capricorn Mars operates—they don’t rush. They think about stability, longevity, and how their actions today will pay off in the future. They don’t force this process; it’s a natural way of working that ensures lasting results.

Aquarius Mars

Aquarius Mars brings a lot of goodness to the Mars energy. It introduces innovation, progressive ideas, and a future-oriented focus. Aquarius is great at facilitating change and progress, especially with an eye toward the future. In this position, Aquarius Mars helps the action-oriented Fire Mars take action and seize the moment through initiatives that benefit the long term or create a more cohesive, humanitarian society. They excel at organizing groups of people to work toward a collective goal and can guide others to take action toward creating positive change.

However, the downside of Aquarius Mars, which sometimes makes it a less effective Mars placement, is the rebellious and chaotic energy of Uranus, which rules Aquarius. Uranus brings abrupt changes that people may not always understand. It’s often focused on big dreams and ideals, which can be far-fetched and impractical. These ideals focus on the potential for success, but sometimes they don’t account for the practical steps needed to achieve it.

Because of this, Aquarius Mars can sometimes clash with others when it comes to their ideas or when trying to get others to act on them. Their ideas, though progressive, can be too disruptive or unconventional, leading to disagreements or friction within a group. It can take time for Aquarius Mars to find like-minded individuals who align with their vision and can help bring their ideas to fruition.

When it comes to decision-making, Aquarius Mars is good at making decisions about the future, but not as effective when it comes to the present. They are less interested in the mundane, day-to-day tasks or the practical details of life. These tasks don’t capture their attention. As a result, they might struggle to make decisions that require focus on the here and now. They’re more adept at communicating ideas and getting others to act on them, but actually taking action themselves can be challenging. Like other air Mars placements, Aquarius Mars may prefer to let others do the hard work while they contribute their ideas and vision.

Aquarius Mars can also struggle with making realistic, tangible decisions for the present. They tend to get caught up in their lofty, future-oriented goals, which can make them detached from what needs to be done in the moment. This detachment can cause them to neglect the practical actions needed for their own life, focusing more on larger, collective goals.

Moreover, Aquarius Mars is more focused on groups, social circles, and communities than on the individual. Their drive to take action is often geared toward collective causes, which can make it difficult for them to make decisions for their personal life. For example, they may struggle to make decisions regarding their personal relationships or daily routines because they’re more focused on their contribution to a larger, overarching purpose.

In the process, Aquarius Mars may shift their energy away from their own personal goals in favor of collective goals, sometimes causing them to lose track of what’s necessary for their own growth. This can lead to actions that may not be as functional or grounded in practicality. Their focus on the future, while valuable, may result in decisions that don’t necessarily pay off in the present moment.

Ultimately, Aquarius Mars can lack the functionality needed for practical decision-making. While their future-oriented ideas may pay off in some cases, they can also fail to produce results if not properly grounded in the present.

Pisces Mars

When we talk about Pisces Mars, we’re discussing a watery, elusive energy in the position of action. Mars, with its fiery, action-oriented energy, doesn’t align well with the water element. Water puts out fire, and while Mars wants to take action, the water from Pisces slows it down. Pisces Mars is more focused on emotions than on taking action. It’s caught up in the realm of imagination, sensitivity, and feeling, making it difficult to act.

Mars energy is too aggressive, direct, and passionate for Pisces Mars. Pisces prefers soft, subtle actions. They’re focused on their imagination and want to manifest their dreams and visions into reality. These are the true dreamers—not doers. Pisces Mars envisions everything they want out of life, but they struggle to make those dreams a reality. Why? Because they’re caught up in the passivity, subtlety, and emotional essence of their energy. The harshness of Mars pulls them away from their true nature, causing them to internalize too much.

Pisces Mars is a visionary, but their vivid imagination sometimes prevents them from taking action. The water energy of Pisces makes decisions based on feelings, not just action. Pisces Mars tends to feel out what they can do, and as a result, their dreams are often watered down by self-doubt or a lack of belief in their ability to follow through.

Pisces is a passive sign, a lover who doesn’t like aggression or harshness. They prefer calm and serenity, and taking action can feel too intense for them. It requires too much energy, and it’s not aligned with the peaceful energy they crave. Pisces Mars struggles with the mechanical, action-oriented nature of Mars, and may find it difficult to execute their dreams and make them real.

This makes Pisces Mars a challenging placement because they often just dream and envision but struggle to accomplish or do anything. Pisces Mars is highly sensitive, so any form of aggression, hardship, or rigidity—qualities inherent in Mars—will cause them to retreat. They may become introverted, withdraw into themselves, and shy away from the demands of the outside world. Mars’ direct energy doesn’t know how to deal with Neptune’s elusive, intangible qualities, and Pisces, ruled by Neptune, can’t easily channel Mars’ aggressive energy into concrete actions.

Furthermore, Pisces is ruled by Jupiter, and being a mutable sign, Pisces often flows through different stages and places in life. This makes it hard for Pisces Mars to focus on one task or goal. The mutable energy of Pisces doesn’t lend itself well to a constant, decisive course of action. Pisces Mars often craves freedom and choice, avoiding grounding themselves in any one thing for too long. Taking action can feel too rigid and confining, as Pisces just wants to explore, have options, and enjoy life on their terms.

This is the type of person who struggles to take things seriously, or to assert themselves and their ambitions. Pisces Mars may find themselves retreating into their imagination rather than stepping forward and actively pursuing their desires.

The combination of Pisces’ elusive energy with Mars’ direct energy makes it difficult for Pisces Mars to gain clarity. The lines between action and inaction blur, making it hard for them to pin down their direction. This confusion ultimately makes it harder for Pisces Mars to take decisive action in their life, further delaying their ability to turn their dreams into reality.

[deathsmallcaps]

Cool Yue & Sokka fic concept: the moon helped Yue live, and the Ocean helped Sokka. Neither had powers or, once born, knew who each other were. But both hold incredible meaning to their respective peoples, as symbols of survival, luck & spirit.

(Arguably you could make this a reincarnation romance/soulmates thing but I wasn’t envisioning that when I thought this up)

[waywardsalt]

with my phantom hourglass replay, there are two things i noticed;

a possible theme you could glean from the game is action vs inaction, and i think it's especially prevalent before you even leave mercay the first time, with oshus frequently urging link to not go after the ghost ship, then to just wait until the broken bridge is fixed, and seems reluctant at every turn while link and ciela are more than eager to go and do something about this problem, and the people of mercay in general talking about things and their problems but never seeming to act on their fears or desires, as well as the mention that due to the ghost ship, very very few people are still sailing around, while linebeck is one of the only people we see in the game actively going after the ghost ship and still sailing around. i might make a longer post just talking more about the action vs inaction in phantom hourglass but i just noticed it a bit and thought it was a bit of an interesting sort of theme you could find in the game.

linebeck moves so fucking much. i think he moves more than any npc in the rest of the game. not just in his intro cutscene where he is very animated, just in how much he moves when just standing in his little idle post, it's damn near distracting when the camera is focused on him, he moves a lot. i don't think i've really acknowledged how much he moves, and it really gives the impression that he's antsy or eager to get going, both of which fit him pretty well with how he acts.

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[birlwrites]

5 times evan tried to ask regulus on a date and 1 time regulus brilliantly figured out that he meant it romantically

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

we ran into that dude that was smashing his bugged cars and wasting our time. he's like "my gun is rusted, how do I fix it?" one dude I'm with is like "I have a gun cleaner" first guy is like "where do u buy it" "I stole it off someone, idk" so someone is like "well anyway u wanna come w us to do xyz" and he's like "nah I'm gonna go buy gun cleaner"

[thydungeongal]

GMing doesn't have to be a chore and can in fact be extremely fun and rewarding but there are certain learned behaviors and attitudes that make things harder on the GM. Here are just a few tips on how to make the job easier on the GM which also may have the side effect of making the game more fun for everyone:

Everyone should make an effort to learn the rules. The rules are not there to make the game unfun and they are not a necessary evil, they are there to help carry the game so the group doesn't have to do all the work. And everyone taking part in learning the rules means the GM doesn't always have to be the one to remember how a rule works.

To that end, drop the "GM is the final word on the rules" attitude. This places the GM on a pedestal and can actually run counter to the idea of players learning the rules. If the GM has carte blanche to run over the rules it disincentivices players learning the rules because they can't actually rely on the text, and now you're right back to the GM having to carry the whole game. It is entirely okay for players to remind the GM how the rules should work and the group should agree on a method for dealing with rules disputes, and spot rulings should not rely on the GM making a unilateral decision but should rely on some kind of consensus.

Communicate your desires to the group and be willing to compromise; respect each other's prep. You may want a game that focuses on a long-form narrative but the GM wants to run an episodic series of largely unrelated singleton adventures. The GM is the one who is bringing the game, so ultimately be willing to compromise on your vision of the game and respect their prep. Ultimately, if the GM does not want to run the exact type of game you want and you can't see yourself having fun in the type of game they want to run, you will be doing everyone a favor by recusing yourself from the game.

Related to the above, communicating your desires should be an ongoing process. End each session by talking about what you want to do next and where you think the game should go. This will also make it easier for the GM to prep ahead.

This relates to learning the rules: pick a game that actually supports the type of game you want to run. Trust me, whatever time you think you will save by sticking to a game you already know you will make back by not having to fight the rules all the time and actually letting the rules take an active part in carrying the game.

You can literally just use prewritten adventures. Not every campaign or adventure needs to be custom-tailored for your specific group. Using prewritten adventures means that someone's already done a lot of the prep for you.

And finally, don't prep any more than you need to: there is this persistent myth that GMs need to have the entire campaign and world planned from the word go to begin with. While there is nothing wrong with expansive worldbuilding as such, you don't need to prep anything beyond what is strictly necessary. If you're running a wide open sandbox you can get by with a rough sketch of the world and only write things in as they become relevant. If you're running a megadungeon your players don't have to know that you've only prepared the first level for the first session, as long as you have a cohesive broad strokes plan that is perfectly fine. If you're running an episodic campaign, well, you don't need to have anything beyond the next episode prepped at a time, but of course having a rough plan can help.

Of course a lot of this is very opinionated and game specific: some games actively resist authoritative GM prep and want to involve each player equally in setting up the situation, and that's actually great, and in those types of games you should remember that the game is explicitly telling everyone to be involved in the prep. And once again, listen to what the rules have to say: they're there to tell you what the game wants you to do.

[yieldtotemptation]

ANACHRONISM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part one of strange currencies

14k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like any of this happened by accident.

Like you totally didn’t mean to charm some poor, pretty little thing; dazzle her with the wealth, the fame, the you of it all.

Have her spreading her legs for you, bunching her dress up over her thighs, serving herself up like she’s one of those ludicrously expensive banquets you frequent, pleading—

"God, I need you inside me, like, right this fucking second."

Because here’s the truth of it all, what you’ve come to realise about this woman who has never once in her entire life been reduced to something as pithy as poor or pretty or little; let alone anything short of extraordinary. This wildly successful, elegant to the point of being untouchable, and just really, really fucking gorgeous idol:

Nothing about Myoui Mina is accidental.

Even all this—her idea: showing up at your suite uninvited, leaning against the doorframe, panties hanging off her fingertips. Showing off how ridiculously drenched she is for you and how badly she wants you to do something about it.

If only these walls could talk.

“Hurry up,” she’s gritting out. Deadlocking the door behind her. Still not used to waiting for anything, apparently. “Come on, I need your cum. Anywhere you like. Just inside me. Now.”

You should be more surprised. Instead, you’re laughing. “Patience, darling.”

A step forward, pants hitting the floor, cock in hand. Running the tip of it across her folds, making it shiny with her slick, forcing this sigh from her lips.

You pause, just to make her whine. To make her give you what you really want to hear.

Mina bites her lip.

Squeezes her eyes shut.

She knows the deal.

"Please."

That word, that crack in the composure, the control that Mina is so used to maintaining everywhere else but here. It’s the thrill of it all—the challenge in the attempt. Taking someone like Mina, all perfect posture, sparkling teeth, effortless grace; and bringing her to her knees.

Figuratively speaking, mostly.

Only, her phone lights up.

You look down and see it, left abandoned on the floor somewhere in Mina’s rush to get to you. But now its glow is stark against the dark parquet, beaming with messages by the dozen. All different variations on the same question: where the fuck is she?

Her eyes flicker to the screen, then back up to yours. There's a silent conversation happening there—desire fighting with duty, lust with loyalty.

You make it easy for her.

A push is all it takes, really. Cunt yielding to your will, cock sliding into that ridiculous tightness.

She freezes.

Braces herself.

Whimpers.

“Priorities, Mina,” you grunt through it, breaching in deeper; assaulted by the heat of her cunt around you, choking each inch. “Remember, you asked for this.”

The phone keeps buzzing, panicked vibrations at your feet. Urgent messages becoming calls, flashing faces across the screen. You can see them one-by-one, see Mina’s reaction as they pop up—sighing when she sees her managers name, eyes widening when a rather flirty photo of Chaeyoung comes next, and then her entire body tensing, tightening around you at the next picture:

Her and her boyfriend, arms thrown around each other, both looking all beautiful and famous and so very much in love. The perfect couple; so picturesque it might as well have come right off a billboard.

“God, fuck,” Mina groans out, panting, breathless. “You’d think they’d—ah—just leave me alone for one—single—night—”

“Should we snap some photos? Add them all to a group chat, send them through? Let them see the look on your face and figure it out from there.” 

Mischief flashes across her eyes, mouth open to answer back with something that is no doubt clever and suggestive and designed to get you both into far more trouble than you’re already in—but she doesn’t get a word of it out.

You’re slamming into her.

Mina nearly comes apart then and there; eyes snapping shut, neck arching, back banging against the hard, unforgiving wood of the door behind her. Her lips round into this perfect ‘O’ of surprise, and this sweet, sweet needy whine comes slipping out from her throat.

And just like that, she’s all yours again. 

It’s not like the phone goes silent—it just stops mattering.

“Asshole,” she’s saying—grinning now, doing that Mina thing where she says one thing but means another, expecting you to read the underneath. Which this time is—touch me, pull me close, pin me and keep me fucking trapped while you fuck the air right out of my lungs.

“Now there’s an idea.” You’re kissing her, tongue past her lips, tasting the rush of the forbidden, the lines she’s crossing just so she can have you filling up her cunt.

And there’s all this noise—the sound of your cock thrusting into her, skin against skin, shaft into wetness; the buzzing of the phone, her cries of your name dying in your mouth.

Oh, you know it’s going to be brutal if anyone was to overhear, if you’re caught and all this gets out. The narratives that will be crafted, the cliché of it all, the sizzling hot headlines that will undoubtedly paint her, as they are wont to do, in a million different unfair ways.

Seductress. Gold-digger. Slut.

But even as you’re fucking her deep, lips marking up her skin, digging your fingers into the meat of her ass and making Mina cum so hard that all she can say is— “please, please, please,”

—you know the facts, no matter who’s begging who under the shine of the outrageously garish chandelier hanging overhead:

You're the one that chased her first.

—

(It’s incredibly fitting that this whole thing started with a celebration.)

—

Taking a step back, to months earlier, at a gala:

Where it’s becoming apparent to you, and seemingly, just you, that Mina’s the only one here that doesn’t look entirely out of place.

Or at least, she’s the only one that seems to fit amongst the grandeur; the imposing pillars and archways, the ornate cornices, the glint of gold and jade beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the shadow of the palace itself, cast over the sprawling garden like a looming guardian.

The anachronism of it all is the concept, or so you’ve been told. The new, the future—your company—against the backdrop of the old, the traditional. A fusion event, meant to celebrate and honour the past right before yanking it to the future; and yet it all somehow feels so…

Boring.

The same faces, the same games; sharks in a sea of corporate sabotage and political machinations. They’ll smile for you, sing your praises to the highest heavens, do everything they can to make you remember their name—right up until the moment you show your back.

All this to say, it’s going to be very hard to last four hours without wanting to punch someone in the face just to make things slightly more interesting.

(Oh come, one and all. Throw yourselves at the feet of Korea’s youngest self-made billionaire, and hope that by some stroke of luck or misplaced charm, you might just catch a crumb from his table.

That’s what this whole exhausting circus feels like to you.)

So, when you’re about done with what seems like the hundredth round of fake laughs and vacuous pleasantries with yet another politician who’s trying to sell you on the importance of family, and coincidentally, his very marriageable daughter, you make your escape.

Something about needing a drink.

Ease out of the circle, let the noise of the gala swallow you up like you were never there, and navigate across the garden to the bar.

Where you find her.

Mina, something of an anachronism herself; looking more at home amongst the pagodas and the cherry blossoms than in the company of suits and ties and plastic smiles. Like she’s been painted onto the scene; rendered in living colour—stark white, midnight black, blue silk. Or cobalt. Maybe azure.

You’ll have to reserve some time later to ask her about the colour of her dress.  

What’s important is that she’s alone, which seems like a crime in and of itself, on account of, well, how fucking breathtaking she is. Add that she’s here at all, and it all amounts to some kind of serendipitous miracle.

(An idol, a celebrity, willingly spending her free time in the company of the elitist dregs of society? The world's gone mad.)

You don’t really need an excuse to join her; you know her, technically. Not intimately, but in that same way that everyone in this high society tapestry is threaded together. An award show here, a charity function there—the kind of acquaintance that lets you say hello without raising eyebrows, but not much more.

All this to say it makes some sense to slide yourself onto the barstool to her right, ignoring that the rest are completely unoccupied.

The smile that Mina gives you as you approach is a little sharper than it needs to be, a little too knowing.

“You’re not going to ask if this seat’s taken?”

You return the smile, a mirror image of hers, and lean onto the bar. You don’t even need to look at the bartender; your drink is in your hand, cold and crisp, the second you set it down. “I thought I’d risk it.”

“Neat trick,” Mina says, posting her chin on one hand, watching the sleek liquid slide down your throat. She’s got a flute of champagne in front of her, untouched.

There’s a gravity to her, you’re realising only when you’re this close. Something in the way the moonlight's kissing her skin, a blend of porcelain and peaches, glowing. Maybe that’s why she’s been left alone; the other guests were smart enough not to get swallowed up in it all. Better to appreciate at a distance than to drown in it.

She regards you for a beat, runs a finger around the rim of her glass. "Shouldn't you be off being the centre of attention somewhere? Shaking hands, kissing babies, that whole bag?”

“Nah," you’re dismissive, looking back out to the crowd milling about, lost in their own conversations and power plays. "This whole thing's more for them than it is for me."

Mina scoffs. Raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. You follow her eyes—across the banners, the placards, the giant projection cast onto the palace itself.

A brushstroke circle—the logo you designed—swirling around, stamping itself on what was once a symbol of absolute power, now reduced to just another stage for the rich and the elite and all their insignificant little games.

You feel the need to clarify. “For the company.”

Mina ripostes. “That just so happens to be named after you.”

“Just one of those funny coincidences.”

“Apparently so.”

It does occur to you that it should be somewhat startling how instantly familiar you feel around Mina. Slipping into casual conversation—light jabs, coded compliments; all soaked in insinuation. Just enough edge and implication to keep you on your toes.

There's an ease to her, to how she smiles, how she laughs, how she just sits there, all drop-dead gorgeous and oh, this? Nothing special, just how I always am.

So it’s only natural that somewhere in all this easy banter, between your third drink and her second, her hand lands on your forearm, your knee brushes against hers and you both decide to stop being so subtle.

You pick your moment, as she’s thumbing through a menu of drinks she’s already deciding she doesn’t want, to try to solve the mystery of her. Past the red of her lips, the edge of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Along the neckline of her dress, where the silk clings like it’s afraid of letting go, and down to where it dips and angles out; the open shoulder, the collarbone, the swell underneath.

It’s the sum of it all, you’re realising. The dress, the look, the woman.

(Accentuate without revealing. Tease without giving away the prize. Show off that flawless ass and dare the world not to look. And yeah, they fucking look. They all do.

You’re just the only one that doesn’t look away when you're caught.)

But now, you could reach out and touch her; unlatch the straps of her heels, run your fingers from her ankle up, up over the smooth expanse of her calf, her knee, the bare skin of her thigh right where her dress decides to daringly split, and underneath, until your hand is filled with the heat of her and all she knows is you.

You could complete her. Or she, you, you think.

Only, there’s a slight misstep in an otherwise immaculate ensemble.

A necklace.

A ridiculous, ugly, tacky thing. Hanging off her like a misplaced jewel on a swan; more ‘costume party’ than ‘refined modern gala’. Fighting the simplicity of her gown, offensively jarring, especially against the serenity of the moonlit garden.

Mina notices you staring. “A gift.”

“Boyfriend,” you realise, doing the math in your head. A careless present, given by someone who doesn’t know (or doesn’t care to know) her. Hoping the flash, the dollars spent overshadows the unfamiliarity.

(It doesn’t.)

“Partner,” Mina confirms. There’s a slight dip at the corner of her mouth, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of something unpleasant. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you caught it. “A little too old to have a boyfriend.”

“Hm.” You click your tongue. Narrow your eyes. You’ve been told that it makes you appear disarming. “And where is this partner?”

Mina’s smile returns. She takes her first sip of champagne. “You tell me. Don’t you sign off on all the invites?”

“Just the important ones.”

“Even so, not like he would have come if he was invited.” Mina leaves you to fill in the gaps. “A tad too public. For the both of us, really.”

“I see.”

And you do. You’ve seen your fair share of these types of arrangements, participated in a few, even. At the beginning, the secret of it all, the cloak and dagger; it’s exhilarating. But that only lasts so long. Eventually, like all things, it fades. Leaving you with someone who you don’t really see, who you don’t even know, and the sinking realisation that maybe the thrill was the only thing that kept it interesting. 

“So,” you lean forward, drawing your conclusion. “You’re here. All alone. Stuck in a relationship with someone dumb enough to let you go out looking like that.”

“Careful.”

“It’s just,” you offer, your gaze lingering on her throat, “You don’t strike me as the type to settle for anything less than you deserve, Mina.”

That makes Mina pause. Almost flinch. Imperceptibly if you weren’t looking so closely at her lips. The sound of her name rolling off your tongue, like it's always been there, waiting to escape—it has her reeling.

And yet, somehow, she recovers.

“Because you know me so well.”

So, you switch up, throw a curveball. “Is it the sex?”

To her credit, Mina barely reacts to that provocation, as if she was expecting the follow up. Just takes another sip of her champagne with a grace that seems rehearsed. You’ll have to try harder.

She shrugs a bare shoulder.

"Sex is just sex. It’s not everything."

“So, no sex at all, then.”

Mina’s smile is like a knife’s edge. “Are you always this forward?”

“All I’m saying,” you keep going, somewhat emboldened by the game, by the warmth of the whiskey poisoning your kidneys. “If it was me—”

Mina’s hand slides up your forearm, ending somewhere around your triceps. You’re close. Close enough to inhale her perfume; cinnamon, smoke, darker than anticipated. You’d fill your lungs with it, if you could. “If it was you.”

You take another drink. She watches.

And it clicks into place. What this really is. What she’s really doing here.

The slight tilt of her shoulder, a slip of her dress—just a fraction. A shift in her seat and suddenly, the silk has risen, too high, and there’s a stretch of skin leading up to a flash of lace that’s more moonlit than the night itself.

The suspicion sets in. Was she waiting for you?

Mina laughs.

You ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” Mina says, lowly. Grinning, like she’s reading your mind. “How even you’re the same.”

“How so?”

“All you men. How you see me, how you’re looking at me right now.” She reaches up to her neck, taps the clunky stone hovering over her throat. Once. Twice. “Making it about you. You think I need saving.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open once more to protest—

“That’s what you think.” Mina interrupts, smirks; and your eyes are on her lips, wondering if anyone would be able to pull you off them if you were so lucky enough to taste them. “What you want is to own me.”

“Mina,” you regard her, openly. Honestly. “I could never dream of owning you.”

She nods back towards your logo, emblazoned across the castle walls. “Because you’re clearly not the type of person that likes owning things.”

And there’s a realisation here, as she’s staring into your eyes—a real, actual, bone-deep revelation—that she's been doing the same thing as you this whole time. Reading you, until she's seeing through you.

The silence stretches, thick and sweet , and it’s obvious to see where this is heading. The idea that’s being sparked—lean in, kiss her right here, right now, with all these eyes on you. Kiss that smirk right off her face, steal whatever clever rebuttals she’s composing from her lips, the flirtations that she’s left hanging in the air. Replace them all with your name.

But it’s all hypothetical, for now.

“You’re not even thinking past right now, are you?” Mina asks, amused. "The rumours you've started just by sitting next to me."

"Rumours."

"The kind that ruins careers. That never leave. That would make him want to kill you if he found out."

Another sip, letting it burn down your throat. Think about it. Attack it from every angle—

(Doesn’t it just make sense; the billionaire, and his beautiful celebrity partner? Or even if there was a scandal, just a one-night fling; wouldn’t it be worth it?

You could both live off the thrill alone, it’d reignite whatever embers her boyfriend hasn’t stomped out yet.)

“Maybe I want the rumours.”

Mina’s eyes widen. It’s the first time she’s dropped her guard.

“If you were mine,” you start, and stop immediately, reining in that last word on the tip of your tongue. “If you were my girlfriend, partner, whatever label you want to put on it. I’d tell the whole damn world. Broadcast it on every channel. Make sure everyone knows exactly who I’m fucking every single morning, afternoon, night.”

You’re hitting the mark of something, you can tell, because Mina’s hand tightens around your arm, and she doesn't seem to mind when yours lands on her thigh. A flash; the thought of spreading them, of seeing her laid bare underneath you. Or flipped over in front of you, crumpling that dress around her waist, so you can take proper purchase of that ass that’s been hinted at all night long.

And all of a sudden, she doesn't seem to be as spoken for as she might have led you to believe.

She bites her lip. Keeps it there for a second, two, before letting it go.

“So, this is what you usually say to all the pretty girls you invite to these parties?”

The alcohol’s loosened your tongue enough to state truths you’re supposed to keep to yourself. “I usually don’t have to say anything at all.”

Mina challenges. “Must be nice, being this rich, cute, and charming.”

“The being rich part does a lot of the hard work.”

“So, the cuteness and the charm?”

“I’ll let you decide,” you finish, watching her smile spread, the corners of her eyes crinkle. It makes your chest tighten.

“I suppose, in your perfect world,” Mina surmises, and now she’s so close that your knee is splitting the difference between her thighs, and you’re already planning the logistics of it all—the where, the how— “this ends with you fucking my brains out behind one of these old houses.”

“I’ve got a few in mind.”

“I bet.” Mina takes one last pull of her drink, empties it, and sets it back down. “And afterwards? After you’ve made me forget my own name and made the entirety of my existence revolve around your cock—what’s your plan then? Who are we—who are you going to be?"

You finish off your own glass, setting it down with the same deliberate clink as hers. “You know, the funny thing about money is," you say, sliding your fingers up her thigh, higher, higher. "It can make you whoever you want to be. So, the real question is—who do you want me to be?"

You’re holding your breath as she answers: “Not some knight in shining armour. I don’t need a saviour. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what do you need?”

Mina inches, gets close, and now her breath’s a tickle on the shell of your ear. She bites. “Just someone to help me scratch an itch.”

There’s a moment, somewhere before Mina threads her fingers through yours, lets you lead her through the throngs of guests and into the shadows of the palace; where all of this—this want, this need, boils over. Where Mina kisses your cheek and warns:

“You don’t have the time for me.”

Now it’s your turn to grin; reaching up to her throat, slipping that necklace off her, leaving it to clatter onto the granite below never to be spoken of again.

“Maybe. But I can make every second count.”

—

This is how you end up:

Pinning Mina to some ancient wall; the moon’s spotlight spilling over the contours of her body, a hand tangled in her hair, the other pushing her dress higher up her thighs.

You weren’t lying, you did have a place in mind. Namely, by the west gate, where a house that used to be the servant’s quarters stood. It’s a part of the palace that’s been neglected in the reconstruction, and thus, ironically, the most authentic part of this whole sham.

A true hideaway for those not to be seen or heard; a building that’s seen centuries of service, of lives lived in the shadow of royalty, and now it’s going to bear witness to this, to you and Mina, undoing each other with every passing second.

Something a little sacred, a whole lot profane.

She’s smiling against your lips; a smirk, more likely. Because she’s new to this kind of thing—the almost romantic picture the two of you are painting—chaste kisses stolen in quiet corners of royal residences. The kind of thing that could fuel a dozen dramas.

But you both know better.

So, you let her start things off, let her set the pace for this evening's affairs. And Mina, to her credit, is gracious enough to tell you exactly what she wants.

(Kiss me harder, touch me here, please, please, don't let go.)

Twisting the lapels of your jacket in her hand, desperately pulling you closer, even though there's no more room left. Kissing you with longing. Making you believe that she's missed this—missed you—despite the fact that you've only just officially met. And sure, it's a lie, but it's a lie that feels so good, so right, that you’re willing to indulge her.

Indulge yourself.

Your lips veer off the corner of her mouth, ignoring the tongue and teeth that try to keep you there, the hand that kindly urges you to not stop kissing her.

Because you’ve got a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down the seconds before someone calls you or her away, or more problematically, catches you and her, a heap of limbs and lust and fucking in the dusty archives of history.

You break away, keep things moving, kiss your way along her neck, feel her heartbeat drum against your lips. Follow her neckline down, down; find this sweet little spot, a darkened freckle right on top of her collarbone that makes her sigh.

“Tell me something, honestly.” Mina finds her voice the same time your fingers meet the promised lace of her underwear, turning her words into these breathless moans. “How often do you do this?”

You tug the fabric pooling at her waist—once, firmly—and Mina’s dress slips from her shoulders, whispering down her arms and leaving her in nothing but flawless white and a strapless bra that matches the silk in hue. 

You smile, look up. “This?”

Mina clarifies, "Whisk some innocent girl away into a deserted corner and—"

She’s cut off by the click-clack of her bra releasing behind her back, your fingers slipping beneath the cotton, and you’re filling your hand with the swell of her breast; so soft, so perfect.

The sound when you touch her and she gasps; if only you could capture, keep it forever. You’ll just have to make sure she keeps making it—kneading gently, rolling the pebbled peak of her nipple between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it bead and tighten.

Your lips to her shoulder, you ask, “And what?”

Mina sighs, “fuck her completely, thoroughly senseless,” and you swear there’s something revelatory about how she says it—sinful ideas from saintly lips.

"Honestly?" You pause, your gaze lingering on the goosebumps rising across her skin. "You're the first."

Her laughter's a surprise; it's light, disbelieving. "First?"

"First tonight."

Mina's smile widens, her grip on your jacket tightens. "You're so full of shit," she says, but there's no malice in it. Just the thrill of the hunt. Or, being hunted.

You don’t bother to argue the point; let her think what she wants. Instead, you lean into it (into her), let your other hand snake around her thigh, over the elastic of her panties and lower, until you’re palming the curve of her ass.

Firm, taut, flawless—because of course it is; exactly like the rest of her. She’s so hot under your touch; the softness, the smoothness of it. And you know—without a doubt—you’re going to worship this ass.

A squeeze for good measure—balancing the fine line of respect and greed. Mina yelps—surprise, pleasure.

“God,” Mina shudders, does her best under the assault of your lips on her neck, fingers pinching, tugging, hand squeezing. "You're—oh, you're not so bad at this."

You press a kiss to her throat. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Miss Myoui.”

“Please, not with the government names,” Mina hisses, her cheeks flushing a soft pink that matches the glow of the lanterns outside.

“Apologies.” You chuckle, slipping your hand underneath the band of her panties, and around—down—pressing against her and sinking lower until you’ve got a proper hold of her. Soaking wet and dripping heat onto your fingertips.

A cry from her lips. A shiver. A buck of her hips.

Her hands shoot to your chest.

“Please, kiss me again.”

You oblige—how could you not, with the way she’s begging?

Her nails dig into your shirt, her breath hitches as you push your finger—your index—past her entrance and inside, and just before she can moan your name into the night air, you’re filling her mouth with your tongue, licking inside.

You kiss her like it’s your first kiss, like it’s your last. Like the only way to calm her down is with your mouth and your tongue and your teeth. She’s so wet and tight and pulsing around you, she’s trying to suck you in; and fuck, when you’re knuckle-deep she bites down on your lip so hard she nearly draws blood.

The moans that she's filling your mouth with; this symphony of want sends a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire straight to your cock. You're straining—against your trousers, against her thigh, straining against the urge to rip that dress off her and leave her bare, but you're not there yet.

It's about her, about needing her, making her beg for it. Making her so desperate that she'll do just about anything to get you inside her.

(Because there’s something about her, about Mina, that just makes you want to take your time. To learn the ins and outs of what makes her tick. The secret spots that make her moan into your mouth, the places to touch that make her shiver, the sighs and sounds that only you can coax out of her.

It’s etched into every line of her body; every curve and sharp edge—just pure heat from head to toe; And there’s a beauty so absolute in her perfection, the dash of makeup, the careful draping of her hair, it’s too good not to ruin. To not want to leave your mark on her in some way so that everyone knows she was once yours, if only for a night.)

“You’re just so needy, Mina.” You hum into her jaw, when your lips slip from hers and you struggle to resist the urge to leave these marks on her. Her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Every part of her that she’s offered to you, every part you’re eager to claim. “Like it’s been ages since someone’s touched you like this.”

“I don’t—please—” is all Mina can manage, because the pad of your thumb is ghosting over her clit, pressing in and circling, and the way her pitch rises and she sighs your name gives you your answer:

It’s been a while.

“I don’t think—gah—” She tries agin, but you torture her with another finger, stretching inside her, sinking in and curling upwards. “I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this.”

“Good,” you tell her, and she shivers when your voice rumbles through her, when you drop down and your lips go low again, and you take one of her stiff peaks between your teeth. “I don’t settle for second place.”

“Neither do—God—I—” Mina braces herself against the wall behind her, failing to find anything but cold brick to hold onto as you map out the rest of her with your hands and your fingers and your lips.

She’s so, so hot for you; you would’ve never predicted it, not in your wildest estimations. Never thought just how easy it would be to undo someone so poised and put-together like Mina, to render her into this puddle of need.

“So why don’t you show me then,” Mina breathes, voice trembling as much as she is. You suck deep, swirl your tongue, make her arch her back to push more of herself into you. “What all the—oh my—what all the fuss is about."

“As you wish, darling.”

And there’s part of you that’s recognising the awfulness of what you’re doing, taking something—someone—that’s not yours, and having her tell you all these things, finger fucking these words of oblivion from her lips, touch me, please I need it, kiss me harder, more, more, make me feel it, make me feel you.

But even that part of you is so, so small right now, buried deep down with everything that isn’t Mina, with everything that isn’t her pussy clenching around your hand, or the taste of tits on your tongue.

Ignore all thoughts of the after, of what happens when you’ve made her cum again and again, and you’ve wrecked yourself in the pursuit of it all. What happens when you return to the throngs of nobodies, all rumpled and flushed and red, and the whispers start flying, and the glances are no longer just knowing but shamelessly envious.

That’s a problem for future you.

Right now, you’ve nearly stripped her entirely, pressed up against a wall that’s seen more than its fair share of secrets, and your two—now three—fingers are ruining her in a way that has her dancing on that borderline.

“I’m close, so close,” Mina cries, but you already know.

Because you’re already giving it to her; everything she wants and then some. Touching her, fucking her with your fingers, pushing her higher, watching her unravel.

Making her whine against your skin, making her eyes squeeze shut like she’s afraid of what’s happening, afraid of how much she wants this.

“We’re only just getting started, Mina.”

You let her nipple pop out from your mouth, leaving it to bob in the cool night air, sensitive and dying to be back between your teeth. Hand shifts from her hip, sliding up to cradle her jaw, to tip her face back—force those deep, dark eyes to open so you can really look at her.

Panting, pupils blown wide, and the sight of her so undone sends another wave of heat straight to your cock.

“Look at me.” It comes out harsher, more of a firm command than intended. It does its job. “You're going to cum now.”

She nods, frantically, eyes locked on yours as your thumb traces over her bottom lip, feeling it plump and swollen from your kisses. Her tongue darts out, swipes over the pad, tasting herself and you; and you’re thinking about filling that mouth of hers, or maybe that cunt, or if she’s game, that tight, untouched little asshole.

But one thing at a time.

“I’m going to eat your pussy,” you’re saying everything you’ve dreamt of saying to her since you first saw her, first caught sight of that ass daring to wander past your line of sight; and suddenly, every raw, filthy thought you’ve had of her is coming to the surface. “Then I’m going to fuck you. Again and again. Your cunt, your mouth. That ass. I’m going to take it all. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, darling?”

Mina breathes, nods, signing a verbal contract to let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, promising you all of her, every part of her you’ve so shamelessly craved.

“Good.”   

And so, you drop to your knees.

You glance up at her. She looks down at you.

Like she’s been burning for this; like she’ll combust if you make her wait a second longer.

Pushing her dress up until it's around her waist, keeping it up with your hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wider. And you’re seeing her pussy, the darkened, plump flesh—bare, wet, begging—and so, so pretty.

Fuck—what kind of guy could resist this?

(The kind that buys her jewellery without knowing the first thing about her. The kind that leaves her to sit alone at a gala like a trophy on a shelf. The kind that doesn’t get to taste her—doesn’t know how.

The kind that’s not you.

And maybe she was right—you do think you could save her.)

“What are you doing?” Mina huffs, impatient.

You smirk, unable to resist the urge to drag this out, to keep her on edge a little longer. "Just appreciating."

Mina's eyes narrow, but the smile never leaves her lips. "Well, appreciate faster."

You don’t need to be told twice.

Take her by the hips, spin her around, make her inhale—sharp. Force her to look away from you, to face the cold, indifferent wall, to brace herself.

“Wait, why—”

“Hold your dress up for me,” you mumble against her thighs.

Mina’s hands obey, holding the silk out of the way; and now she’s bent over, like a fucking present. Letting your eyes drink in her ass; unable to do anything but just stare.

How the moonlight kisses the curve, makes the shadows play against it. So perfect. So round and tight and full. Fruit so ripe you could pluck it from the tree with your teeth.

You’re leaning in, kissing the top of her thighs, right below where her cheeks spill over. Kissing up, a soft press of your lips to one cheek, the other, and fuck Mina’s trembling; barely holding it together, and you’re just getting started.

You drag your nose up, across the cotton of her panties and inhale her deep. Sweet and musky, a fine wine that’s been left to breathe, and she squirms.

Shivers under your breath.

And when Mina sighs something that sounds suspiciously like a warning—because she’s not the type to let you get away with anything like this so easily—you take the band of her underwear with your teeth, feeling the fabric stretch. Thin, delicate, begging to snap.

The panties fall away, down to her ankles. The sound of her heels tapping the ground as she lifts her legs to let it slide off, leaving her bare, vulnerable, and yours.

Mina goes still.

Hands spread her cheeks, and finally, you dive in, tongue first. Swipe along the crevice of her ass, taste the sweetness of her from bottom to top, forcing this gasp from her lips. You’re not shy about it—no room for anything close to it when your nose is pressed up against her asshole—and Mina’s thighs are trembling, muscles in her legs tightening like she’s trying to run away from what’s coming next.

But she won’t. You’ve got her pinned. You’ve got her right where she wants to be.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy, lick from cunt to asshole in one, long slow drag, make her sigh your name like it’s a prayer.

“I can’t believe—I never—no one’s ever—” She’s talking, trying to keep it together, trying to rationalise how something so filthy is making her fall apart in a million different, tremendous ways. But the words break off into moans, pure music to your ears.

“Like that?” You murmur against her skin, words disappearing into her.

“Oh my god, yes,” Mina cries out, a benediction. Her grip tightens on her dress, holding it up like a veil. A fucked-up kind of thing, marrying her cunt to your lips; arousal so potent you’re drowning it.

Because she’s a wreck, been a wreck since the moment you laid a hand on her. And now you just have to keep her there.

You let your tongue slide up and down her slit, teasing the folds, going lower, spreading her legs to lap up her clit until she’s begging for it—until she’s begging for you to push inside, to fuck her with it, to make her scream.

"Enjoy it, enjoy being so messy for me.”

"Oh—oh my God!" Mina cries out as you delve into her, and the sound echoes down empty corridors, bouncing off the walls, taking a grand tour of the palace. “I can’t believe—can’t fucking believe—"

You can't believe it either. That no one else has had the pleasure of tasting, of licking, of dining on this slice of Eden laid out before you. It's a crime against nature, really. A sin that you're more than happy to rectify.

"Fuck, you're so good," Mina voice is strained, her legs buckling under the weight of her own desire, she needs to post one hand onto the wall to not completely collapse into your mouth.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Feeling smug and utterly in control. "It's not rocket science, darling. Just a little bit of appreciation goes a long way."

But you're not just tonguing her ass because it’s there, because it’s what you’re into. You’re doing it because it’s driving her wild, because you know it’s a button that’s been left untouched, unexplored. And there’s something about being the first to do it that makes your cock throb, makes you want to worship not just her ass, but all of her.

Every part of her that's been neglected, overlooked, ignored.

"You have no idea," she breathes, her legs trembling harder now, "How good it feels."

You lean back, just a fraction, looking up at her, the tension coiling up her spine. "Oh, darling," you say, "I do. Believe me, I do."

A kiss into the small of her back, and you slide your finger back into her, once at first. So impossibly wet, stretching so easily for you, welcoming you right back in.

It’s all for you.

And you can’t get enough, so you add another, then another, stretching her even more, making her drench you and moan for you louder and louder.

You’ve figured it out. How to fuck her, lick her, press into her cunt just right. Finding the rhythm, that makes her breath skip and her body tense, that makes her pussy clamp down around your digits.

“Oh, God, oh, oh, oh—yes—right there—right there—” She’s panting, her hips jerking back, meeting every thrust of your fingers and your tongue.

You’re so close to making her cum—so close that you can almost taste it on the air—and she’s begging for it, so sweetly, so desperately.

“Please, please, don’t stop, I’m right there—” Mina’s hand reaches back, tangling in your hair, and she’s pulling you closer, grinding herself against your mouth.

Bury your face between her cheeks, fuck her fast with your fingers. It’s heaven down in the depths of hell; her thighs, her cheeks, her cunt, her ass. So soft, so wet, so very yours.

That whimper, that beautiful sigh that escapes Mina’s lips is her final invitation. You push your tongue inside her, opening it up, feeling the tightness, the warmth. The shock coursing through her as she surrenders to the unspeakable filth and bliss of your mouth on her asshole.

So tight, so clean, so delicious.

You lick and suck and kiss, fucking her with your fingers, pressing into her, exploring the depths of that tight little hole.

"This is, this is—” her voice strains, wonder, desperation, downright heat at what you’re doing to her. "No one’s ever done this to me. Keep eating my ass, please."

It’s her words that keeps you going, and it all becomes a blur of moans and shivers, of the way she tastes, smells, feels. But you don’t stop, you can’t, all you want to do is make that tight ring of muscle yours.

“Please let me cum. Now. Please. I need it—I need you—”

She needs you to never stop.

You take her, right there in the moonlit garden, hidden by the shadows and the foliage and the silk of her dress. You can almost feel the vibrations of her voice in your mouth, against your tongue, like it’s a part of her, like she’s speaking straight into your soul with every moan and gasp and plea.

The squelch of your fingers fucking her. Her cunt griping you, being devoured. Your tongue invading her ass. The way you’re ruining her for everyone else. Her cries.

She’s so loud.

It doesn’t matter.

The whispers of the gala seem so far away, so irrelevant. It’s all about Mina and her ass and your three fingers sawing in and out of her and she’s saying—

“God, fuck, how can you do this, how can you make me—fuck—"

The answer to her unfinished question: it’s because she’s worth it. It’s because of her, how she makes you want to prove yourself. Because of her hips and her thighs and her cunt and her ass and all of her, every single part.

And that’s your name on her breath, that’s your name when she’s close, that’s your name when she finally tips over, when her legs give way and she’s gasping it into the night.

“Oh my—”

Mina cums.

You swallow.

Drink your fill from her cunt, fill up your nose with her scent. Burn the memory of what it’s like to have your face buried in her ass and have her leaking down your chin. It’s a full body spasm that wracks through her, setting her soul on fire. She’s a star, a supernova, a fucking explosion on your tongue.

Her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing, clenching, and you give it to her, keep fucking her through it, keep licking, because she’s still there, still hovering.

It overwhelms her—she lets it—you feel her body tighten, quiver, then release like a bowstring snapped.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please—yes, like that—right—right there—yes—yes—yes—”

A chant of yeses right before falling off a cliff and into an oh fuck, I’m cumming.

And you’re right there, knees in the dirt, smiling against her cheeks, holding onto her hips, making sure she doesn’t collapse entirely.

And fuck, she goes, and goes and goes.

Until the ground falls beneath her feet.

You’re there to catch her, to ease her down to the ground with you, hold her in your arms until her world stops spinning.

It takes a moment, two.

And she looks up at you, like she’s unsure of how she got there, in this tangle of sighs and limbs and you. But it doesn’t really matter because she pulls you closer, hand still buried in your hair, needing to kiss you just one more time.

Her taste lingers on your tongue—sweet and salty and so uniquely her. She kisses you again, a little less frantic this time. A little more like she means it.

It’s hard not to feel anything but pride.

Mina’s cheek is pressed to your chest, her eyes barely able to focus, her breaths coming in quiet, contented puffs.

And you’re coming to realise what kind of woman Mina is. Even now, when she should be an unrepairable mess—sprawled out on the cool floor with her dress in a puddle around her, her pussy still pulsing and leaking down her thighs—there’s this poise to her that’s downright intimidating.

She breathes, “You’re just a fantasy, aren’t you?” It feels like a warm hand sliding down your spine.

You lean down, kiss her forehead, tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

And then your emergency line rings.

Mina inclines her head. A spell is broken. “Well, that’s timing for you.”

You instantly regret the next words that come out of your mouth, the rational words that have never sounded more irrational. “I need to go.”

Mina’s far too polite, far too graceful to say what she wants to say, what you’re pleading her in your mind to say. But she knows the game. You both do.

She just nods, rewards herself with a peek at the tent angrily poking underneath your slacks.

“It’s fine,” she says. (It’s not). She reaches up to your lips, running a thumb over the gloss she’s stained you with. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Her other hand slips down to your thigh, gives you a courtesy squeeze as a farewell, and it’s all you can do not to jump. But you can’t, because the phone’s still ringing, because at the end of the day you’re still a billionaire with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold.

She’s kind of enough to give you an out. “You’re supposed to be giving a speech, right?”

Said responsibility and reputation has you answering, “Yeah.”

You’re stupid for it, stupid for even entertaining the idea of letting her go, or leaving her behind. But you’re not completely blameless—it’s near impossible to even think straight when all the blood in your body has gone south for the evening.  

“Are you going to be okay with,” Mina blinks down at you. “Your situation?”

It’s painful to even say it. “I guess I’ll have to be.”

Mina sits up, pulls herself off you, untangling her legs with a grace that seems almost otherworldly.  Pulls her panties back up, tucks them into place with a little shiver. Smooths her dress down, twisting it back into a more dignified state.

You’re already regretting letting her leave before she’s even gone.

But the messages have piled up on your phone, and Mina can see it all, the endless frantic texts, the missed calls.

You’re late.

You’re needed.

The world’s waiting.

Mina reads your face, and you can’t tell if she’s impressed or disappointed. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You stand up, help her to her feet, because that’s what you do—you take care of your own messes. She’s still smiling at you, and you want to tell her how much you wish you could stay.

“It’s okay,” is all she says, as you push your own shirt back in the waistband of your pants and slick your hair down.

She’s redoing her own hair, trying to fix it into something presentable. Something less ‘I’ve been fucked raw against a brick wall’ and more ‘gee, quite a strong wind tonight’.

“I knew from the jump you didn’t have the time.”

You’re blurting out, “I can make more.”

“Not even money can buy that.”

Your phone rings again.

Mina’s eyes follow the screen, the glow lighting up her face. Ethereal. Yeah, that's the word for how she looks. You've never been sure of the definition but you're certain it fits.

And when she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek, to bid you farewell, she holds onto your shoulder long enough to whisper her address in your ear. “I’ll be waiting. If you can get away.”

“Why don’t I just come with you now?”

She laughs—but it’s empty, almost a little sad. “Because, you have a job to do, and I have an appearance to keep up. And unlike you, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to broadcast to the whole world who I’m fucking. Or who I’m going to fuck. If he’s not late, that is.”

And with a quiet breath, she’s gone.

A ghost in the moonlight, slipping away like she’s been painted out of existence, leaving you with the memory of her on your mouth and the ache she’s leaving in your cock.

You turn back to the gala.

The air feels somewhat colder.

—

The rest of the evening goes far, far too slowly for your liking.

While your absence has been noted, the whispers and glances are more curious than concerned. They don't know where you've been, and one of your assistants is kind enough to fetch you a new shirt to replace the one that's smudged with lipstick and makeup and Mina, before any real juicy rumours can start.

You try, and fail, to get things moving as quickly as possible:

(A business rival pulls you aside to congratulate you on the recent product launch—You're just thinking about Mina's ass.

A board member sings your praises about last quarter’s earnings, how you're really sticking it to those idiots that forecasted a downturn—You're only thinking about sticking it between Mina's thighs.

A reporter that sneaked in wants to know if you're planning another acquisition so soon after the last one—Yes, you're going to acquire Mina; find somewhere far away from here with another wall to pin her against and make her scream and ache all over for you.)

Thankfully, your assistant is at the ready before you can really make a scene, dragging you over to the stage and pulling you out of this shit show.

‘Just stepped away for some air’ is what you had assured her when she took the shirt off your hands, but really, there's no point trying to hide it.

She's seen that look before, that glow that you can't quite wipe off.

But she's loyal, she doesn't ask questions. Just tells you that you’re on in five, and that in the meantime, she’ll make sure the driver is ready for a quick exit.

So, you force yourself to smile, address the faces that meld together into a wall of teeth.

Make a speech that’s just a rush of words that you've recited countless times before. Innovation and growth, the future of the company, the same spiel from the annual report wrapped up in a shiny new bow.

But none of it matters. You're not even hearing yourself speak. You're hearing the echoes of Mina's moans, feeling the tremble of her thighs as you devoured her, replaying her orgasm in your mind again and again.

You can't wait to get off this fucking stage.

The second the applause dies down, you're off like a shot. The podium forgotten; the spotlight cold on your back. You grab your phone and slip out of the garden, dodging the eager hands that reach out for just a second of your time.

You find your driver waiting, just as instructed; Mina's address already punched in the navigation.

Just go, drop me off. Don't stick around. I'll call you to pick me up in the morning.

—

“It was cerulean,” is Mina’s amused answer to your admittedly idiotic question.

Not your best moment, to be fair. You raced up to her apartment so quickly that you really didn’t have anything more intelligent to say than ‘what happened to your dress?’ and ‘I wanted to know what colour it was’.

But still, show you the person living or dead that could have said anything coherent when being greeted by Mina, opening the door to her apartment—so unashamedly smug, and so very naked.

So what if you just stood there and stared?

Stared at the curves and dips, the way her hair cascades over her shoulders in inky waves, damp from a shower; making it cling to her skin, drape over her collarbone, her breasts. The nipples peeking straight at you, dusky, pointed, waiting the return of your tongue. Her pussy winking between her thighs, a treasure hidden in a sea of smooth flesh.

You don’t know whether to apologise for your lack of eloquence or thank her for being so incredibly distracting.

You kind of want to request that she turn around.

Mina laughs at what is certainly a stupid expression colouring your face; folds her arms across her chest, crosses one leg over the other. "Waiting for me to offer you a drink?"

You blink. “Thought you already gave me one.”

She scrunches her nose, answers, “I was only being polite.”

“I think we’re well past that.”

There’s that gravity again; shifting around Mina, tilting the world towards her until she’s pulling you into her apartment and you’re kicking the door closed behind you.

“Then hurry up and take me upstairs.”

—

There’s a part of you that feels like you should warn Mina when she tells you:

“Look, you’ve kept me waiting too fucking long. I need your cock, your cum inside of me. Right now. Before it’s too late and I change my mind. So, just please, please, please—”

But those kind of thoughts are lost halfway up the staircase; when you both decide that you just can't wait anymore, and your hands are back on her hips and your tongue is pushing into her throat.

Her fault, really.

Stripping you down the hallway, leaving a trail of your clothes through her kitchen; taking you by the cock. Firm, confident pumps as she leads you through her penthouse, refusing to give you a moment to breathe.

Because she’s obsessed with it. Obsessed with how it fills her hand, how it jumps at her touch, how it throbs when she squeezes it, strokes it.

“So big for me," Mina's says—to you, to herself, to your cock. "So perfectly, impossibly, big for me."

You’re never going to make it to the top.

Pressing her up against the banister, kissing her, hard. Deep, bruising kisses, because now that you’re out of the garden you don’t give a fuck if you’re leaving marks.

You just want her to remember this night, to feel it in every pulse and every breath.

Make her think of you when she’s with him, if she can even go back to him after this. Because you’ll both know that she’s yours even when she’s not.

“You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

You look into Mina’s eyes. You can see it all, how the rest of the night will play out. You and Mina, tangled in her apartment. You and Mina, on top of the kitchen island. You and Mina, against the shower walls, on the living room floor, maybe even on the balcony.

You and Mina, until the sun rises.

You kiss her harder. “Is that a request?”

“Of course it is.”

Because now you actually have the time to appreciate her, to let your hands wander.

They glide over her body, mapping it out again, but slower this time. You've had your fill of the frantic touches, the greedy need. This is something else. This is savouring.

You start with your thumb at her navel, tracing the line down to her hips, then back up against to the base of her ribcage. It’s the feel of the muscles in her stomach tensing and relaxing as you touch her, the inhale and the exhale. How ridiculously tiny her waist feels in your hand, how your palm fits so perfectly into the curve of her side that you swear she’s been tailored for you.

Mina chokes on her breath as she tells you, “You’re going to have to stop, or we’re not going to make it to the bedroom.”

You don’t even slow down. You just don’t care.

Your hand rises, higher, finds her breasts again; cupping it in your palm. A thumb rolls over her nipple.

You pinch. She gasps.

You smile into her neck. “So, so, sensitive.”

Mina’s so willing, so keen to give herself over to you, to your touch. You’ve proven yourself to her already, made her cum with just your fingers and tongue. Now it’s just a matter of doing it all over again—but slower, better, more thorough.

You palm her breasts, rolling and pinching them until they’ve been given the attention they deserve, until she’s panting through your teases and caresses. Kneading the soft flesh beneath your hand and making her arch into your touch.

“You’re really going to take your time, aren’t you?” Mina mewls, half-sigh, half-plead. Grinding herself into you, making a shimmering mess on your waist. “Going to torture me until I can’t breathe.”

“It is your fantasy.”

Pull her closer, take a handful of that perfect ass once again. It hasn’t really been that long since you last had it in your hands but it’s all you’ve had on your mind. What it looks like under proper lighting, what it feels like without the dress in the way. What kind of noises will she make when you grope, and she doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing.

Press and squeeze, dig your fingers into her flesh. Not rough, but firm. Leaving little spots of red that will be gone by the morning.

Slide your finger down, down between her cheeks, and deeper, pressing into the sweet heat of her ass.

And then you feel it.

Her asshole. Wet and slick. Prepared.

A wink. A laugh. "Not my fault you're predictable."

You can’t fucking wait anymore.

She’ll just have to settle for the staircase.

Grab her by the hips—her ass, and pull her down with you onto the steps, her legs straddling you as you sit down.

Take her in—all of her. The curve of her, the line of her spine, the fucking paradise that’s her cheeks. Unbelievable.

You kiss into her back, follow down that trail right to where it swells, feeling the heat of her skin against your lips. You’re going to ruin this ass; permanently plant your flag there, mark it as property of you and your cock until she can’t take a seat without cursing your name.

Mina's shoulders tense when you pause, and she looks back over to you. There's a flash of nerves in her eyes, a gasp of "Here?" that's so faint you almost don't catch it.

Another kiss into her skin, you murmur, “Here’s perfect, Mina,” and she sighs when your finger presses against that puckered ring, cold with lubricant, made as ready as she’s ever going to be.

It’s the preparation that gets you; the idea of her in anticipation for you, for this, making sure she’s nice and primed. Mina at the store, still wearing that dress, fresh from her orgasm, buying lube. Mina in her bathroom, stripping herself bare, toying with her asshole, making it perfect for you.

And Mina, now, eyes clenched shut, breaths heavy as your digit is pushing through, slipping into her, and she’s so fucking tight around it.

“Oh my god,” she hisses through her teeth, a quiver in her legs as you push deeper into her tight channel.

Your hands shoot to her thighs to steady her, a reassuring anchor to keep her from toppling over as your finger fills her completely, twisting and turning, slowly but surely easing her into the idea of being taken.

It’s the moans that get you, the sighs as you intrude inside her. She’s so responsive, her breaths skipping and her pussy already starting to gush, coating your finger, your thighs, the steps below.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah—yes,” Mina stutters, her footing slips just so, but she catches herself on the banister. “It’s—it’s intense. So intense. But don’t stop, I can take it. I want—I want more. I need this. I need this now, before—before I take all of you inside of me."

“You want more?” You repeat her words, before giving her what she needs—adding a second finger, pressing them in deep, making sure she’s good and open. The lube helps, but it’s the eagerness that gets her most of the way there; it’s that trust that she has in you, her willingness to let you take her here, in this way.

“Yes, please,” Mina cries, doing everything she can to not collapse on top of you, to not come completely apart.

You’re merciless, adding a third finger, stretching her until she’s panting, until she’s crying out, making this noise, this hushed whimper that takes the shape of your name.

“Please, please, please,” Mina whispers to herself, pushing back against you, starting to rock back onto your hand, taking your fingers into her ass.

“Not yet, Mina, not yet,” you tell her, because even though she’s close, even though she’s begging, you want her to be absolutely fucking desperate for your cock when the moment comes. 

You reach around her with your other hand, finding that button, already swollen and begging for attention. Playing with it, gently at first, a soft pressure to help her let go, to allow herself to let her voice echo up the staircase and through the penthouse.

God, how is she this sensitive, reactive to every little touch, to every exploration of her cunt, her ass, her body.

It’s the ceremony of it all; this lurid, obscene ritual that you’re walking her through. Making her ass bounce on your hand in this hypnotic movement, making her stretch around your fingers, making her repeat your name over and over until she’s convinced herself that all of her belongs to you.

These perfect, near-silent sighs. This unbelievable tightness. Mina’s body, turning itself into a fucking playground for your touch; to do with it as you will. Even if it means ruining her.

And it’s when you have her creaming all over you; down her thighs, making a mess of herself with these pushes and pulls, these declarations of how ready she is for you, that her body shakes with one last, long shiver.

She cums.

Softly, soundlessly, another cry of your name dying on her lips. A hand to your wrist to stop you abruptly, panting.

Tiny, tiny shivers, twitches in her thighs, around your fingers, leaving her barely there, barely with you. Head hanging low, chest heaving, catching her breath, putting herself back together again.

Time stretches before she's cognisant again, and she turns back, looking over her shoulder and straight at you. Eyes half-lidded, hazy, dripping with lust, anticipation, burning with need.

Deep, heavy breaths. And then Mina says the most devastating thing:

“I’m ready. Fuck my ass. Now. Please.”

A gunshot in the quiet of her home, rumbling through your bones.

Your fingers leave her ass, her cunt with a wet pop, forcing a whine from her throat at the sudden emptiness. A look at her asshole, how it clenches and unclenches, beckoning for you to fill it, to claim it as your own.

“Good girl.”

Holding her by the hips, lining her ass with your cock, nudging her opening with your tip and making her shiver. You don’t go in immediately; you hover, giving her one last out, to really see if she’s absolutely certain.

Mina trembles. Nods. That’s all the invitation you need.

“God, I—”

You push in, slow and steady, eyes on her ass as she takes you. So fucking tight, so intense, you can feel every part of her squeezing, accommodating you, moulding itself around your girth and swallowing you whole.

“Take it slow, darling, take it slow,” you whisper into her skin, guiding her down, telling her how good she’s doing, how good she is for you, how much you love her tightness, her trust.

It seems impossible at first, the grip she has on you, like you’ll never get in. But inch by agonising inch, she takes you, and it’s nothing short of total heaven.

Mina, so fucking beautiful in this moment of raw vulnerability; all sharp inhales and strained quivers wrecking through her, voice shaky as she tells you, “I’ve never felt anything like this, I never thought—fuck—I never thought I could take anything like this.”

“You’re doing so good,” you kiss your words into her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her.

“I can—I can do better,” she gasps, and you believe her.

But you still go slow, so painfully slow, even though every fibre of your being is screaming at you to just dig into her hips and slam into that glorious fucking ass and never look back.

“I can take it,” Mina breathes, “Do it, I can take it. I want all of you. In my ass. I can handle it.”

Mina nods, clenches her ass, her cheeks firming up around your throbbing cock.

“I want it to hurt so good.”

No more convincing required. You push in deeper, make her back stiffen, her muscles contract, making her cry.

It’s a dance, a delicate ballet of bodies, of breath and touch, of your cock inside Mina’s ass. Lost in it, in the feel of skin on skin, the sound of wet, needy noises that she’s making, her shudders in your arms.

Until finally, with a strangled gasp, she’s fully seated. You’re buried in her tight, hot ass, basking in the warmth of her, leaving you both winded and struggling for air.

Stillness overrides the moment, because it’s too perfect, too overwhelming, and the feeling. You need to get used to the feeling.

You break the silence first. “Mina?”

“I know. I know.”

A kiss against her neck, scraping the soft skin there. A whisper in her ear, your breath hot and ragged.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”

You always keep your promises.

Mina answers by leaning back into you, her hand finding yours, her nails running along your fingers as if to say, “Yes, please, now.”

Moving, so slow it’s almost painful. The drag of her ass around your cock like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re sliding through warm, velvet-covered steel.

“Fuck, yes, please,” with every inch you pull out, and “Too much, so good, too fucking much,” when you push back in, deeper and deeper still.

It builds and builds, this sweet agony, each pass in her ass faster, harder, turning Mina’s cries and wails into moans of pure bliss. It takes time and long, hard fucking for her body to relax into this rhythm, letting you take her, own her.

A vision above you, sweat glistening on her back, hair matted and sticking to her shoulders, and Mina’s ass, a snug ring around your cock. You watch as your cock slides out of her, the way her ass clenches around the head, holding on for just a second before pushing all the way back down.

You can’t help but groan, “Christ,” as she moves on top of you like that. So gracefully, so beautifully, so fucking obscenely on your cock.

“Thank you—God—thank you, thank you, thank you.” Mina’s moans are pure music to your ears, she’s babbling, talking through the pain, through the pleasure. “So, so good, filling me like—fuck—never been filled up like this.”

And as you push on, push further and further until your cock is melting inside her, burning her up in every way she's ever dared to dream, you can see the smile curling onto Mina’s face. It’s pride, you’re realising. Proud of herself, proud of how she can take you, how she can handle this kind of depraved ecstasy.

“It feels so deep.”

Tearing her open. Revealing the tender, delicate core beneath the glamour, the lights, the unreal beauty that is Mina. Leaving her sobbing, pleading, whining for more, more, more.

Bouncing on you now, each more assured than the last, cries of nothing but need. Opening up to accept you fully, completely, her ass a tight fucking sleeve for you, coming down and wrapping itself around you like a searing hot second skin.

You know the truth, but you still want to hear it.

“How many?”

Mina has her answer ready: “You’re the—you’re the first.”

You grin. A smug, triumphant baring of teeth that spreads from ear to ear. “I have no fucking idea how that’s possible. How nothing has ever been up this tight, perfect little asshole.”

“Oh, there's been toys,” Mina moans, strained and shaky as you pump into her, “But you’re just the first that's real.”

“Then your boyfriend is a fucking idiot,” you growl into her ear, your hand moving to her throat, gently clasping, making her gasp, making her eyes go wide with shock, with excitement. “He doesn’t know what he has.”

“Enough about my boyfriend,” Mina's quick to answer, snapping, her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. “Even though—even if—he wouldn’t, couldn’t dream of filling me like this. Filling me up so much that it hurts, so much that—fuck, it feels so right, so fucking right—”

“You love this, don’t you, Mina?” You ask, but all Mina can do is nod vigorously, too overrun by the fucking to form words. “Underneath it all, you’re just a dirty slut for it, aren’t you? Letting me use this pretty, tight ass like this.”

“I—” she stutters, right before confessing, “I love it.”

She slams her hips down on you, the stairs groaning with each thrust, not built to withstand this kind of punishment.

“I love that it’s you, love that you’re the first. I can’t believe it—just—I need it. I need your cock in me, so deep—I need you, I need you, I need you—so please don't stop.”

“I would never dream of stopping.”

Never.

Not when she’s begging like this, her voice hoarse and her body quaking. When she sighs and shivers every time you fuck a little faster, push a little harder, testing just how much she can take.

Tits jiggling with every thrust, cunt leaking all the way down your thighs, ass puckering and loosening.

Her whole body, yours.

Yours for the taking. Mina’s divine body, in all its sharp planes and ridged muscles, squeezing and coiling at every juncture, every penetration setting her alight.

You declare it, even though it doesn't need to be said. “Made for me.”

“Yes,” she’s nodding. Or rather, letting her head fall into one. “God yes.”

“Just been waiting for me for so long, haven’t you? Been waiting for the right cock to come along and split you in half.” You’re saying these things, these stinging words that you fuck into Mina, send shooting through her like sparks. She’s a live-wire, a fucking blackout waiting to happen.

Weeping down her thighs, choking out every whine, “Yes,” she whispers, “yes, yes, yes, been needing to be ruined. Needing it, needing you. So much, so much, so—fucking—right—”

“Fucking criminal that you had to wait,” you’re saying, loving this, so enraptured by all of it. “But I’m here now.”

Mina shivers, pussy clenches, and she just can’t stop saying, “Yours, yours, yours—”

Completely, totally yours, now.

You know it. She knows it.

It’s written in the way she takes your cock, in the way she loses herself to you, loses all semblance of composure and decorum, peels back all the carefully curated layers that make her Mina, until all there is to see and touch is the raw, unfiltered need that you’ve unleashed from underneath.

"Touch me, fuck me, take me, take my ass, I need more—"

Again, your fingers find her folds, sticky and swollen and waiting.

You touch her, press down on her clit. Circling it with the same rhythm as your hips. Striking a match in a dark room, lighting up her body in this blaze.

The noises that it all makes; the slosh of your fingers at her cunt, the squelch of your cock invading her ass, so fucking explicit, so fucking filthy. 

She’s erratic, breath catching, throat pulsing against your fingers, and she somehow, impossibly, clenches even more around you, suffocating your cock with just her tight, tight ass.

You keep that same tempo. That desperate, fucking unyielding beat that’s going to make her come, going to turn this idol, this mystery, this drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman who should belong to someone else but is now screaming proudly just how much she’s yours, into nothing but a trembling mess of whimpers and whines.

“More, fuck—oh my god, oh my fucking god—it’s so fucking good—so good—so fucking good—”

She’s reaching her peak—her voice, her body, her cunt, her ass—all of her reaching that perfect crescendo of pleasure that you’ve been orchestrating, that you’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Sinking into her, making her feel like she’s being torn apart and remade with every stroke, making her feel nothing like she’s ever felt before, making her feel like nothing but your fucking whore.

So, so close, barrelling towards it now, all these tears running down her cheeks, these filthy words slipping from her lips. Coming apart in your arms, because she’s never been this filled, this complete.

“Going to—going to cum—fuck me, harder, harder—going to cum all over your cock—” Mina tells you, a warning, the last one you get before she screams, “Too good—filling me—so good—give it to me—God—I can never go back—”

She shatters. Monumentally.

Into a million tiny pieces of pleasure, each one more brilliant than the last.

Her body spasms, her ass squeezes so fucking tight around your cock that you can feel the orgasm ripping through her, up her spine, through her throat, until she’s crying out and it’s hitting your ears—

“Oh my God, I'm going to—just, say my name—please, say my name when I—”

“Mina,” you say, and she cums.

“Mina,” you repeat when her pussy floods over your hand, ass smothers your cock.

“Mina,” again when it ripples across her skin, leaves her in fits, uncontrollable quakes, consumed by pure, unfiltered joy.

You watch the whole thing—watch her scream your name, watch her shake and quiver and fall apart, right there on your cock; and you're fucking her through it all, fucking her well past it, chanting “Mina” over and over again.

You'll never forget this, never forget this sight—this woman, this star, built up and broken down just for you.

“Mine,” you bite into her ear, because now, it’s true.

Mina’s barely there, eyes glassy, hand cradling your face. But she’s able to say it, because it’s branded into every bone of her body: “Yours.”

It’s a complete disaster.

And now you're cumming.

Brand new sensations, devastation in full measure—your soul ripped from your chest, until all that’s left is this impulsive, overwhelming need to give her your all, your everything—to fill her entire existence with just you.

You drive your cock into her once more, impaling her deep, and let go.

It floods her, rushes inside her, spills and spills.

Mina can't do anything but feel it—every pulse, every spurt. She throws her head back, her mouth open in this silent plea, satisfaction painted across her face as your heat surges inside her. Her ass milks you, needy for every drop, so, so thirsty for it.

“It's—cumming inside my ass—so, so nice, keep cumming for me.”

You hold onto her, throb inside her, pump ropes into her, and there's a kiss—hot and clumsy—somewhere in the midst of it all, your mouths colliding and tongues wrapping around each other in a futile attempt to last just that little bit longer.

Getting all dizzy and spellbound, floating back down to the ground as the last waves of your climaxes start to subside, until one of you says, “Thank you,” and the other echoes it back.

You stay like that, swallowed up inside her, dripping out of her ass. Lowering one hand from her throat, rising the other from her pussy, pulling her into an embrace, keeping her as close as you can while you both try to put yourselves back together.

It’s sex that soaks the air, fills the penthouse—sweat, lube, the musk of all the evidence you're leaving behind. Intoxicating, breathing it in, setting your nerves alight, rousing your cock inside her all over again.

But Mina, she’s a stunning catastrophe, torn asunder in all the best ways. Perfection not marred, but made better. Completed. Looking up at you with wonder, with gratitude, with a smile.

You look down at her and admit it, “Perfect.”

Mina laughs out loud, “Disastrously perfect.”

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

You kiss her once more.

Mina kisses you back.

“Only if we make it one.” 

—

You think you can read her mind.

And she, yours.

It’s the only way any of this makes sense—how perfect you fit together, how well you read each other; fill each other’s needs without use of any words outside of curses and names and strangled pleas.

Printed onto your DNA, carved into your bones, these exact pathways you shape through her home and into her skin.

You do make it to the bedroom, somehow.

And then, exactly as predicted:

The shower, where Mina takes you into her mouth, gags herself around you, covers herself in your cum before letting the water wash it all away.

Then the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of wine, slurring promises into Mina’s cunt, having her rake the back of your scalp and scream the same promises back into your ears.

And finally, the living room, folding her over the couch, tumbling onto the floor with Mina, riding you so hard the neighbours below start banging on their ceiling in protest. 

It's only the balcony that goes untouched.

Maybe another time.

But that’s where it ends: sprawled across a lush rug, sticky with sweat and cum and wine, naked and bare. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the photos that line the walls and shelves—family, friends, her boyfriend. Just living in this bubble where the sun will never rise and the world outside ceases to exist.

Getting to know each other in ways few people ever do.

Tracing patterns into the small of her back, asking these questions. Is this what you always imagined you would be doing? How you thought your life would be? Does it ever actually feel enough?

Mina pokes and prods back, her nails lightly scraping against your chest, leaving half-moons in her wake. Do you think you could ever be happy? Do you ever wonder why it’s so hard for other people to keep up? Are you fucked up in all the same ways as me?

And it’s so easy to answer truthfully, to be honest, because you’re both still maintaining the façade of this just being a simple fling; a blip along the timeline of your lives.

The yours and mine of it all, all those promises you were spilling. Just callous words tossed in the throes of passion.

They didn’t mean anything real.

Because it’s not like you’re going to see each other again, not like there’s going to be a mess of emotions and consequences that will have to be dealt with in the morning after.

Eventually though, the light does slip through the curtains, the clothes come back on, and you’re kissing Mina against the doorway and thinking of a million reasons why you should stay.

"So, how long are we going to pretend that this is normal?" You broach, and it immediately feels like you’re breaking some unspoken rule. 

Mina’s keeping herself busy, hands at your shirt, buttoning it back into place, one by one. Hiding away evidence that her mouth, her lips, her teeth were ever on you.

She looks up at you. Smirks. “Fucking ‘til the break of dawn, giving each other orgasms that never quite end? Flooding each one of my holes with your cum?” 

You tilt your head. 

“I don’t know. This whole thing is… unique. Uncharted territory and all.”

“It goes without saying, but, yeah. Same for me.” You echo, “Unique.”

You reach for her, smoothing her hair back. The early morning light makes it shine like a crown of jewels. 

“Do you want it to stay that way?”

Mina considers. Leans into your hand. “You think we should make a habit out of this? I didn’t pin you for the type.”

“Neither did I, but it didn’t seem so bad when you were riding me on that couch,” you tease. “And in the shower, and on the staircase, and in the kitchen…”

She blushes, lips caught between her teeth, looking like she’s struggling to hold in a laugh. There’s this glint in her eye as her hand wanders up to your cheek, thumb hovering just shy of your mouth. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you again.

But instead, she just looks at you.

Eyes you with something close to fascination, something that makes your heart stop. And you're reading each other’s minds again, knowing you're both going to lie, going to pretend like this was just a one-night thing. Something the two of you can easily wipe your hands with and walk away from like it never even happened.

Because this really is the first time—you’ve never done anything like this before. Sure you’ve dipped your toe in the pool of commitment, paddled around in the shallow end, but you’ve never fallen for someone proper.

Never worried about what someone's going to be doing when you’re not there, never thought about whether you’d be better off sticking around to find out. 

But you have a job. A company to run.

And Mina, a career. A boyfriend. A life.

So, you don’t make plans.

You don’t even ask for her number.

You don't need to.

Deep down inside you know you’ll find her again.

For now though, you spin your bullshit: “It’s probably for the best if we don’t, though.”

“Probably.” Mina agrees, but she can hear the same ticking clock as you.

The timer that’s already started, counting down to when she’ll inevitably be undoing the same buttons, redrawing the same patchwork of red and pink across your chest, and pulling you into her home and into her; fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, in all the ways she needs, until you’re spilling out of her all over again.

 “Definitely.” Mina unlocks the front door. “For the best.”

[heestruck]

Joint Dream ; Lee Heeseung

synopsis ; What if we lived in a world where dreams were connected? Where my thoughts became yours. And yours became mine. Where a simple fantasy that ran through your unconscious mind was shared with someone else. And neither of you had any idea that your dreams were connected as one.

In which yn and heeseung have the same sex dream about each other and are forced to get through a long shift not knowing the other person shared the same dream.

pairing ; coworker!fem reader x coworker!heeseung

genre ; smut

warnings ; smut, mdni. hair pulling, degrading, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), inappropriate relationship, infidelity, oral fem&male receiving, praising, sex in the workplace, heeseung is downbad, swearing.

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact.

wc ; 7.7k

I’d strongly advise you read the teaser so you can read the dream. you can find that when you click here

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the cool morning light filtering through your bedroom window. The dream from last night clung to your thoughts like a stubborn fog, making it hard to focus. Every time you tried to push it away, it resurfaced—Heeseung’s hands, his breath on your neck, the way he’d looked at you with such raw desire. You shook your head, trying to dispel the images, but they only seemed to grow clearer.

Across town, Heeseung was standing under the steaming spray of the shower, his hand pressed against the cold tile as water cascaded down his back. He’d woken up with the dream still fresh in his mind, the memory of your body pressed against his in the boardroom sending a jolt of arousal through him. He bit his lip, trying to shake the feeling, but the more he thought about it, the more turned on he became. His hand twitched, itching to do something about it, but he forced himself to stay still. He was married, for God’s sake. But even as he reminded himself of that, the thought of his wife barely registered—just a distant echo compared to the vivid images of you.

You pulled a pair of black dress pants from your closet, laying them on the bed as you debated what to wear on top. Normally, getting dressed for work was a mindless task, something you did without much thought. But today, after that dream, it felt different. You didn’t want to dress too provocatively—Heeseung was married, after all, and it’s not like you were going to seduce him—but you also didn’t want to seem like you were behaving out of the ordinary. You settled on a white long-sleeved shirt, hoping it struck the right balance.

Heeseung turned off the shower, running a towel through his hair as he stepped out, the cool air hitting his skin doing little to quell the heat still coursing through him. He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he shake this feeling? He tried to think about his wife, but even the thought of her didn’t stir the guilt it used to. Instead, all he could see was you—how you’d looked in that dream, the way your body had responded to his touch. He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

In your room, you slipped into the black waistcoat, adjusting it until it sat perfectly. The formal look of it made you feel more grounded, more in control. But even as you dressed, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung. How were you going to face him today, knowing what you’d dreamt? Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him, of being in the same room with him after what had happened in your subconscious. The images from the dream were still so vivid, so real, it was hard to believe it hadn’t actually happened.

Heeseung pulled on a pair of black dress pants, followed by a crisp white button-up shirt. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, as he tried to suppress the arousal that kept surging up every time his thoughts drifted back to you. He fastened each button with deliberate care, but even that wasn’t enough to keep his mind from wandering. His wife’s voice, faint and tired, reached him from the bedroom. “You don’t care about us anymore, do you?” she mumbled, half-asleep but clearly hurt. Heeseung froze for a moment, listening to the words, but they barely registered. He knew she was right—there had been a distance between them for a while now. But instead of feeling guilt, all he felt was a dull, muted acknowledgment. He didn’t care as much as he should, and the realization didn’t bother him like it used to.

In the kitchen, Heeseung’s wife was pouring coffee when he walked in, her expression distant. She didn’t look up when she spoke, her voice flat and resigned. “Have a good day,” she said, the words empty, merely being said out of habit rather than genuine care. “You too,” Heeseung replied, his tone just as hollow. As he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, he glanced back at her, but the connection they once had seemed to have withered away. Whatever was missing, he didn’t have the energy or desire to find it again.

You grabbed your bag, checking your reflection one last time before heading out the door. The nerves were still there, but you tried to push them down, reminding yourself that it was just a dream. However, deep down you knew it had changed how you saw Heeseung. As you locked the door behind you, your heart pounded with anticipation, the thought of seeing him today sending a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite shake.

Heeseung climbed into his car, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of you, of the dream that had left him aching for something he knew he shouldn’t want. As he drove towards the office, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, the familiar route passing by in a blur as he mentally prepared himself for the day ahead. He tried to think about the project, about the work waiting for him, but it was useless. The dream had taken hold of him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape it

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

You stepped into the elevator, the familiar hum of filling the small space as you pressed the button for your office floor. The doors began to slide shut when you heard a voice calling out, just before the doors sealed completely.

“Hold it, please!”

Instinctively, you reached out to press the ‘open’ button, the doors pausing their descent before slowly reversing. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Heeseung stepped into the elevator, his pace quickening to close the distance before the doors could shut again. He offered you a grateful smile, his hand brushing yours as he reached for the button panel, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

“Thanks,” Heeseung said, his voice smooth, though there was an underlying tension you couldn’t quite place.

“Sure,” you managed to reply, your voice quieter than you intended. You could feel the atmosphere in the elevator shift as the doors finally closed, sealing the two of you inside the small, confined space.

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. You stood side by side, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. Your mind raced, replaying the vivid details of your dream, trying to push them out of your mind. You had never felt so uneasy around him before, and the tension in the air only made it worse.

Heeseung, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep his thoughts under control. The memory of his dream lingered at the edges of his mind, and every time he glanced at you, he felt an odd mix of confusion and guilt. He didn’t understand why he had dreamed about you, of all people, and the lingering effects of the dream unsettled him. But he refused to let it show, keeping his expression neutral and his demeanor calm.

When you and Heeseung first started at the company, it was immediately clear that you were both cut from the same cloth—ambitious, driven, and determined to make a name for yourselves. You joined the company on the same day, and from the outset, there was a natural chemistry between you. You quickly became each other’s unofficial competition, constantly pushing one another to do better, to reach higher. But it wasn’t the kind of rivalry that bred resentment. If anything, it brought you closer together.

In those early days, there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You knew that Heeseung would work just as hard as you would, and you respected him for it. Heeseung, in turn, admired your tenacity and sharp mind. The competition between you was light-hearted, almost playful at times. You’d tease each other over who could land the biggest client or who could draft the most airtight proposal, but it was always in good fun. There was a certain flirtatiousness in your banter, but it never crossed the line into anything inappropriate. It was just the way you interacted—two people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, who relished the challenge of trying to outdo one another.

There were countless late nights spent in the office, just the two of you, with takeout containers strewn across your desks and a few empty coffee cups lined up as you pored over financial statements or budget proposals. Those nights had a certain intimacy to them, but it was always rooted in your mutual respect and shared goals. There were moments when the teasing would get a little more personal—a compliment on how sharp Heeseung looked in his suit, or a playful jab from him about how you always seemed to have the right answer at the right time. But it was all part of the dance, the rhythm you’d fallen into over the years.

And now, after years of working side by side, something had changed. The friendship that had once been so easy had become tainted with an unfamiliar tension, an awkwardness that neither of you knew how to address. It was as if the dynamic that had once defined your relationship had been thrown off balance, leaving you both unsure of how to resolve this.

The numbers on the elevator panel ticked up slowly, each floor feeling like an eternity. Heeseung glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing the way you kept your gaze fixed forward, determined not to meet his eyes. He wondered if you were just as uncomfortable as he was, but quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way you could know what had been going on in his head last night.

“So… how was your weekend?” Heeseung asked, his voice light but slightly strained. It was a desperate attempt to break the silence, to inject some normalcy into the situation.

“It was�� fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Pretty quiet, actually.”

He nodded, his expression neutral. “Yeah, same here. Quiet.”

The conversation died as quickly as it started, the tension between you both thickening the air. The elevator continued its slow ascent, the atmosphere growing more stifling with each passing second. You could feel your pulse quicken, the proximity to Heeseung almost unbearable as you tried to focus on anything other than the dream.

Heeseung shifted slightly, trying to focus on anything but the lingering tension. He had worked with you for years, and there had never been anything like this between you before. The dream had thrown him off balance, and he didn’t know how to regain his footing. The memory of his wife’s words that morning echoed faintly in his mind, but he pushed it aside, refusing to let it distract him any further.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached your floor, the doors sliding open with a mechanical whoosh. You practically leapt out, eager to escape the suffocating tension, but you felt Heeseung’s presence close behind, his footsteps copying yours as you made your way to your respective desks.

As you reached your desk, you let out a shaky breath, one you hadn’t known you were holding. You sat down in your chair, opening your laptop in hopes that work would be enough of a distraction. Across the room, Heeseung settled into his chair, his face a mask of calm professionalism, but beneath the surface, his thoughts were anything but.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The office was quiet, the usual buzz of activity replaced by the soft hum of machines left running through the night. The last of the overhead lights dimmed as their colleagues packed up and headed out, offering quick farewells to you and Heeseung. You smiled and nodded in return, though your thoughts were far from the work you were about to dive into.

Your mind kept drifting back to the dream throughout your entire work day. The memory of it made your cheeks flush even now, hours later. It wasn’t just the vividness of the dream that lingered—it was the way it had sparked something new in you. You stole a glance at him, wondering if he could sense the awkwardness you felt or if you were giving away too much with your lingering looks.

But Heeseung was as calm and composed as ever. He leaned casually against his desk, his posture relaxed as he chatted with a colleague. His voice was smooth, his expression unreadable, revealing nothing of what might be going on in his mind. If he had any idea about the dream that had shaken you, he didn’t show it. Yet, beneath your nerves, there was a strange, new pull toward him—something the dream had awakened.

"Ready to get started?" His voice was steady, and confident, as he approached you.

"Yeah, let’s do this," you replied, hoping your own voice didn’t betray the nervousness you felt.

As you settled into the now-empty office, the silence between you and Heeseung stretched, filled only by the quiet clicking of keyboards and the distant sounds of the city outside. You tried to focus on the work at hand, but your thoughts kept straying back to the dream—how real it had felt, how much it had affected you. More than anything, you were startled by how much you had enjoyed it, and how much it had made you see Heeseung in a different light.

Every time you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, but he gave nothing away. His movements were fluid and assured, his focus seemingly unshakeable. He occasionally offered you a small, reassuring smile, as if everything was perfectly normal. But there was a newfound awareness in the air, something unspoken yet undeniably present.

But beneath that calm exterior, Heeseung was battling thoughts he couldn’t shake. The dream he’d had the night before was still fresh in his mind—an unexpected and vivid encounter with you that left him feeling uneasy. Despite the unease, he couldn’t deny that the dream had enticed him. It had stirred something within him that he hadn’t anticipated—a secret attraction he now found himself struggling to ignore.

Still, Heeseung was an expert at keeping his emotions in check. His demeanor remained collected, his focus on the task at hand. He wouldn’t let a stray dream affect his professionalism. But as the night wore on, the guilt started fading away and the attraction mixed with his own selfish desires lingered.

“Do you have the financial report for Q1?” Heeseung’s voice broke through the silence, his eyes scanning the documents in front of him, as if drowning himself in numbers could chase away the thoughts that kept resurfacing. You had the report he’d requested right in front of you, but every time he spoke, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting. You stared at the title on the report, trying to focus on anything other than the remnants of the dream that refused to leave your mind.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, passing him the stapled papers. You attempted to refocus on your own work, your fingers tapping across the keyboard, but your eyes kept drifting back to Heeseung—the way he bit his bottom lip when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes narrowed as he concentrated, and then there was the wedding band he kept twisting around his ring finger.

It was shameful, you knew, to be thinking like this about a colleague, especially a married one.

But Heeseung’s thoughts weren’t much different from your own. It was shameful for him to be stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, his thoughts drifting back to the dream he couldn’t shake. He prided himself on his self-control, on resisting temptation, but as he watched you from across the desk, the memory of that godforsaken dream kept creeping back. His gaze flickered briefly to the hallway, where the boardroom from his dream lay just out of sight.

“Have you ever dreamt about work?” Heeseung asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he could think better of it. It was a risky move, bringing up his dream of all things, but something compelled him to broach the topic. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to achieve by mentioning it—it wasn’t as though he could come right out and say what was really on his mind.

The question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily frozen. Why would he bring up dreams right now of all times?

“Yeah… last night, actually.” You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks as you responded, your fingers pausing their movement on the keyboard. “But I can’t really remember what it was about.”

Like Heeseung, you felt an inexplicable urge to keep the conversation going, as if talking about it might somehow dissolve the tension in the air. Maybe if you opened the door to the subject, it would help you forget the dream altogether. But as the images of the dream grew sharper in your mind, you felt the familiar pull of desire gnawing at you. “Me too, actually… something to do with the boardroom.”

Your mind raced as Heeseung spoke. Had you accidentally said something? Had someone somehow found out about your dream? You knew it was impossible. You hadn’t told a soul, and you were certain you hadn’t slipped up. Yet, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, like he knew exactly what was tormenting you. Anxiety twisted in your chest, but it was mixed with an unexpected surge of adrenaline, making your pulse quicken.

In Heeseung’s mind, a similar conflict was raging. The thought of his wife, once a grounding presence, had faded into the background. He’d worked alongside you for years, and though he’d always harbored a subtle, unspoken attraction, he had never let it show. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, making it feel as if you were strangers who had only just met each other.

Heeseung knew he was venturing into dangerous territory. He was fully aware of the risks, of the line he was dangerously close to crossing. He’d always prided himself on his self-control, on keeping his professional and personal lives separate. But the curiosity, the temptation, was growing too strong to ignore. “Remember when we first started?” he began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. “We were chasing clients like crazy, spending nearly every day and night in this office drafting proposals.”

“Of course I remember,” you replied, a small, almost forced laugh escaping your lips. “Your wife saw me as a threat because she thought you wanted me,” you added, trying to keep the mood light, though inside you winced at the mention of his partner. It was a clumsy attempt to deflect the rising tension, but it only made the air between you feel even heavier.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He knew he shouldn’t make an advancement towards you. But it’s like he had lost all control of himself. “Aren’t you though?” he asked, his voice low and measured, each word carrying a weight that hung between you. The question took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless as a jolt of unease settled in your stomach. What could he possibly mean by that?

“W-what are you talking about?” you stammered, hating the way your voice faltered. You mentally cursed yourself for letting your nerves show, for giving him a glimpse of just how much his words had affected you. The tension in the room was palpable now, thick and suffocating. It was as if the long hours of work and accumulated stress had cracked open something between you, something neither of you were fully prepared to face. Yet, there was no denying the undercurrent of desire that had been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

Heeseung leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a thrill through you. “Are you sure you don’t remember what the dream was about?” His chair inched closer, closing the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. They were searching, probing, as if trying to unlock the secrets you were so desperately trying to keep hidden. Your heart pounded in your chest, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate.

“Because ever since I woke up from my dream… God, I’ve wanted to go back to it over and over. I haven’t wanted something this badly since—”

“The Decelis deal,” you interrupted, finishing his sentence with a voice steadier than you felt. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and for a moment, silence filled the space between you. When your eyes finally met his, you saw the recognition in his gaze, the silent confirmation that your worst fears were true. Every piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and with it, the undeniable truth: Heeseung had the same dream. The realization sent a shockwave through you, leaving you breathless and reeling.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stared into Heeseung’s eyes, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air between you. The world outside your small bubble ceased to exist—the office, your responsibilities, and even the boundaries that had once kept you in check all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing on the line of something dangerous, something that could change everything. The tension was unbearable, and yet, neither of you moved, neither of you willing to be the first to break the fragile silence.

But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Heeseung leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. The space between you seemed to vanish in an instant, and before you could fully process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as though he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far. But when you didn’t, when you instead leaned into him, his hesitation vanished. Heeseung’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until it was all-consuming.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively, as though this was what it had been waiting for all along. The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed—intense, overwhelming, and utterly perfect. It was nothing like the dream; it was better. So much better. The reality of it, the warmth of his lips, the way he tasted, the way his body pressed against yours, all of it was far more intoxicating than anything your mind could have conjured up while you slept.

Without breaking the kiss, Heeseung’s hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he tugged you from your chair onto his lap. The sudden shift made your breath catch, your legs straddling him as he pulled you even closer. The feel of his body beneath you, strong and solid, sent a jolt of electricity through you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter than anything you’d felt before. Every thought of professionalism, of the consequences, of his marriage, vanished as you lost yourself in the moment.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, as though you were both trying to make up for lost time, for the months, years even, of holding back. There was no more room for restraint, only the overwhelming need to be closer, to feel more. The way you fit together felt natural, as though you’d been doing this for years, and yet, it was all new, exhilarating in a way that left you dizzy and craving more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. The room was still spinning, the weight of what had just happened starting to settle in, but neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary, trivial even, compared to what you had just shared.

All you could think about was how right it had felt, how much better this was than any dream. The reality of Heeseung’s touch, his kiss, was more than you had ever imagined it could be, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you had ever gone so long without it.

Heeseung’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was no confusion, no hesitation. Just a mutual understanding, a shared acknowledgment of what you both wanted, and a silent agreement that this was only the beginning.

Your need for more was undeniable as you leaned in, eager to reconnect your lips with his. The kiss was charged with desire, a release of the pent-up tension that had been simmering all day. As your lips moved against Heeseung’s, you could barely contain yourself. “I want you so bad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. His eyes fluttered open at your words, and you could feel the effect they had on him, the tension in his dress pants growing as you straddled him.

“Just one kiss and you’re already acting like a desperate slut for me?” Heeseung’s voice was low, teasing, as a smirk tugged at his lips. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the roughness of his words. The contrast sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself nodding slowly, acknowledging the desire he had ignited deep within you.

“Please, Seung, I need you.” Your plea was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly as he stood. He carried you across the room, your heart racing as he moved towards the boardroom—the very place that had been haunting both of your dreams all day. “Oh, baby… don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured, his voice a promise that sent a shiver down your spine.

As soon as you entered the room, Heeseung set you down on the polished wooden surface of the table, his hands sliding from under your thighs to your waist. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he began to unbutton your waistcoat. He knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time as if savoring every second. His smirk only widened as he watched your patience wear thin, your hands moving to help him, pulling off the waistcoat and then your shirt, tossing them both aside in your haste.

Heeseung’s amusement was evident, but there was a hunger in his eyes as he took in your eagerness. Even as your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, your desperation to feel his skin against yours was clear. His shirt soon joined yours on the floor, leaving the two of you exposed, the intensity of the moment amplified by the shared vulnerability. “God, you’re perfect,” Heeseung whispered, his voice filled with genuine admiration as his hand came up to cup one of your breasts through your bra.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was different from the others. This one was unhurried, sensual, a deep connection that sealed the unspoken bond between you. “I think I need to show you just how perfect you are,” he mumbled against your lips, his breath warm and intoxicating. You nodded frantically, the anticipation almost too much to bear as he gently guided you down onto your back.

The cool surface of the table met your skin, sending a shiver through you as Heeseung’s fingers deftly worked at the waistband of your dress pants. He took his time, slowly undoing the button and zipper, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid the fabric down your legs. Heeseung was in no hurry; he was savoring every moment, every inch of your skin that was revealed to him.

Heeseung was on cloud nine, his desire for you overwhelming. He had never felt anything like this before, not even with his wife. It was as if his entire world had shifted, and now, all that mattered was you.

He leaned over your body, pressing a trail of kisses along your stomach, each one setting your nerves alight. As he worked his way down, his lips reached the edge of your panties. With a playful glint in his eye, he bit onto the delicate fabric, dragging it down to your knees, his gaze locked on yours the entire time.

Heeseung was like something out of your deepest fantasies, a vision that put every other experience to shame. Even the simple act of undressing you felt charged with an intoxicating sensuality. Before you could fully process it, Heeseung’s lips brushed against your clit, a light, teasing kiss that sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch.

Heeseung’s lips hovered just above your clit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. The anticipation was maddening, the tension in your body coiling tighter with each passing second. Heeseung was teasing you, savoring the moment as his eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with an intense hunger that made your pulse race.

Slowly, he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your clit. The sensation was electric, sending a shockwave through your entire body. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the wooden surface in response. Heeseung smirked against you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Without warning, his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate circle around your clit. The pressure was just right, enough to make you moan, your hands instinctively reaching down to grip the edge of the table. Heeseung’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he continued his slow, torturous assault on your clit, each stroke of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

Heeseung didn’t let up, his tongue moving with purpose now, alternating between soft flicks and gentle sucks, pulling more desperate sounds from you. Your mind was a haze of pleasure, every coherent thought melting away as Heeseung worked you over with an expertise that left you breathless.

You could feel the pressure building in your core, the coil tightening with each skilled movement of his tongue. “Heeseung…” You breathed out his name, the sound trembling on your lips. Heeseung hummed against you in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you, pushing you even closer to your peak.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you tried to ground yourself. Heeseung’s mouth was relentless, focused entirely on bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. His tongue moved faster now, flicking against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, driving you wild.

You could feel the orgasm building, threatening to crash over you at any moment. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge. “Please… don’t stop,” you managed to choke out, your voice thick with desperation. Heeseung only responded by doubling down, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue with precision, pushing you over the edge.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with an intensity that left you breathless. Your back arched off the table, a strangled moan escaping your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Heeseung didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to work you through your high, milking every last drop of pleasure from you.

You were completely undone, every muscle in your body trembling as the aftershocks of the orgasm washed over you. Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, a satisfied smile on his face. You were still trying to catch your breath, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.

Heeseung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood up, towering over you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His words sent another shiver down your spine, your body still buzzing from the afterglow.

You could barely form a response, your body still trembling with the remnants of your orgasm. But the look in Heeseung’s eyes told you that this was far from over. Heeseung reached down, his fingers trailing over your skin as he slowly leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

This time, you could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what he had just done to you. The kiss was slow and sensual, a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just happened. It was like he was savoring you, drawing out every moment, every sensation.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his voice sending a thrill through you. And with that, he leaned in to claim your lips once more, as if to prove that he was just getting started.

Your body was still trembling from the waves of pleasure that had just surged through you, but the desire to taste Heeseung was overwhelming. With what little strength you had left, you slid off the table, your knees sinking into the plush carpet as you gazed up at him with a mix of determination and innocence. Reaching up, your hand found its way to Heeseung's bulge, massaging him through his pants. The sensation drew a hiss from him, his breath catching in his throat.

"Are you just going to tease me, or are you going to put that mouth to good use?" Heeseung's voice was laced with frustration, his hands slamming onto the table with a resonating thud that echoed through the empty boardroom. His tone was a mix of command and need, driving you to act.

You eagerly undid the button and zipper of his dress pants, pulling them down to his ankles. With a quick, practiced motion, you slipped his boxers down as well, revealing him in all his glory. Your eyes widened at the sight—he was more than you had anticipated. The shock of his size was clear on your face, and Heeseung noticed. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he took in your reaction.

"Like what you see, baby? Think you can handle all of it?" His taunting words were delivered with a growl, a playful challenge that only fueled your eagerness.

You leaned in, your lips, still tingling from earlier kisses, wrapped around the tip of his cock. The initial contact made Heeseung curse under his breath, a sound of relief escaping him. His hand found your hair, tangling in it to guide you as he pushed more of himself into your mouth. "Fuck, your mouth feels incredible. I could have you under my desk all day."

His grip tightened in your hair, and you began to bob your head, taking more of him in with each movement. The room was filled with the sounds of your efforts, the slick, rhythmic motion of your mouth against him, and Heeseung’s growing groans of pleasure. He thrust forward to meet your rhythm, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each push. The gagging only seemed to spur him on, his moans growing louder and more desperate.

"You're taking me so well," he panted, his voice a mix of praise and primal need. "Should have fucked this mouth sooner." His thrusts grew more urgent, faster, as he chased his climax.

"You're such a pathetic little slut for me, aren’t you?" Heeseung’s words were a mixture of praise and degradation, his control slipping as he neared the edge. His moans were uncontrollable now, his breathing ragged as he felt his orgasm building.

With one final, hard thrust, Heeseung’s release hit him like a tidal wave. His head fell back, eyes rolling, as ropes of cum shot down your throat. Heeseung’s moans filled the room, each sound a testament to the intense pleasure you had given him. The culmination of his desire left him breathless, and he marveled at the unparalleled pleasure you had delivered.

The two of you lingered in the aftermath, bodies spent yet neither willing to let go of the moment. Heeseung helped you to your feet, guiding you back onto the table with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of just moments before. "Heeseung..." you breathed out, your voice trembling as your eyes locked with his. Without hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer until you could feel the heated press of his bare cock against your slick entrance, the sensation pulling a needy whimper from your throat.

"I know, baby..." Heeseung’s voice was low, thick with desire as he seemed to read your thoughts. He knew exactly what you wanted because it mirrored his own need. His hand slid down between your bodies, gripping the base of his cock before slowly dragging the tip along your wet folds. The anticipation built as he nudged at your entrance, teasing you before finally pushing in, inch by agonizing inch.

Both of you moaned as he stretched you out, your body adjusting to accommodate him. You sat up just enough to reach behind you, swiftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, not caring where it landed. All that mattered was him. "God, you’re so tight," Heeseung hissed through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips to steady you both as he bottomed out inside you.

Once he was fully sheathed, Heeseung pulled back, only to slam his hips forward in a series of hard, deliberate thrusts. The raw intensity of the pleasure caught you off guard, the sensation so overwhelming, so perfectly right. "This pussy was made for me," he groaned, his words echoing in the air as your bodies moved together, fitting like two pieces of a long-missing puzzle. "Mmph... Seungie, you feel so good..." you moaned, your voice breaking as he set a relentless pace.

Heeseung’s thrusts were timed to perfection, each one hitting deeper than the last, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. His hand slid up your body, wrapping firmly around your neck as he continued to pound into you. "This is so much better than the dream," you gasped, your fingers curling around his wrist as his grip tightened, the pressure adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

"We should’ve done this sooner," Heeseung growled, his voice strained with the effort to hold back his release. "Could’ve had you taking my cock all day... God, you feel so perfect." His words hit you like a bolt of electricity, igniting a blush that spread across your cheeks. He tugged your body closer to the edge of the table, his cock driving deeper, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. "Fuck, I’m already so close..." he groaned, biting down on his lip as his movements grew more desperate.

Your moans echoed through the boardroom, loud and unrestrained as you met each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. "Cum in me, Heeseung... please, I want to be filled with your cum," you cried out, your voice laced with need as you pleaded with him. "Yeah? You want me to breed this little pussy? Want everyone to know who you belong to?" Heeseung’s free hand slid down to your clit, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts as he watched you unravel beneath him.

The tension coiled tightly in your core, your orgasm building with every passing second. Heeseung could feel the way your walls clenched around him, your body trembling as you edged closer to release. "Fuck, you’re squeezing me so... ah—fuck!" Heeseung’s sentence trailed off, his mind going blank as the sensation overwhelmed him. It was as if you had trapped him, and he was helpless to resist.

"Hee... Please... please, I need to cum," you begged, your legs shaking around his waist as you teetered on the brink. Heeseung gave you a nod, and that was all you needed to finally let go. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your body tensing around his cock as you came hard, screaming his name as the pleasure tore through you. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you cried out for him, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

The tight squeeze of your pussy was all it took to push Heeseung over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your neck tightening as he emptied himself into you, his release spilling out in hot, thick waves. "Fuck... Y/N. Oh fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice raw as his orgasm crashed over him, leaving him breathless and spent.

As his grip on your neck loosened, Heeseung leaned down, resting his head on your chest as he caught his breath. Instinctively, your hands tangled in his hair, soothing him as he pressed soft kisses along your exposed skin. Slowly, Heeseung withdrew, his cock slipping out of you as he stood upright, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cum beginning to spill from your still-sensitive entrance. With a smirk, he pushed two fingers inside you, gathering the leaking cum and pressing it back into your body. "Can’t have you wasting this, can we?" he murmured, his tone teasing.

Even now, after everything, he couldn’t resist taunting you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, too blissed out to form a coherent response. Heeseung pulled his boxers back up, his touch gentle as he fetched your discarded panties and slipped them back onto your legs. His movements were tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just transpired.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

It wasn’t long before the two of you were fully dressed again, returning to your shared workstation and attempting to pick up where you left off. The air was still charged with the lingering heat of your earlier encounter, making it nearly impossible to focus. Every few minutes, your eyes would meet, and before you knew it, you'd be exchanging soft, lingering kisses. Heeseung was completely lost in you, every touch, every glance fueling the connection between you both. But there was a shadow that loomed over this moment, a problem neither of you could ignore—his wife.

By the time the clock ticked past 5:00 a.m., the final proposal was submitted to your boss, setting him up for the client meeting later that day. You both knew you’d be fast asleep by then, but it didn’t matter. The work was done, and it was the least of your concerns now. Like the gentleman he prided himself on being, Heeseung insisted on walking you to your car. As you reached the driver's side door, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a string of gentle, lingering kisses that made your heart race.

"Seung... will this be the last time we’re... like this?" you asked softly, nibbling on your bottom lip. The question hung heavy in the air, your nerves betraying your calm exterior. You knew the reality—you were standing on the precipice of something forbidden, something beautiful, but he was still married.

Heeseung’s gaze softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. "I’ll handle it," he murmured, his voice steady and sure. He knew exactly what you were asking, and more importantly, he knew what he had to do. "I think a part of me has always wanted this... I don’t want to let it go." His words were whispered against your lips before he kissed you once more, a kiss that felt like both a promise and a plea.

You nodded, your heart swelling with hope and fear as you reciprocated the kiss, pulling away reluctantly to slide into the driver’s seat. "Text me when you get home, yeah?" he asked, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You returned his smile, nodding as you backed out of the parking spot and drove away. Heeseung stood there, watching until your car disappeared from view, the warmth of his feelings for you burning brightly in his chest. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years, something that chipped away at the walls he had built around his heart, leaving him with a smile that he couldn’t seem to shake.

But as he returned to his own home, the smile slowly faded. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him, and the faint clinking of dishes could be heard from the kitchen. "I’m home," he called out, his voice a bit flat as he walked into the kitchen. His wife was there, tidying up, just as she always was. Heeseung grabbed a mug, pouring himself some coffee before settling at the kitchen table. The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that wraps itself around you and makes it hard to breathe.

Finally, his wife spoke up, her voice cutting through the stillness. "How was your night, honey?"

Heeseung stared into his coffee, the steam rising in lazy spirals as his thoughts drifted back to you. He couldn’t answer honestly, couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he had spent the night consumed by thoughts of someone else. His gaze lifted, taking in the life they had built together—the home, the routines, the familiar comfort that had long since faded into dissatisfaction. And then, like a beacon in the dark, thoughts of you took hold, the possibilities of what you could build together seizing his mind.

His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts again, a touch of concern lacing her words. "I said, how was your night... did you finish that project, sweetheart?"

Heeseung met her eyes, the blank expression on his face revealing nothing of the storm brewing inside. There was no internal debate, no hesitation left in him. The answer was clear.

"I want a divorce."

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

taglist ; @aetherl0l (happy birthday!!) @llvrhee @yohanabanana @rayofsunshineeee @mitmit01 @heartheejake @melonvrs @shanb1n @jakeyismine @yunhoswrldddd @jinspinkflipphone @woorcve

authors note ; thank you everyone so much for all the love you gave the teaser! I hope you really enjoy the finished product, I spent so long trying to make sure it was perfect for you all! I look forward to producing more works for everyone!

[mulloey]

hunted • yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

yunho x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

warnings: extremely dark kinks, heavy consensual non consent (cnc), dubcon at some points though you have a safeword, internet hookups (don’t), unprotected sex (don’t), the word ‘rape’ is used, hard dom!yunho, fear play, glove kink, choking, impact play, knife play, under-negotiated kink, size kink, painful sex, sir kink, you’re referred to within the scene as a victim and a sex slave, explicit threats of bodily harm and death in the context of cnc, mind break possibly, aftercare, crying etc

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content ahead. click out if you are uncomfortable. this is not safe to do irl. hate is blocked.

-

You don’t know where else to turn.

It’s been on your mind for a while— this fantasy. This game. You don’t know why, or how, and you’d never, ever admit it, but it plagues your thoughts, day after day, haunting your dreams night after night without respite. You’re too ashamed to even say it.

You never told any of your previous partners; you’d hint, maybe, suggesting weaker, milder things to nudge them the right direction, but they always shied away, got scared about three miles south of what you actually wanted, and ran screaming. You know it’s wrong. If anything, the fact that they ran away should have been a green flag. But it wasn’t. Not to you.

You make the account around 3am. Your username is nondescript, profile photo grainy and blurred, showing just enough to attract someone who might be able to do this for you. You write the post with trembling hands; the words come easier to you than you’ll ever admit.

I want to be forced. I want to be raped. I want to be punished for resisting. I imagine a stranger, maybe one I’d only seen in passing. He can’t get enough of me. He needs me. He’ll have me. He follows me wherever I’m going, lying in wait. It doesn’t matter how much I resist. I’m going to be his. He. Will. Have. Me.

As expected, your phone is blown up by the time you check it. Hundreds of old, gross, sleazy men desperate to get a taste of your — shudder — young pussy, as one called it. You hadn’t given a specific age, just that you’re in your 20s, but they all seem content to run with the idea of you being on the lower end, rather than the higher. Perverts.

You scroll through the messages. each one confirming the rational part of your brain that says this is a stupid, dangerous idea and you should forget you ever even had it.

It’s the one at the bottom that stops you. Sent not long after you’d gone to sleep, but they’d liked the post almost instantly. The profile picture is like yours — grainy, blurred, but suggesting a toned, young-ish, large body — and he too is in his 20s, if he’s telling the truth. His message is short and respectful— a breath of fresh air.

youknowme: Nice post. Do you really want that, or do you just like imagining it?

You bite your lip. You don’t know why, but this person feels… different. Exciting. You want to know more.

rosedepths: i really want it. can you give it to me?

youknowme: I could. Would you take it all?

You chuckle— you know what he means, but you figure you’ll have some fun. See if he’s expecting a sweet, scared little doe who’ll be quick to submit; or if he’s expecting a fight. If he’s expecting you.

rosedepths: nope.

The typing button appears and disappears a few times. You assume he doesn’t like your response, and he’s not as exciting a match as you’d hoped, until his next message comes through.

youknowme: Yes, you will.

Oh, fuck. You feel yourself leaking as you read it over and over. You’re desperate to know more.

rosedepths: have you done this before? raping a stranger?

youknowme: I hope you’re talking about CNC, Rose. If you are, then yes. I have.

rosedepths: you any good at it?

youknowme: I’ve subdued much feistier things than you. I can give you what you’re asking for. Do you want it?

The need in your stomach is so profound you think you could keel over. You’ve never found it easier to type something out.

rosedepths: yes.

You talk until you sleep, and you’re optimistic about this guy. He’s careful and meticulous with your kinks and limits, guiding you through the details while still retaining the mystery and allure you’re craving. Despite your protests, he insists on a safeword, but assures you that that’s ‘the only thing in the world that will stop him.’

As you become more familiar with this site, designed solely for this purpose it seems, you see this man is… popular. To say the least. He even has what looks like a review section from other women he’s fucked and oh, there’s pictures. Not of him— but of the deep bruises and stinging cuts he’s left behind. You click through the reviews, pupils dilating the longer you stare the screen down.

He fucked me so good.

He put me in my place.

He’s brutal.

No one’s ever made me cry like that. Or cum.

When he proposes a meeting, you don’t think twice.

By the time next Friday rolls around, the knot in your stomach is a constant; it follows you around, heavy and aching as it trails behind every step. You know it’s just nerves, excitement, the thrill of knowing you’re about to do something very, very wrong. But some part of you does wonder if it’s doubt— are you being stupid? Is this a bad idea? Well, yes. You are and it is. But is it… too bad? You don’t know. As the clock ticks slowly towards your ‘appointment’, you feel more and more anxious to find out.

You clock out at 5, hurrying down the stairs of your office building to dash home. You’d prepared your bag already, shaved this morning and placed your fanciest, laciest set of lingerie under your work clothes. You take a second to freshen up, touch up your makeup and dump your work bag on your bed before you’re hurrying out the door again.

The hotel he’d booked is downtown, shiny and new and well beyond your price range. You wonder for a moment what this man does for work. Your knowledge of him is very, very limited— by design, of course. This whole game, this whole exercise hinges on him being a total stranger. But still, you can’t help but be curious. The one clue you have is the name the room was booked under— Yunho. You must have said it to yourself a thousand times; trying it out, the sound, the feeling. It tastes tantalising on your tongue and you’re bubbling with need by the time you make it to your room.

You hesitate when you reach the door. He’d told you he’d arrive later, at an undetermined time, but you can’t help but wonder. Is he in there, lying in wait? Will you open the door to find him sat on the bed, or hidden behind a corner, or, your heart races at the thought, right there on the other side? You breathe, in, out, in, out. You can do this. There’s nothing you could find on the other side of the door that you wouldn’t beg for another day.

You’re almost disappointed when you walk into the room to find it totally empty. You check the bathroom, the corners, the cupboards, half hoping to find him looming there, waiting to strike. But you don’t. You sigh, sitting down on the bed and sliding off your shoes. You’re not really sure what to do now. You suppose you could touch yourself, you doubt he’d blame you for being excited, but over the past few days, without realising you’ve found yourself almost saving yourself for him; each time your hands had wandered down there, you’d stopped yourself. He’ll take care of it.

Sighing, you decide to turn on the TV, flicking lazily through the channels until you find something that entertains you until he arrives.

With every unexplained noise, every creaking of a neighbour’s door, you look up eagerly, hoping to see Yunho looming in the doorway. But you don’t. Hours go by, your hope fading more and more, until you accept that he’s just not coming tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. You hope.

By the time you’re ready to sleep, you’ve passed several hours in front of the mindless reality show you ended up settling on. Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that Yunho hasn’t shown up today, and the fear that he never will, you turn the TV off and settle into the sheets.

He’ll come tomorrow. He has to.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you make yourself comfortable in the cool, fresh sheets. The only sounds in the quiet room are your slow, steady breaths and the low hum of the air-conditioning. As your eyes begin to droop, you feel yourself relaxing into the memory foam, wondering and hoping he’ll be there when you wake up…

Click.

There’s a hand on your mouth. The lights are on.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, adrenaline flowing instantly. The hand is large, covering your mouth and nose and you can’t breathe.

As you adjust to the light you get a good look at him, and you’re so shocked that for a moment you forget you’re supposed to struggle. Yunho is gorgeous. Fading blue hair, dark enough to seem black from a distance; features gentle, eyes dangerous and all blending perfectly together. He’s wearing a white shirt and pinstripe waistcoat that struggles against a broad, toned chest that seems to be trying to escape and his large hands are covered by a pair of thick, leather gloves.

Fuck. You’d beg for this man any other day, happily and eagerly. But you can’t do that now. You have to fight. You thrash against him, legs flailing but his body holds you down, pinning you in place and oh, he’s large, too. He could incapacitate you now and be done with it, but it seems he wants to play.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

His voice is low and rough and addictive, dripping with want and danger. He stares you down, eyes narrowed, blank, burning.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

The pressure of his hand has eased enough for you to breathe and you lie still for a moment, gauging your next move. You nod, slowly. I’ll be good.

He smiles, not really believing you, and then his hands are off you. For one second, they’re off of you and you take your chance— you jump up and bolt out of the bed, dashing in the direction of the door. You hear him curse, but you know he’d chosen this room, large enough to practically count as a suite, specifically to give you more room to run. And run you do; you’re still half-asleep — you’re not quite sure if you did fall asleep, in the end, or if he got to you just as you were drifting off — but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is enough to carry your feet towards the exit.

You hear him on your tail but he’s not running— no, his steps are leisurely, like he knows he’s going to catch you and is merely amused by your idea that it would end any other way.

He lets you get to the door and pull it halfway open, just enough to think you’ll make it out into the hall, before it slams shut in your face, only just missing your fingers where they’d lingered in the doorway. Then there’s strong arms on your body, slamming you with full force, your body colliding painfully with the heavy wood. You struggle pitifully in his hold and as the lock clicks shut above you, you hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.

“And where the fuck are you going, bitch?” He growls. He grabs your hair and tugs your head backwards, sending a painful sting through your scalp then slams your head back against the door. “You tryna get away, pretty girl?”

You grunt, pushing back against him as hard as you can, but with his firm grip on you all you manage to do is push your ass back against his crotch. He groans, the grip on your hair tightening. “Fucking tease,” he mutters. “Bet you’re wet already.”

He spins you around, holding you by the neck against the door, his body caging you in as his other hand roams across your breasts, squeezing them just short of painfully. You struggle fruitlessly but you’re completely trapped and you know it.

You feel his knee nudging at your closed legs, clenched together to keep him away from your heat as if it’s not aching for him already. “Open,” he says.

“Never.”

“Fine.” His leg draws back and lands a kick between your knees and you yelp, legs forced apart; he shoves his thigh into the gap, holding your legs open and your pussy exposed as his hand runs up your bare thigh and slips beneath the silk slip you curse yourself for wearing to bed. Could you have made this any easier for him?

His fingers tease the edge of your cotton panties, pulling it back and slapping the elastic against your skin and all you can do is stay in place, held under his weight as he toys with you. But you’re not done and this isn’t over. You’re just biding your time. You just need an opportunity; a moment of carelessness for you to slip away.

He runs a finger softly across your covered pussy, and the smug expression on his face tells you exactly what he finds there.

“For someone who doesn’t want this,” he says, “you’re awfully fucking wet.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

He’s quick to react; a heavy slap lands on your face, turning your head forcefully to the side and leaving a lingering ache.

“Wet and mouthy,” he says. “I wonder how quickly you’ll break.”

Your stomach twists but you give nothing away; you’re enjoying the back and forth, the game, too much to give up yet, no matter how desperately you want him to just fuck you alrady.

“I’ll never fucking break,” you snap.

“Oh, you’ll break.” He leans in closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “They always do.”

You can hear your heart beating wildly, pounding against your ribs and your breath stutters. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t…” He lets the words hang in the air, gaze flickering across your shivering form. His mouth curls into a thin smile. “I’ll just have to hurt you real, real bad.”

You swallow thickly, tension caught in your throat. You wish that didn’t sound so enticing.

“Now,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

You force yourself to laugh, amused despite your terror by the notion that you’d just give in and obey. You purse your lips, sealing your mouth shut— directly defiant. His eyes flash and his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow as he presses down on the sides of your neck. You manage to hold out for a few seconds until you feel your eyes bulge and you gasp, mouth opening in a desperate bid for air. He loosens his grip, grabbing your chin and pushing his thumb in just far enough to hold your mouth open for him to spit into it. The saliva lands on your tongue and he pushes your mouth closed, pressing his hand over your mouth and nose again. “Swallow.”

Knowing he won’t let you breathe until you do, you swallow the spit; it feels disgusting and degrading sliding down your throat but the humiliation burns with pleasure and you’re desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he smiles. “Not that hard to listen, is it?”

You scowl, squirming under his hold. Yes, it is that hard. You manage to wring your arms free enough to grab at his arm, trying to pull his hand off of your face. In the panic one of your nails digs into his forearm and he growls, pulling you forward just to slam you backwards again. Your ears are ringing and his hand is pressed even tighter across your mouth and nose.

“Disobedient little bitch,” he hisses, “you want me to fuck you up?”

Yes, fuck, please, your mind says. But you keep that on the inside, and instead of begging or submitting or doing any of the things your body is screaming and pleading for you to do, you bite down. You bite down hard.

The taste of blood is a small victory as he shouts, snatching his hand away from you but this time he doesn’t give you the chance to get away; you make it a few steps before he grabs your wrists, clutching them easily in his injured hand, forcing them behind you back and twisting them painfully to hold you in place so he can backhand you again— and again, and again. You scream in pain, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. His expression is livid, eyes black and burning with rage. “Fucking. Little. Bitch.” Each word is punctuated by a hard slap, knocking the wind out of you over and over.

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he growls. “Dumb little sex slave.”

The word hits you somewhere deep, stomach twisting into knots as wetness pools. Slave. Fuck.

“I’m not your fucking sex slave,” you bite back and he laughs.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are. Stop squirming.” He twists your arms a little further, teetering on the edge of too far. You whine, straining against him and he cooes. “Hurts, baby?”

“Yes it fucking hurts,” you snap.

He snorts, amused. His eyes darken again as he leans in closer. “Any more attitude and I’ll fucking break them.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, fear pushing through your veins again. His grip on your arms is iron and you know he could snap them with ease. But would he really? You say nothing, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He grins.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he laughs. “I’ll break every bone in your body if it’ll keep you pliant.”

“I’ll do it one by one,” he continues. His grip on your wrists tightens again but he doesn’t twist any further; still toeing the line. “Nice and slow so you feel it all,” he smiles, and you know he’s imagining it as he speaks. You wish you could say you weren’t. “Let you hear the crack of each bone snapping in half until you’re completely destroyed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You shake your head, voice quivering. “No.”

“Good.”

You scowl, squirming again to show your displeasure. “Let me go, Yunho.”

He hadn’t told you what to call him, but you decide to take a gamble that he doesn’t want you using his name and you’re right— he grabs your neck, pressing down hard enough to make you dizzy. “Call me that again,” he hisses, “and I’ll slit your fucking throat. Got it?”

You catch the whimper before it leaves your throat but you can’t stop your pussy from leaking even more than it already was. You didn’t know you could be so terrified or so horny. But you’re not giving up yet.

“You call me sir,” he says, “is that clear?”

You smile thinly. “Yes, sir,” you say, so sweet and polite that he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your next move and it comes in the form of a wad of spit, landing like a bullet between his eyes.

Then you’re on the bed. You’re landing on the bed, shoved down and he’s crawling over you, holding you down with his weight and— there’s a knife on your throat.

Your eyes widen, all your blood rushing to your head at once. A knife… he’d never mentioned a knife. On your profile you’d said you were open to knife play, but he was so meticulous when he went through all the kinks he was planning that you thought… Well, you didn’t think he’d have a knife.

“Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?” He grins. There’s a fire, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and you feel it in the deepest parts of your body. You feel something else, too, and it burns just as brightly as your arousal. As he presses the knife down just enough to sting, you realise you are genuinely, truly afraid of Yunho. And yet…

Yunho sees it too; “fucking gushing,” he spits. “You’re more sick than I am. Don’t act like a victim now.”

You whine, squirming slightly and he hums thoughtfully.

“Or do,” he decides. “Actually, I’m sort of hoping you don’t do what I tell you. I’d love to watch the light leave your eyes when you finally stop struggling.”

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat. You don’t… you don’t know how you feel about this. You knew he’d be intense; the reviews had painted a clear picture of just how much he feeds off of fear. But there’s a wild, uncontrolled look in his eyes as he threatens your life so casually, so smoothly, that makes you wonder…

No. You know it’s fake. It’s all fake. You know it’s just a game and you know he’d stop if you said the safe word he gave you. But the knife at your neck is real. The darkness in his eyes is real. The fear is real. And he sees it in your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile as though he can tell the exact moment you accept it. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Are you ready to listen?”

You say nothing, glowering up at him. He smiles, tilting his head.

“Open your mouth.”

Fuck no. This isn’t over. You meet his eyes with your mouth firmly, resoundingly shut. You purse your lips for good measure, determined to disobey.

His hand collides with your face again; the back of it, this time, and the feeling of his knuckles against your cheek makes you cry out before you can stop yourself. He seizes the opportunity of your parted lips and plunges two gloved fingers into your mouth. You choke, spluttering and he tuts, looking disappointed. Even with fingers in your throat, you feel like a naughty, scolded child beneath his firm gaze.

“See,” he says, his voice low, “I could make this so much worse for you. It’s in your best interest to do what I tell you.”

His fingers push in deeper and you feel the bile rising; you thrash and panic in his hold and he snorts, finally easing up. As you gasp for breath, he pulls his fingers away, a string of drool following him from your mouth and coating his fingers. He wipes them down on his pressed pants, looking disgusted. “Fucking mutt,” he spits. “Let’s put you to good use.”

Before you can register what’s happening, his dick is pushing into your mouth and fuck he’s massive. You can hardly hold him in your throat and your vision blurs with tears even before he starts to move— when he does, he wastes no time starting slow; he goes straight to fucking your mouth with hard, deep thrusts and you feel your tears and saliva cascading down onto your chest. You must look disgusting, but you’ve never heard anyone sound as feral as he does.

Just as you’re getting used to the feeling, he pulls out. His cock slaps against your face before he flips you over, bending you painfully over the edge of the bed. He doesn’t waste time prepping you — not that he needs to with the way you’re dripping — before forcing himself into your tight hole. You scream, feeling yourself being torn apart and he laughs, pushing your head into the mattress. “Fucking bitch,” he growls. His low voice is barely heard above the slapping of his skin on yours and the lewd squelching of your sopping pussy. You burn with humiliation but you can hardly think of anything but the pain of being stretched open and the force of his thrusts. You sob into the sheets but he doesn’t care, only getting rougher each time you cry out.

“Take it,” he barks, “you’ve been waiting for this dick your entire fucking life. So fucking take it.”

“S-sir,” you gasp. You thrash as much as you can under his iron grip, dizzy with pain and pleasure.

He snarls, hand landing hard on your ass. “Drop the act, bitch,” he growls. “I know you fucking love this. Clench.”

Still sobbing, you do your best to obey, clenching your pussy around his dick and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He groans, movement stuttering slightly under the new pressure on his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Such a pretty little victim. With a tight fucking hole.”

You feel his orgasm approaching; all the pent-up energy and frustration of fighting and subduing you pulsing through his dick as it pounds against your walls. His grip tightens on your waist, other arm coming to wrap around your neck, holding you in a chokehold as he finally releases inside you.

He grunts and moans through his orgasm and you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up before he finally collapses on top of you, pulling out quickly.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “It’s over, baby.”

The dam breaks. Your low, desperate sobs give way to full blown weeping, your whole body shivering with each cry. A million emotions, previously drowned out by pain and fear and pleasure, are suddenly at the surface, pushing against your skin and desperate to break through. You couldn’t name or number them if you tried but you don’t have to, because Yunho is there— his hands are on your skin, voice in your ear as he soothes you with whispered words you can’t comprehend.

“I’ve got you,” you finally make out. He says it again and again, over and over. It forms a familiar rhythm you can follow and cling to as you come back down to earth.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

He’s there when the fog clears, cradling your aching body in his arms. His smile is soft and fond but there’s a concern in his eyes as he looks you up and down. “How do you feel?” He asks.

You open your mouth but no words come; you make a soft, content-sounding noise, the best you can do for now, and he chuckles. “I’ll take that as ‘you’re fine’, then.”

He shifts slightly, adjusting you to hold you closer to his chest. You follow his heartbeat as it thuds lowly in his chest. You hadn’t expected this, really; he’d said aftercare was a non-negotiable for him, so you knew he wasn’t going to just fuck you and dip, but the care and tenderness with which he cradles and soothes you is almost as electric as the brutality of before. It’s as funny as it was, you suppose, inevitable— this man has violated you in every way, and yet you’ve never felt more safe than you do in his arms. Two separate faces; opposing but inseparable.

A while later, he asks if he can give you a bath and you nod. You’re strangely embarrassed as he lowers you into the hot water, quietly soothing you when you hiss as it touches the wounds on your ass and thighs; maybe it’s the tenderness of his care or the knowledge that every mark on your body was put there by him, but you feel oddly exposed.

Still, he’s careful as he holds you still, letting your aching joints soak as he cleanses you of the remnants of what he just did to you. When he lifts you out, wrapping you in a soft towel and carrying you back to bed, you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

Your voice returns soon enough, and quickly something pushes through to the front of your mind. Still slightly in the haze of subspace as the last drops of adrenaline dissipate, it seems like a reasonable, if not pertinent question.

“Yunho,” you say. He makes a ‘hm?’ noise, squeezing your thigh in recognition. “Would you really have broken my bones?”

He laughs, and you feel his body shaking slightly. It feels… warm. Familiar. “No,” he says. “That’s just part of the game. My favourite part, actually.”

“What part?”

“Making you wonder if it’s really a game.”

Through the aching pain of your pussy, you feel a slight twinge, making you clench unconsciously. Oh.

“You had a safeword,” he says. “So I knew I could push you. But I didn’t do anything I wasn’t sure would make your little pussy throb.”

You can’t help but blush at his words, mewling slightly as you snuggle further into his hold. You could stay like this, wrapped in his strong arms and held securely against his chest, for a long, long time. You wonder if he could, too.

“Yunho,” you say softly.

“Will you stay?”

You glance at him nervously, afraid of his answer. He smiles, holding you closer. “As long as you need,” he says.

-

thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are appreciated! requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[mocchii-writes]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

can you do a thanos fic where the reader is like weak and shy, and nam gyu thinks they're manipulating her by keeping her close, but thanos just actually really likes her

(inspired by thanos calling min su cute in that one scen)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You'll be the First Who Ever Did

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader

Summary: Nam-gyu is under the impression Thanos is using you, but he doesn't realize Thanos is just head over heels for you.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Reader gets anxiety, normal squid game stuff, not proof-read ♡

A/n: This is such a cute idea, rahh!!

~🍡🍡

You were obviously scared. As any normal person should be! It was an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. You're not a fan of unfamiliarity, so you kept to yourself. You were never one for socializing, and certainly not here, but it kind of bugged you that people thought they could walk all over you for it. Not that you would really do anything about it, nor did you want to.

But your luck seems to run dry when you're approached by someone. Someone you can only say has made quite the reputation for himself.

"Senorita, excuse me." He says. You almost don't think he's talking to you, but you turn around to see him looking right at you. You're immediately caught off guard because you've never really gotten a good look at him until now.

Thanos was actually quite attractive by your standards, so you take a moment to look at him before responding. He has pretty eyes, with dilated pupils. His hair is unique, but you can't say the purple doesn't suit him. His facial features just have harmony, y'know? Like he was sculpted by a silent artist and shared with the world.

You snap yourself back to reality after losing your train of thought for a moment. You hope he hadn't noticed your actions, but he had.

"Yeah?" You respond, almost quiet enough that he would have to lean in, but you're glad he doesn't.

"We have 4 people, care to join us?" He says, flashing a smile. You look around, almost hoping someone would swoop in and send you to outer space, but you eventually nod. His friend seems a little upset about it, but he doesn't say anything. "Great, we could use a pretty face." He says, loosely throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading the way. You don't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it was a stressful game, your team somehow made it through pretty easily. You had collected in a corner, talking about the next vote. Well, you weren't really talking, but you were listening. Nam-gyu didn't seem to like you. That was easy to notice. He told you to go around and count the remaining players, but you were quickly defended by Thanos.

"Cut it out, man. She's just sitting here, she didn't do anything wrong." He says it in a pretty funny voice, probably trying to sound cool, but you really appreciate the help anyway. You don't say anything, but you look at him and flash a small smile. He surprisingly smiles back, his features softening a bit before he moves on.

Then, a familiar buzzing is heard, and a few guards come into the room and set up the voting system. Your group had agreed to vote to stay, but you suddenly felt kind of anxious about it. You shouldn't be here, and you know it. Before you can think about it too long, though, everyone slowly shuffles out of their hiding spots, collecting at the back of the room and waiting for their numbers to be called.

Nam-gyu and Thanos both place their predicted votes, and before you know it, you hear your number.

You freeze, but feel your legs moving ahead of your thoughts. You begin to panic. You can't stay here, you know you can't. You'll die in the next game if X doesn't win, though. You'd be giving up your protection, and you know it.

You knew Thanos just saw you as a vote. You can't deny it almost hurt, but you wouldn't expect any less from him. But you also can't deny the way your stomach flipped when he playfully touched your shoulders or how your brain malfunctioned when he held your gaze a little longer than usual. You wanted him to like you, but you pushed it down. It hurt, but your heart could recover pretty quickly with just the sound of his voice.

You glance to your right, only met by the face of Nam-gyu, signaling his false confidence in you with some gesture, but you look back to the buttons, lighting your hands and face with the soft hue of light from each one. You look up to the numbers above your head and feel yourself push a button. You panic, looking down from the numbers to see the red light coating your face. Without a new patch, you quietly walk to the side of X, your mind running faster and faster as you dread the results, but they eventually come.

You lost.

You exhale, but not with relief. You can see Nam-gyu walking to you, but you look at your hands in shame. You feel a hand on your arm as you tense, biting your lip. You knew they would be mad, and you knew you did this to yourself.

"It's okay." You hear. But not from Nam-gyu. His voice is soft and reassuring, providing a strange sense of comfort. Your eyes widen as you look up quickly to see Thanos looking back at you. You're so relieved to see him, but catch yourself. He's just using you, right? You distract your eyes as you mutter an apology. You can hear Nam-gyu scoffing as he walks away, but Thanos keeps his eyes on you. "I'm not angry with you, Flower." He says. You can't tell if he's manipulating you or not, but you honestly don't want to know. You just nod and avoid his eyes. "I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here, but you know you're safe with me. Do you want to leave because you don't think I'm protecting you?"

You shake your head, looking up again. "Sorry.." Is all you can whisper, seeing him sigh and look elsewhere. You look back at your hands, and he doesn't respond for a while, just brushing his fingers against your arm, comforting you the best he can.

"C'mon, it's dinner." He eventually whispers. You look up, not realizing the time that had passed. You nod, refraining from apologizing again, and head to the line.

I might do a pt 2 to this cuz it doesn't feel complete imo, but lmk!

~🍡🍡

send requests!!

[whoreforsexymen]

This might be kind a kind of crazy request but hear me out, but feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable. So it's Jace Talis x reader SFW but it aludes to smut. Basicaly jayce wants to gets freaky with his girl or guy or whatever, but Jayce want to watch victor get freaky with the reader, Jayce's partner. I don't want to see any smut, but I just want to see the conversation go down between Jayce and Victor, of Jayce asking Victor if we would like to smash his partner and watch them lol.

Your wish is my command, darling. Sit back and let Mommy do her thing 🤍 (Also, tagging this as NSFW since it uses strong language, and heavily eludes to is directly about cucking.)

Jayce asking you to cuck him w/ Viktor | Flash

Pairings: Jayce Talis x Reader x Viktor

Pronouns: None used for Reader. Can be read as GN!!

Rating: NSFW, 18+ MDNI !!!!!

Word Count: 447

Tags: Cuckholding, Implied M/M (if you squint), Heavy implications of sex (duh), maybe slight OOC Jayce (also, if you squint), slight Sub!Jayce (if you REALLY REALLY SQUINT)

Notes: I have yet to watch S2 because I already can’t handle the heartbreak I know is waiting around the corner for me. So this is written with S1 Viktor and Jayce!!

Also, my first request!!! EEEE!! I hope you like it!! I wrote this so fast cause I was so excited and had nothing else to do hehehe xo

I ALSO KNOW YOU ASKED FOR THE CONVO TO BE BETWEEN VIKTOR AND JAYCE— WHICH ILL DO SOON, TOO, AS A PART 2!! But I liked this idea better ansjdkdkskkkkk for now!!

“…What?” You ask, bewildered.

“I know— I know it’s a weird request. But. I don’t know. I just think it would be hot to watch you… y’know… get fucked by someone else. And— I mean. It’s not like there’s anyone I trust more than Viktor—“ Jayce spoke quickly, a hint of embarrassment lacing his words as he let out a nervous chuckle, his fidgeting betraying his best efforts to exude a calm facade.

He swallowed tightly, his nerves making him feel exposed and helpless, like a child left alone in the dark.

“So. Let me get this straight. I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You want Me— And— Viktor, to fuck… While you watch?” You ask plainly.

Jayce swallowed once more, his nerves spiraling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“That is what I said… yes.” He mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. The idea itself doesn’t catch you off guard—not really. In fact, it stirs something exciting within you. It’s a little unconventional, sure, but you’re not opposed to exploring what could lie ahead for your sex life with Jayce. You might enjoy letting him take the lead most of the time, but there’s something about the way he’s dancing around this topic in particular— too nervous to be bold—that sparks a fire in your gut.

“Hmm.” You hum softly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Is it just because you wanna see your boyfriend naked~?” You tease, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you look up at him, your gaze heavy with playfulness, smoldering as always.

Jayce stammers harder than before.

“I- wh- No. Pfft. It’s just- I just-..” He can’t even continue his stammering before you kiss him. It was a soft and chaste one, yet needy in its own way, and above all—understanding.

After several long seconds, once you sense his nerves start to settle, you slowly pull away, the tension lingering in the space between you.

“We can do that.” You say softly, giving him one extra peck to the lips.

“Really?” He queries, unsure of if you’re being truthful.

You emit a gentle chuckle.

“Yes, my love… I’m open to it.” You explain, running your hands along his chest… Over his vest… and down the length of his tie. You felt him shudder beneath your wandering hands.

“Why don’t you ask Viktor, and if he’s open to it, we can try… let’s see… tonight, hmm?” You ask, leaning in and nibbling his ear ever so teasingly.

After a long pause, Jayce finally speaks again, his voice quieter now, as if weighing his words more carefully.

“I already asked him. He said yes.”

[ha-rinrin]

A Chance at Something Better

summary: Jinx's brings a little girl to your home, hoping to give her something better than what she had.

Pairing; Jinx x fem!reader ( they're married)

wordcount: 3.1k

Authors note: I saw on TikTok this one video saying that Jinx adopted a child, soo thats what I tried to do even if I have zero knowledge of whaat going on🤞🏻. If you want more married content just tell me and I'll do it, I kinda liked the idea of you and Jinx adopting a kid so, tell me if you want more of it.

masterlist

You’re in the dim glow of Jinx’s hideout, the familiar hum of metal and machinery filling the air. Her workbench is littered with tools, scraps, and half-assembled parts, each piece part of a weapon you’re carefully crafting for her—a small, sleek pistol that packs a powerful punch. The faint scent of gunpowder lingers in the room, and you can hear the quiet drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within the cavernous walls.

The two long braids and her purple eyes come into view before she does, Jinx’s shadow moving just a second ahead of her as she slips into the room. She grins, her smile sharp yet playful, watching you like she’s seen her favorite person in the world—because you know, deep down, that’s exactly what you are.

The moment Jinx steps into the room, a prickle of awareness slides down your spine. You sense another presence. Instinct kicks in before reason, and in one swift motion, you reach for a pistol on the workbench and whip around, aiming it directly at the darkened corner just beyond Jinx.

Jinx’s eyes widen as she realizes where your attention has landed, her mouth parting in surprise. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there, sharpshooter,” she says, her tone a mix of amusement and shock. She holds up her hands. “Drop the gun, okay? There’s… no need for that.”

You keep your stance firm, the pistol steady in your hand. “Why is it here?” you ask, eyes narrowed, keeping your gaze locked on the shadows in the corner.

From the darkness steps a small, timid figure, her steps cautious but curious. She’s barely up to Jinx’s hip, with wild blue hair that nearly mirrors the shade Jinx once had. The girl peers up at you, big eyes full of a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Jinx glances at her, then back at you, her expression shifting to one of guilty excitement. “She’s here,” Jinx corrects, her voice softening as she looks at the girl. “I know I was gonna… ease you into this, but, well…” She shrugs, her mischievous smile returning. “Surprise?”

You keep your gaze steady, the girl’s shy eyes darting between you and Jinx. The situation feels surreal, and though you’ve lowered the gun, the tension is far from gone.

“Jinx,” you say, voice firm, “can we talk… in private?” You emphasize the last word, giving her a look that says you’re serious.

Jinx’s grin wavers, a flash of nervousness crossing her face. She glances down at the girl, patting her shoulder gently. “Isha, stay here, alright? Just for a second.” Her voice is soothing, trying to keep the girl at ease as she leads you further back, just out of earshot.

Once you’re out of Isha’s line of sight, you cross your arms, keeping your voice low. “Jinx, we agreed… if anything this big was gonna happen, we’d talk about it first.”

Her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve, and she bites her lip, a little sheepish. “I know, I know. I just… I couldn’t leave her there. She looked so scared, y/n. Like she’d seen the worst of the Lanes in one day. I tried to picture leaving her, but… it felt too close to everything I went through.”

You sigh, the frustration melting into something softer as you watch her, seeing the hint of vulnerability she rarely lets anyone glimpse. “I understand that, Jinx. But bringing someone into our lives like this—it’s… it’s not just about a good heart, you know?”

She runs a hand through her braids, glancing down, trying to meet your eyes without completely meeting them. “Look, I know I rushed it. But she’s got nobody else. No one who understands. And if I’m honest… I thought maybe, with us, she could have a chance.” She glances up at you with a hopeful, almost pleading look

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you glance back toward Isha, then back at Jinx. “We make weapons, Jinx. Bombs. There’s nothing about our lives that screams ‘safe’ or ‘stable’ for a kid. Adding her into this… it’s not exactly ideal, you know?”

Jinx bites her lip, visibly torn but resolute. “I know what we do isn’t exactly kid-friendly, but it’s not like we’re blowing things up every single day. We’ll be careful. And… maybe she doesn’t have to see all that. We could keep that part separate. We’d figure out a way.”

You shake your head, though a small part of you understands where she’s coming from. “It’s not just about keeping her out of the crossfire. You know as well as I do that our lives are unpredictable. We’re not exactly… parental role models.”

Jinx crosses her arms, her brows drawn as she stares at the ground. “Maybe. But I think we could be. I mean, we’re not the monsters the world sees us as.” Her voice softens, barely above a whisper, “Isha deserves better than what I had. She deserves a chance. And we’ve got each other, y/n. Doesn’t that count for something?”

You let her words sink in, feeling the weight of her solve. The idea still feels overwhelming—foreign, even—but the determination in her eyes, that unbreakable hope, reminds you why you love her.

You take a deep breath, glancing from Jinx to the tools and parts scattered across the room. “Look, Jinx, we’re married, and yeah, we’ve talked about a family someday. But this?” You gesture around the hideout, with weapons and half-finished bombs lying out in the open. “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a safe space for a kid. It’s dangerous—everything about what we do is dangerous.”

Jinx’s gaze doesn’t waver, her fingers laced in yours. “I know it’s risky. But I also know we’re more than the things we make here. We’ve made a life together, y/n. Maybe it’s not perfect or normal, but it’s ours. And Isha… she could be part of that.”

You sigh, feeling her conviction but unable to shake your hesitation. “Jinx, we can’t just decide this overnight. It’s not just about us anymore.”

Her grip tightens slightly, her eyes softening. “She needs us, y/n. We can give her a place where she’s not alone, where she doesn’t have to be scared all the time. We’ve got each other… isn’t that enough to try?”

You look down at your wedding ring, feeling its weight more than usual. The decision ahead is heavy, and Jinx’s fingers tracing the edge of the ring only intensifies that feeling. She meets your gaze, her voice soft. “I know we didn’t plan this, but when I saw her, I couldn’t walk away. She’s like me… like us. And she needs someone.”

You exhale, still unsure. “I know, but we’re not exactly the perfect environment for a kid. We’re surrounded by weapons and bombs, Jinx. This life... it’s dangerous.”

Her touch lingers on your wedding ring as she looks up at you, her expression sincere. “I get that. But when I was a kid, I had Silco… and he was all I had, even if it wasn’t perfect. I thought maybe we could give her something real—something better than what I had.”

You rub your forehead, feeling the weight of it all. “It’s not just about helping her. It’s about how much it’ll change our lives. Are we ready for that?”

Jinx squeezes your hand, her voice steady. “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to give her a chance.”

You watch as Jinx’s eyes glisten, the faint shimmer of tears threatening to fall. Her usual bravado is gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. You can see the weight of her words sinking in deeper than she lets on, the fear of repeating the past, of making the wrong choice.

Without thinking, you reach out and gently cup her face in your hands, your thumb brushing away the tear that escapes the corner of her eye. The action is tender, your touch grounding both of you in the midst of the storm.

"Hey," you say softly, your voice low but firm. "We don’t have to do this perfectly. But we need to know what we’re getting into, Jinx. It’s not just about the heart—it’s about everything that comes with it. The good, the bad… and the ugly."

Jinx sniffles, nodding as she leans into your touch. “I know. I just… I don’t want her to end up like me. Like I did back then.” She swallows, her voice trembling. “I just want to give her a shot at something better.”

You hold her gaze, your hands steady as you keep her close. “You’re not alone in this,” you say again, the words sounding stronger this time. “You won’t be doing it alone. And neither will she. We’ll figure it out together. No matter what.”

Jinx’s lip quivers, but she manages to hold your gaze. “I never thought I’d have a family. Hell, I didn’t even think I could be a part of one.” Her voice cracks, but she presses on. “But when I saw her, I saw that little version of me—someone who’s been left behind, someone who just needs a place to feel safe.”

You can’t help the tightness that forms in your chest as you listen. You know she’s right. It’s like a mirror to her past, the girl standing there alone, hoping for someone to care. You pull her into you, your embrace warm and solid. “We’ll make sure she has that. Safety. Love. A chance to be something more than what this place wants her to be.”

Jinx clings to you, a quiet sob escaping her. You can feel the depth of her emotions, the mixture of fear and hope swirling within her. She’s vulnerable right now, in a way you’ve rarely seen, and it makes everything feel more real.

"I don’t know if I can do this, but I’ll try," she murmurs against your chest, her voice muffled but full of determination. "I need you by my side. I need you to help me figure this out."

You hold her tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair. "We’ll figure it out, Jinx. Together. I’m not going anywhere."

You hold her close, letting the silence wrap around you both, the weight of the conversation settling between your hearts. Jinx’s breaths come a little easier now, though you can still feel the trembling in her body. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, grounding herself in the safety of your presence.

After a moment, she pulls back slightly, enough to look up at you with those wide, purple eyes. “You really mean it, don’t you?” she asks, her voice a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere, Jinx. We’ll do this together. We’ve always figured things out, even when it’s been tough.”

She nods, her lips quivering into a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t want to fail her. I don’t want to mess this up." Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how to be a mom."

You lean in, brushing your forehead against hers, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both. "And you don’t have to know how to be one right now," you reassure her. "But you’ve got a lot of love to give. You’ve got that. And that’s a hell of a start."

She lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "I guess we’ll learn as we go, huh?" There’s a trace of her old mischief in her voice, a glimmer of that familiar spark.

"Yeah," you say, your hand gently cupping her face again, “we’ll learn. And we’ll do it together. One step at a time.”

Jinx leans into your touch, her eyes closing briefly. “I never thought this could be my life... but maybe... maybe it could be.” She looks up at you, a new kind of determination in her eyes. "I want to make sure she has a chance to be better than I was. We can give her that.”

You nod, the weight of the decision no longer feeling quite so heavy. "We will."

And for the first time, there’s a real sense of hope, something unfamiliar yet comforting, settling between you both. You kiss her forehead softly, reassuring her once more that you’re in this together—no matter what comes next.

You both stand in the silence, the hum of the hideout settling around you. The girl, Isha, is still standing a few feet away, her eyes fixed on you both, her small frame tense but not entirely withdrawn. She’s looking at Jinx one moment, then at you, almost like she’s waiting to see how you’ll react, unsure of how this new chapter will begin.

You take a cautious step toward her, the floor creaking lightly beneath your feet. Isha doesn’t move, her posture defensive, but there’s a hint of curiosity in the way her blue hair flutters slightly with every slight movement you make.

You crouch in front of her, your knees sinking just enough to meet her gaze without overwhelming her. “Hey there,” you say softly, trying to keep the tone light. “I’m not going to bite, promise.”

Isha’s eyes flicker to your face, her lips parting slightly as if weighing whether to trust you. It’s quiet for a moment, and then, after a long stretch of silence, she hesitantly reaches out, her small fingers brushing against yours.

You give her a small, encouraging smile and gently take her hand, your grip light, offering her the space she needs to pull away if she wants to. You feel the chill of her hand against your skin, the coldness of someone who’s been through too much too soon.

“You’re safe here,” you say, voice low and reassuring. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Behind you, Jinx shifts, her usual chaotic energy subdued for once, her gaze trained on the interaction. There’s a look in her eyes—part gratitude, part uncertainty—that makes you pause for a moment. She’s watching, almost as if she’s holding her breath, waiting for something.

She takes a small step closer, her voice quieter than usual. “Thanks,” she says, the words tumbling out before she can stop them, more to herself than to you. “For not running off.”

You glance over your shoulder at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. “I told you I’m not going anywhere, Jinx.” Your voice is firm, steady, grounding. “We’ll figure this out. All three of us.”

Isha’s small hand tightens in yours, a soft, tentative pressure that feels like the first sign of trust she’s given. You smile, a little more genuine this time, and shift to stand beside her, giving Jinx a glance that holds a promise.

Jinx looks back at you, her expression softening, and for the first time, you see something almost like hope flicker in her eyes. She steps up beside you, her presence a quiet reassurance to Isha.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jinx echoes, her voice quieter now. She glances at Isha, her fingers nervously twitching but keeping steady. “We’ll make sure she has a chance.”

Isha, though still cautious, seems to soften just a little in response. Her gaze shifts from you to Jinx and back again, like she’s beginning to believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s found something worth trusting.

Jinx’s eyes flicker toward the workbench, her gaze catching the sleek pistol you’d been carefully crafting. The change in her demeanor is almost immediate, the air around her crackling with a familiar energy. Her lips curl into a mischievous grin, the kind that only she could pull off. The uncertainty from moments ago seems to evaporate, replaced by a spark of excitement.

“Well, well…” she mutters, stepping over to the workbench and running her fingers along the edges of the half-assembled weapon. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

You watch her, her movements quick and sure as she inspects the weapon. “I was making it for you,” you say, your voice holding a touch of amusement. “Had to give it some personal touches.”

Her grin widens, and she picks up the gun with a careful but almost possessive gesture, weighing it in her hands. “I know, I know… You always make the best toys.” Her voice drops a little lower, a mischievous twinkle in her purple eyes. “But I could use something like this, especially if I’m gonna be a good role model.”

You raise an eyebrow, your hands resting on your hips. “Role model? Are you sure you know what that means?”

Jinx gives a playful shrug, flipping the gun in her hands and inspecting it. “Hey, maybe I don’t know everything about being a ‘good’ role model… but I’m pretty damn good at keeping people entertained.” She gives you a sly wink, her usual wild energy creeping back into her voice.

For a brief moment, the weight of the situation seems to lift as Jinx takes a shot at her old self. The chaos, the thrill—it’s all there, in her eyes, in her grin. But beneath it, there’s something different. A protective edge. She’s not just planning her next move—she’s trying to figure out how to be something else, something more.

You sigh, crossing your arms, and take in the sight of her, the wild spark still there but now tempered with something else. “Just don’t get too carried away, alright?”

Her eyes narrow in playful challenge. “Who, me? Never.”

You shake your head, but the corners of your mouth lift slightly, the tension between you easing as you watch Jinx’s usual self return, in all her unpredictable, fiery glory.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” you mutter, though it’s more affectionate than anything.

Jinx’s grin softens a bit as she looks over at you, the weapon still in hand, but her attention fully on you now. “Hey, thanks for sticking with me,” she says quietly, her voice softer than before, but the familiar edge is still there. “I know this... this is a lot. But I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment, of the decision ahead. “I know you will, Jinx. Just don’t let this turn into another one of your schemes, alright?”

Jinx’s eyes sparkle as she steps closer, her lips curling into another grin. “No promises,” she teases, then lowers her voice to something more sincere. “But I’ll try.”

[f1fantasys]

uhm so i have an idea where Lando is working out alone to release his emotions, perhaps after a bad day or bad race. but suddenly, you enter the gym, which annoys him because he wanted to be alone right now.

however, as you start working out, he kinda ogling your 🍒 and eventually decides to approach you to talk and that led to the spicy part when he starts touching you and fucked you on one of the bench using you to let out his anger 🫣 tysm!!!

THIS!! I don't feel like I've done this INCREDIBLE request justice. So someone please write a better one and tag me in it! @ccsainzleclerc5516 you would do amazing at this!

POST RACE WORKOUT

Warnings - smut!! need i say more?

2.4 words. IDK why it's so short - feel like i have writers block.

The Monaco weekend was always a fun one. Fun, but extremely busy, especially being a Sky presenter. From the Monday leading up to the weekend you'd been in and out of meetings, events, and not to mention recording and being live on air for several hours a day. But you loved it, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But now that the race and post-race shows were finally over, you still had a lot of adrenaline and energy to burn, which is why you currently found yourself walking up the stairs to the gym, wearing the tightest tights and a sports bra. It was well past midnight, but, having connections had its perks, so here you were.

You pushed open the door and stopped in your tracks. There was some distant music playing and as your eyes scanned the room you definitely weren't expecting to find Lando Norris who was currently lifting weights, shirtless, might I add. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, eyes shamelessly searching your body, but an annoyed look on his face.

''Uh, hey'' you greeted.

All he did was nod his head.

''You good?'' you couldn't help but ask at the way he was looking at you. You felt you own cheeks heat up as you gawked at his body that was riled with sweat.

''Yeah'' was all he said as he turned around and continued what he was doing.

You of course have had a lot of interaction with Lando - several interviews and social media videos which meant you'd spent quite a lot of time with him. Obviously, he was one hell of hot man, and yes, you looked, but you'd never touch. Your work was too important to get involved with any of the drivers. You'd also noticed him looking more often than not, but you never allowed your mind to go there.

As you stood there for a few minutes you couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He'd had a shitty race - mclaren had fucked his strategy, once again, and he didn't get the win. So you totally understood why he was in the gym at the time - also trying to get rid of the adrenaline.

You dragged your feet to the treadmill and hopped on, setting a medium pace, trying to focus on something else and not the half naked man across the room.

After about 15 minutes you slowed your pace down a bit, grabbing your towel to wipe the sheet of sweat over your face and arms. As you walked over to do some weights, you looked ahead in the mirror and locked eyes with Lando. He was standing drinking his water, and you watched as his eyes left yours and shamelessly looked your body up and down again. To be fair - you were swearing the skimpiest gym clothes which left nothing to the imagination.

What you didn't know was that Lando had been eye fucking you the full 15 minutes you were running. He had wanted to be alone, let out his frustration, but that changed the minute he realized it was you who walked through the door. He licked his lips as he saw how your tights wrapped around your ass so perfectly, how your boobs were bouncing and threatening to spill out of your bra, how you back muscles flexed as you ran, and how sweat covered your body making you glisten under the lights. Lando had always found you attractive to say the least, and now he was painfully hard by just watching you workout. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to you and rip your clothes off, bend you over, and rail into you.

You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your task, so you sat on the bench and started brench pressing, heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Suddenly, you saw Lando standing above you, staring down, and his own breathing just as heavy as yours.

Before you could react and say anything, he held onto the weights and pryed it out of your hands.

''Lan-'' you started, but he cut you off.

''Shh'' you said, before walking around and facing you as you sat up. He took a seat in front of you, legs on either side of the bench as yours were.

You swore you heart was beating out of your chest right now. He looked so heavenly. Bright green eyes, curls messy and sticking to his forehead. And not to mention his god-damn beautiful torso. Muscles taught and defined, with sweat dripping down, his own body shining in the lights.

''Eyes up here'' he said, smirking, catching you out for staring.

''Fuck'' you mumbled to yourself, before you looked up at him.

You felt as his hands found your waist and effortlessly slid you closer to him, and now your breaths were mingling, the heat in your body rising.

As you found yourselves in an apparent staring contest, Lando's hands started roaming your body He traced your arms up and down, your shoulders, you back, and your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped them under your sports bra, feeling up your boobs and fondling with them.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, but that was impossible with the fact that he was sitting right in front of you and touching you. Now he was rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling at and tugging them, earning himself a moan from you.

''Lando'' you panted, needing more, almost grinding yourself on the bench.

''I know baby''

The nickname gave you goosebumps, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and smile at him.

Soon after, Lando tore your bra off of you, revealing your perky boobs. He lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Biting and sucking on it before using his tongue to sooth over.

Your hands found his hair and you pulled at his curls, edging him on, begging him some more. ''Lando, please'' you said, grinding down on the bench harder than before.

He lifted his head and crashed his lips to yours. It was eager and messy, tongues clashing and spit sliding down both yours and Lando's chin. He bit on your lower lip and you felt him slide his hands through your tights to grope at your ass. By now you were cupping his face, pulling him impossibly closer. While his one hand stayed on your ass, the other slid round to your front and cupped your cunt.

The action has you arching off the bench, breath increasing ever so much as he slid his fingers through your folds, which were soaking by now - something that didn't go unnoticed by him.

''Already dripping for me, love?'' he asked, voice thick and hoarse with his British accent.

''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say, biting your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rough against your clit, which he found rather quickly.

He captured your lips with his as he thrust two fingers through your entrance, the swift movement making you tremble in his arms.

''Ride my fingers y/n'' he said between breaths.

And so you did, you rode his fingers hard and fast, and just as he curled them at just the right time, feeling you soft cushiony spot inside of you, you felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach.

No word spoken and Lando added a third finger, sending you trembling over the edge as you latched onto his shoulder for support to ride you through your orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before pulling them out and shamelessly licking them clean of you cum, moaning at the taste.

''Hmm, so fucking delicious'''he said, smirking, as you watched, mouth agape.

''Lando please'' you panted. ''Need to feel you in me'' you said, looking at him with longing eyes.

When you looked at him again, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes became ridiculously darker and the emotion he wore on his face was a mix of sudden anger and frustration.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he man handled you to lay down before he ripped your tights off of you and stood up to free himself of his constraints.

You watched as his hard cock bounced first then stood tall and angry.

''Fuck, he's big'' you thought to yourself as he placed himself between your legs.

Lando leaned down to kiss you as you took him in your hands and pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre cum around his tip.

The movement had him bucking forward, grunting into your mouth.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. ''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please. Please fuck me''

He lined himself up and wasted no time in slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Shit'' you gasped. He was definitely the biggest you'd ever had, and the sting was intense. But this was Lando Norris, and you were determined to let him have his way with you.

He finally started moving, setting a pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dug deep into his skin.

''So fucking tight, fuck y/n''

''Oh, Lando, yes, please, yes'' you cried out, unable to keep your moans at bay.

Lando continued to fuck into you while his mouth found your boobs and sucked hard at them, surely leaving purple bruises for tomorrow.

Within minutes you could feel your walls begin to clench around him, your orgasm approaching fast.

''Fuck, gonna cum Lan-'' you started but before you could finish he pulled out. You whined at him, an annoyed whine which you knew would edge him on further.

He scooped you up with such an ease, and suddenly you were flipped over and on your tummy, Lando sliding into your cunt with force again.

He bunched up your hair and pulled it tight, earning pornographic moans from your mouth straight to his ear.

''Can't win a fucking race but at least I got you begging for me'' he said through bated breaths, finally railing you the way he wanted from when you first walked in.

''Fuck Lando, you won. You won for me'' you moaned. You didn't care what the outcome of the actual race was - in your eyes, he was always a winner.

''Doing so well for me babygirl. That's tight.''

This time your orgasm gave you no warning. Hearing him call you babygirl pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering underneath him and your juices spluttering all over.

You moaned his name as you came, and if anything, he sped up his movements briefly before sliding out of you again.

This time he sat facing the mirror and pulled you up to sit down his lap, facing the mirror as well.

You immediately sank down on his now throbbing dick, setting a harsh pace as his hand snaked its way around you and settled on your throat.

''Want you to watch yourself fuck me'' he roughly whispered in your ear.

You kept your eyes on each other while you rode him, Lando's occasionally dropping down to watch how your boobs bounced up and down with each thrust.

''Fuck'' you hissed as you felt another orgasm approaching.

''Fucking me so good baby, go on. Be my slut'' he urged you to carry on.

Your movements were becoming sloppier, unable to hold yourself up and able to continue to thrust so Lando had to take matters into his own hands.

He was now fucking into you again, but at a relentless pace, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

''Together, yeah?'' he asked, his hand sliding down to toy at your clit.

You couldn't hold it in anymore. ''Fuck, Lando, now. I need to cum'' you said, as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

The room now filled with grunts and moans, swear words flying everywhere as you both reached your climax, juices spilling out of you like the end of the worlds. Lando made sure to empty his load painting your walls white with his warm splutter.

You sank back down on him, letting your weight fall back leaning on him.

You locked eyes in the mirror again, both trying to catch your breaths, sweat dripping down the both of you.

Now that he got his release, Lando couldn't help but feel ashamed at the fact that he used you. Although this was the best sex he'd had in a long time, he felt he needed to apologize, and hope he hadn't fucked up a chance at anything more.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither made any attempt to move.

''Lan-''

''Wait. Fuck. I'm sorry if I was too rough'' he said, shyly.

''What?''

''I'm sorry i called you a slut. It was a complement, actually. I just had all this adrenaline from the race. And you were there. And...Fuck, i couldn't help myself'' he was rambling.

''Lando stop.'' you said firmer than you intended to. ''I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. Did I?'' you asked.

He shook his head.

''Really, it was so fucking good, and I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you used me''

''I-What?''

''Yeah, think I needed it as much as you did'' you said.

He wrapped his arms around you holding you tighter.

''Well then I'm glad you walked through the door. Thank you'' he cooed.

You smiled at him and slowly got up, letting him slip out of you, when something dawned on you.

''You ripped my clothes, Lando! literally'' you shrieked, eyes wide and a chuckle filling the air.

He stood up and pecked your lips.

''Well then, you'll just have to come home with me'' he said, smirking, but throwing his t-shirt to you to wear.

As he watching you put it on, he couldn't help but notice the stickiness dripping out of you.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, more to himself.

''What?'' you asked, as you didn't even release he was still watching you.

He didn't say anything, instead he bent down and licked your core, collecting the mixture of both of your cum.

The action had your breath hitching, not expecting it at all. You held onto his head as he did what he did, before he stood back up and let the juice slide out of his mouth and into your, before he kissed you roughly again.

''So fucking hot. Round 2 at mines?'' he asked.

You just smiled and walked to the door, opening it while gesturing him to follow you out.

REMEMBER - requests are open!

[amomentsescape]

Reader runs behind slasher because someone else is harassing/chasing/stalking them. They don't even know they hid behind a killer for help and apologized to the killer for their awkward action of hiding behind them.

Imagine if reader is so polite that they do a apologetic bending bow.

Slashers Being the Protector (Rather than the Killer)

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

Warnings: Being chased/stalked, maybe a couple cuss words?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn't do the bow for every Slasher since I felt like it would get repetitive after a while. But I hope you enjoy either way!

Obviously, walking home alone is never your first choice, but it's not like you had an option.

Your job kept you late. And as much as you wished you could have just set some damn boundaries for yourself, you couldn't say no. You were probably the only one that actually cared about your job.

You kept a fast pace, holding your head down as to not make eye contact with anyone you passed by.

And this worked for a while. You were at a point in your journey home where you found yourself completely alone. However, there was still a part of you that felt uneasy. They always say that humans are able to tell when someone is watching them, and you were clearly no exception to this.

You finally took a deep breath and paused, mustering up the courage to look at your surroundings.

The woods were beside you, the darkness only allowing you to see a few trees at a time, but thankfully, no one seemed to be there.

Ahead of you was just more concrete and not a single street lamp in view.

And behind you... was someone.

You hadn't expected to see anyone there, but of course your luck would prove otherwise.

Your eyes widened and your breath got caught in your throat. Why were they just standing there?

Without taking your eyes off of them, you took one step backwards.

They took one forwards.

You took another step.

They did too.

It was in that moment that you knew you had to think quickly.

Should you just turn around and keep running straight ahead? No, that would prove useless. They would surely outrun you and grab ahold of you in no time.

Or should you turn and run to the woods, hiding behind trees for long enough that they give up?

You didn't like this idea much more than the first, but you figured this was probably the only option that got you out of this unharmed.

With your eyes watering and jaw clenching, you sprinted towards the woods.

You could hear their footsteps behind you, branches and leaves snapping in the distance.

They were catching up.

A sob slipped from your lips as you could feel your legs burn.

Keep pushing. Keep going.

And you did, right towards a figure in the distance.

Freddy Krueger

He could hear your sporadic heartbeat from a mile away

He was already smiling, hoping that you were about to be another easy victim

But something about your fright felt off

Someone else was after you

The moment you came into view, his smile softened a bit

You looked so desperate and scared

In any other context, he would have loved to see it, but it wasn't him making you feel this way

Plus, you weren't repulsive to him like everyone else

He could see the split second of hesitation on your face when you saw his gnarled skin and sharp gloves

But clearly that other person had spooked you more

You were already apologizing, begging for some sort of help

You weren't even six feet from Freddy when he raised his arm and a sudden thud could be heard behind you

The person who was once following you no longer had a head

You turned back to the burnt man, suddenly feeling worried that you would be next, but instead, he grabbed the side of your face

"I can't blame the guy. I would have wanted to snatch you up too," he cackled

Michael Myers

Michael raised a single brow under his mask

Clearly, you were terrified of the person chasing after you, but was seeing another large man holding a bloody knife of no concern to you?

You ran up to him, coming to an immediate stop when you saw the blade glinting back at you

"I-I need help. Please," you could barely choke out

He could tell you were trying to figure out who to be more afraid of

It's not like Michael really cared that you were being chased, but this was his territory, no one else is allowed to do his job for him

He stepped in front of you, watching as the other person slowly came to a halt

He grabbed your arm and began to drag you towards the figure

You started to cry at this, thinking he was about to give you up

Instead, his knife plunged deeply into the other person's neck, their body collapsing to the ground

You had blood splattered on you, and you could still feel the fear in your chest

You gave him a soft bow, wordlessly thanking him before stumbling back out

It was only when you heard a branch snap behind you that you turned around

He was still behind you

As you kept walking, he kept following

You really thought he'd just help you without something in return?

Jason Voorhees

He thought he killed everyone already, so how did he miss you?

How did he miss someone so cute too?

Oh, you're running towards him instead of away

This is odd

If he had been any other average sized person, you would have tackled him to the ground with how hard you collided with him

"I-I need help. Please!" you cried out, rushing behind him

He quickly took notice of the person chasing after you, them stopping in their tracks at the sight of Jason

Now, who's being hunted?

The stalker began to run the other way, not failing to notice the freshly bloodied machete like you did

However, with Jason's stride, it didn't take long for him to catch up and knock the person's head clean off in one swipe

He took a deep breath and turned back to face you, expecting you to be running for the hills

Instead, you ran up and hugged him, thanking him through your tears

You weren't... scared?

He had no idea what to do, so he just stood there while you cried into him

At least he was right about his earlier judgment

You were cute

Too cute to turn into just another victim

Thomas Hewitt

He was actually making his way towards you both

He thought you two would be good additions to tonight's menu

But the moment he saw you look at him in relief instead of terror...

Something in him shook

Before you could even say anything, he was guiding you behind him, some protective instinct overriding his usual hunter side

The person who was following put their hands up, saying that they "didn't want any trouble"

And in response, Thomas through a meat cleaver at their head

You about screamed but he turned around, looking at you softly

"I-I'm sorry. You didn't have to d-do that," you said barely above a whisper

He just shook his head and continued to watch you, some internal battle waging inside him

He really really didn't want to kill you

But what would his family think?

Only one way to find out, he supposes

With that, he hoists you up and into his arms bridal style, carrying back home

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is about three times the size of the guy chasing you

So despite the unpleasant mask, you felt like he was your only chance at safety

He tilted his head in confusion

Normally, people like you run the opposite way from him

So the moment you're in front of him, heaving and shakily explaining what's going on, he feels angry

He might be a murderous cannibal, but Mama taught him some manners

He quickly whips out the chainsaw beside him, causing you to jump at the sight

Now it was the stalker's turn to be afraid

You were left in the woods for probably 15 minutes alone, still too scared to unfreeze yourself from the spot

It was only when you saw a large figure in the distance carrying something that you finally got your bearings

Bubba walked a little past you, holding the body of the man prior

He stops for a second and looks at you, motioning his head for you to follow

And what were you going to do?

Say "no" to the man holding a chainsaw and a dead body?

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was already on edge

He never strayed this far from the mansion, and the fact that he was out this far made him feel very jumpy

So when he saw you running straight for him, he was ready to attack

Until he saw the desperation on your face

"Help! Please!" you begged him

And a cute thing like yourself would be difficult for him to deny

He saw the figure stalking after you, slowing down when they realized they had company

Brahms stepped in front of you and gave the person a challenged look

And it seemed to have worked, because the person began to back off almost immediately

He could have killed the guy, sure

But he wasn't going to be a threat anymore

Why? Because you were coming home with him

And once you're in his territory, there's no leaving

He'll make sure of it

Norman Bates

Norman wasn't even sure how he got there in the first place

All he remembers was being at home when suddenly everything went black

And now he was here, watching as some person runs up to him him in a panic

Before he could say a word, you were holding onto him, spinning yourself around so you were behind him

And that's when he saw another figure in the distance

"P-please," you suddenly croaked, "I don't know who that is. I was just walking home alone and I-"

He shushes you, his eyes still locked on the man

He could feel your head bump into his back as you bowed, muttering apologies to him

"It's okay," he reassured. "They're not going to do anything."

His brows furrowed as his face twitched

Maybe it was your cute panicked face, or the way your soft hands were gripping his back

But either way, Norman could feel his conscious fading out

He won't hurt you, though the same can't be said for the other person

He just hopes you'll still be there when he comes to

Billy Loomis

You were terrified, that was obvious

But he was honestly surprised that you seemed more scared of a random weirdo behind you than the notorious serial killer straight ahead

You grabbed his arm, not failing to notice the sharp blade in his dominant hand

"I-if you're going to kill me," you gulped, "Then fine, but can you please kill them first?" you motioned

This may have been an odd suggestion to most, but the worst Ghostface was going to do was stab you, but you had no idea what the other person's intentions were

The creep was only a few feet away now, their hand also donning a sharp blade

Billy wouldn't have normally entertained such an idea, but he knew you from school

And God, were you pretty

"Shit," he whispered

He twirled the knife around as he approached the figure, the latter already stepping back

It was an easy kill, and Billy was back to your side in no time

"Thank you," you bowed, head down and awaiting your fate

Instead, he grabbed your chin and made you look at his mask

He couldn't wait to see you at school the next day

Stu Macher

He could see you freeze the moment you were in sight

The Ghostface attire was already pretty notorious in the town, and he could see the worry on your face at the realization

And clearly, the person chasing you also felt the same, because the moment they saw him, they ran off the other direction

Tears began to stream down your face at this

Although, he couldn't tell if they were from relief or fear at that point

He stepped a little closer to you as you stumbled back

"P-please, don't, I-"

He dropped his knife and reached out to you in response

You shakily took his hand, obviously scared of what he was going to do

But he simply began walking you out of the woods, checking around for the creep

He walked you all the way home before giving you a small wave and running off, leaving you completely dumbfounded

He spared you?

It took you a few days afterwards to almost forget about the situation

Until you turned on the news

There was a report of a dead body found in the same woods you were just in a couple nights before

Another apparent criminal from the area...

You gulped, realizing it was your stalker as the phone suddenly rang

"Unknown caller"

Huh, weird

Vincent Sinclair

Bo somehow got him to leave that musty old building

But of course, he ran off to God knows where and left Vincent alone

So the moment he saw your figure sprinting closer, he assumed that Bo would be the one to follow

However, he quickly noticed that the man behind you was not his brother, and he suddenly felt dumbfounded on what to do

Bo would surely be pissed, but something about you told him you shouldn't become just another wax figure in his collection

So the moment you were close enough, he was stepping in front of you, some newfound confidence leading him

The stalker hesitated for a moment before finally stumbling back, leaving the two of you alone

"Thank you, thank you!" you repeated, your head instinctively shifting downwards

Vincent took a deep breath in while looking at you

Yep, Bo was definitely going to be angry

But oh well

You were just too sweet to let go stale

Bo Sinclair

He could hear your erratic footsteps rushing closer to him

And unlike most of the others on this list, he comes off as a seemingly normal guy, so of course you wouldn't hesitate to go to him

His cocky smile only widens when he gets a look at your face

A mighty cute thing, you are

"Excuse me? Sir, I think I'm being followed and-" your voice cracked

How precious

Surely too pretty and too soft to be made into hard wax, hmm?

He steps towards you, and you think he's about to help you

But no

He grabs ahold of your shirt tightly, muttering some smooth nonsense to your stalker about finding "a good place for this one"

Tears begin to stream down you face

How could you have so blindly trusted a stranger?

He leads the both of you back to some empty building that you assume will be the last place you'll be alive

But the moment Bo turns back around, a pipe is swung into the other man's head

He'd be a great addition to the museum

You turn to your "savior" in confusion

"Can't let a pretty thing like you go to waste, huh darlin'?"

All you can do is tilt your head down in a silent "thank you"