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hxney-lemcn · 7 months ago

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Affection — NRC Students x gn! reader

summery: what is being affectionate with your fav like?

tw: bad parents (Riddle, Leona (?), Jamil (?)), angsty (Riddle, Leona, Ruggie (kinda), Jamil, Idia, Ortho, Malleus (kinda)).

a/n: A lot of these are based on my own headcanons (Jade).

wc: 2.6k (~100 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Growing up his mother didn’t give him much affection. He wasn’t treated like a child, more like a trophy. Something you keep just out of reach, something you only lay your eyes on. Riddle is terribly touch starved and doesn’t know it. So when you start showing him acts of affection he has no idea how to handle it. What does he do? When is it okay to do these acts? Don’t mind how stiff he is when you hug him or how red he turns if you hold hands. It's something he’s never felt before, and you have unlocked something deep inside Riddle that had been tucked away. So please, give him another hug would you? It helps slowly heal something in him he didn’t know was broken.

❥ Trey Clover

Trey is a total sweetheart. He doesn’t mind affection at all. Growing up with siblings, he’s used to hugging and hand holding. Whether you're affectionate out the gate or need a little coaxing, it's like Trey instinctively knows. He’ll ask before doing anything, asking for consent, getting to know your boundaries. If you don’t like affection, that’s fine with him, if you only like being affectionate behind closed doors he doesn’t mind. Just know that Trey loves any and all forms of affection you show him, no matter how big or little. He cherishes you, and he’ll show you that in any form you prefer.

❥ Cater Diamond

We all know Cater doesn’t mind hanging off you out in public. Hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, you name it, he’s probably done it. What he doesn’t want people knowing is how tiring it is for him to keep up that facade. Although, when it comes to you he doesn’t even register half the things he does. You’re like a magnet that pulls him in. Though, his favorite forms of affection are behind closed doors, just the two of you, no camera. Whether it be you two existing in the same room, or you laying on his chest or vice versa, those are his favorite moments. He doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to put on a mask to make others happy because he is happy with you.

❥ Deuce Spade

Even though Deuce’s mom has showered him with affection growing up, he’s still shy about it. His image before was a punk, and now he’s trying to be an honor student. So if you ever hug him or try to hold his hand his face will flame up and he won’t be able to meet your eyes. He’s a gentleman though, through and through. Always makes sure you're comfortable even if you’re the one who initiated. He’s not too picky when it comes to affection…but he does prefer if you do it behind closed doors. He loves your kisses, but he doesn't love Ace teasing him about it.

❥ Ace Trappola

Oh boy. Ace is a little gremlin. He acts like your affection doesn’t do anything, acts all smug like you're lucky for being able to hold his hand. All the while his mind is melting and the bright blush on his face gives his true feelings away. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly touch starved, but he does crave your affection. When he became a teen he stopped hugging his parents ‘cus his brother would make fun of him otherwise. He crafted his unbothered persona, and didn’t realize how much he missed hugging until you gave him one. He rarely initiates, but sometimes he crumbles.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

He’s another one who didn’t grow up with much affection, always watching as his older brother Falena got all the praise. He’s bitter, seeing affection as a weakness, like showing your underbelly to your predator. Being soft got you nowhere in the animal kingdom…but he did enjoy it when you played with his hair or kissed his cheek. It left an odd warm feeling to fill him, making him grumble about your idiocy. Deep down, he was scared about how much he enjoyed your affection, scared he’d be upstaged once more and you’d find someone else to love. So he’ll just make sure that doesn’t happen, ‘cus there’s no one better than him after all.

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

Where he’s from, showing affection is like putting a target on your back. It shows a weakness that someone could take advantage of. This is why Ruggie is so skittish at first, always making an excuse to run away if you go to hug him, your hands brush and he’s lifting his hands up to his head (y’know that one position). But once he warms up, realizes you won’t snatch his food and run like a thief, he finds himself enjoying your embrace. It’s like heaven to lay his head in your lap as you feed him an orange. How your hands trace his face so lovingly, like trash like him is actually worth something.

❥ Jack Howl

Jack is a bit awkward when it comes to affection. He’s closed off, but his tough personality does melt away to reveal a heart of gold. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand, just please don’t mention the pink that tints his cheeks. He does enjoy when it's just the two of you, he feels more relaxed, like he can actually take in your warmth. His hugs might be a bit uncomfortable with all that muscle, but don’t tell him that ‘cus he might stop hugging you then :( On the bright side, you could sit on his back while he does push ups :)

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

This guy…you can’t even compliment him without him running away at first. Although Azul’s mom was almost over affectionate, he’s another one that gets shy at the thought of anything affectionate. He was ridiculed growing up, which made him sharpen his edges. He has a persona to uphold, he can’t be…clingy…oh is he clingy. Out in public it's only small acts, holding hands, hand resting on your lower back, kiss to the back of your hand. In private is a whole other story. Loves hugs, cuddling, kisses, staring at you. Azul doesn’t get much alone time, so the moments you have together behind closed doors he likes to use to his full advantage. Can you blame him? You looked so lovely all day, do you know how terrible it was to watch you without giving you a kiss?

❥ Jade Leech

Doesn’t really need affection, but finds it cute when you seek him out. He loves you, yes, but affection isn’t really his forte. He won’t deny you a kiss though, especially not when you pout so cutely. Jade’s more of a tease, due to the fact that he doesn’t mind a lack of affection, he finds it hilarious to watch you long for it. He’ll brush his hand against yours, but won’t hold it. He’ll lean in close to your face only to whisper in your ear. He’ll gently brush his fingers over your cheek…only to pinch it. But if you're feeling down, he won’t hesitate to whisk you somewhere private and hold you close. He does love you after all.

❥ Floyd Leech

Another oh boy. His ‘affection’ can seem less like affection and more like torture. He won’t go easy on you either. In fact, he’ll probably squeeze you tighter due to his cute aggression. Floyd, unlike Jade, loves, loves, loves hugging, holding, squeezing. Then you opened him to the world of kissing, biting. Good luck with that. Most of the time he’s all over you, in public or in private, he doesn’t care, if he wants to nibble on you he’s gonna nibble on you. If you’re uncomfy with that he’ll try to tone it down (will he?), but he will probably forget and do it anyway. If he’s in a sour mood he won’t seek out affection, but if you do the right thing it might make him feel a little better…but be careful.

❥ Kalim Al Asim

He gives so many hugs it makes Jamil want to bash his head in. Do you know how many ways Kalim could get killed with how trusting he is? Expect hugs, hand holding, pulling, cheek kisses, and giggling. He’s not afraid to show the world how much he loves you, and he loves affection! When you show him affection though…get ready for a giggly, blushy, kicking his feet in the air Kalim. He’s so used to being the one giving affection he forgot what it's like to receive it. Yeah a lot of his siblings love him…but a lot have also tried to assassinate him so… Jamil finds you to be a double edged sword, as you tend to keep Kalim reigned in…but he also goes crazy over you.

❥ Jamil Viper

Does not like it. Not at first. It takes a lot to earn his trust, and growing up he didn’t get much affection if any. So he doesn’t like it, it's a foreign feeling and it's just too much for him. Though gradually, he finds himself thinking about your touch, the way your fingers felt as your hands brushed, or wondering how soft it would be to hug you. He curses himself for becoming so weak, but those curses quiet down the second your arms hold him so sweetly. No pda, none whatsoever. But behind closed doors he's more willing to give in to your tender touches (not that he’d admit it).

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil is picky about affection. There’s certain things that you can and can’t do during certain times. With the media always on his back, you can never be too careful about pda. He doesn’t want the world to hound you about your relationship with him, so he tends to keep things behind closed doors. He shows his affection in other ways to compensate, whether it be picking out your outfit or fixing your hair. He has become your personal stylist and you should be thankful. When it's just the two of you though, he becomes such a sap. Holds you so sweetly, trails of kisses, murmurs sweet nothings into your hair. Vil loves you and he won’t let you think otherwise.

❥ Rook Hunt

When doesn’t he show you affection? Flowery words trail after you as you walk to class. Kisses to the back of your hand trail up your arm. No one can outcompete Rook when it comes to admiring you. You could kill a man and he’d be singing your praises while hiding all evidence for you. What's surprising is how he acts when it's just you two alone. Although he is sincere with his usual flowery words, it feels more intimate when you both are alone. When he’s holding your close, staring at you so lovingly, whispering how much you mean to him? I get it Rook lovers, I’ve finally gotten it.

❥ Epel Felmier

Nuh-uh. Affection? That’s for losers! Don’t ask about how loving his grandparents are. Blushes profusely at even the smallest act and then scolds you. He’s a manly man and manly men don’t cuddle! Off topic but I’d love to go on a rant about toxic masculinity and how those stereotypes hurt men more and see how he reacts. Epel warms up to affection quickly, but only if he initiates in public. When it's just you two he’s more chill about it. Resting your head on his shoulder, having you wrap your arms around his, placing a kiss on his forehead—don’t tell anyone that last one…

❥ Idia Shroud

Poor, poor Idia. He only knows affection from Ortho, and after Ortho…once he became a technomantic humanoid Idia couldn’t hug him anymore. It reminded him that Ortho wasn’t…yeah so let's just say Idia is hella touch starved due to self isolation. So you have to slowly bring him out of his shell, revealing that old wound he’s left to fester and tending to it so gently. He can’t help but shiver every time you run your hands through his hair, or when you kiss his temple, or when your body heat seeps into him. Over time he comes to crave your affection, seeking you out but never outright stating what he wanted. Thankfully for him you always seemed to know what he needed.

❥ Ortho Shroud

This poor boy pt 2. After he was created he didn’t really experience physical affection. With his bulky bodies and being made from metal, he wasn’t comfortable to hug. Ortho never thought about it much, although he was curious what affection felt like. So when you hugged him without a second thought he almost cried (if he could). Soaks up your affection like a sponge and reciprocates tenfold. He now hugs you as a greeting and holds your hand when you both are going somewhere. He can’t help it! Who knew affection was so nice! And since you're willing, he’ll always come to you if he needs someone to lean on.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus knows of affection, but being the future king of Briar Valley and extremely powerful he only knows affection through Lilia and his grandmother. Lilia was super loving, don’t get me wrong, but Malleus could never shake that feeling of loneliness. The way people avoid him, how he’s always out of reach. Yet you…you were willing to listen to him and accompany him. So when you even touched him, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t well versed in means of affection, and human affection seemed even more strange. You didn’t just hold his hand, you’d lean on him, you wouldn’t just kiss his cheek, you’d boop him afterwards. Yet he thrived with anything you’d give him. Malleus is content with watching you eagerly, waiting for the next form of affection you’d show him.

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia isn’t afraid to show his affection, and more often than not it leaves his subordinates (children) embarrassed. So when you came along, you had become his willing victim. He shows his affection in less conventional ways. His favorite is scaring you, popping out at random like he was trying to put you into cardiac arrest. But he makes up for it by kissing your nose after. He’ll also cook for you…I pray for your sanity because he can be really sweet but it comes in underhanded ways. If you eat his food he’ll be over the moon…if you don’t he’ll pout. It’s up to you if you want to live or not.

❥ Silver Vanrouge

Growing up under Lilia’s wing did him some favors. He’s not against affection, he just never thought about it too much. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand or if you kiss his cheek. His favorite is when you both cuddle. He’s a sleepy guy, so naturally this is the most common form of affection you both share. Even the animals will join you two. When he isn’t sleeping though, he’ll give you kisses on the back of your hand, guide you around, he’s your personal knight now. Although he does feel bad that he has to leave you a lot for his duty, he’ll always try to make it up to you at the end of the day.

❥ Sebek Zigvolt

Nope. No affection allowed. Your eardrums will be shattered if you try. He’s another one who has to warm up to it. His parents are super loving, and he’s used to his mom always hugging him…but he stopped all that nonsense because he has to give his all to his Waka-sama. Sebek is so intense in his worship of Malleus he finds it indecent to even think of anything romantic/affectionate with you. But when you break him down, when you hug him so sweetly or kiss his cheek so softly…yeah he’s a goner. Deep down he craves for your affection, he loves it to a point it scares him. He felt his heart crack when he denied you once, the guilt in your eyes leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. He supposes he’ll allow you to hug him, but he’s still got a reputation to uphold.

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simpjaes · 11 months ago

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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”

You shrug.

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys.

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.”

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”

Offense taken.

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.

“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

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reidrum · 6 months ago

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the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction

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deathbxnny · 1 month ago

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Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

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uravitypng · 2 months ago

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incubus satoru gojo x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: somnophilia + possessive

word count: 950+ words / mdni ! 18+ reader is completely unaware of gojo's existance, she's either a heavy sleeper or takes sleeping pills, your choice sdfgahjkfcvgmbah

this isn't what he should be doing. he knows it. incubuses don't obsess over one women, yet satoru is here again watching you. it's been months since he's feed of of anyone else, no one can sate his appetite like you can.

he's been with plenty of women and men before who he used to deem worthy but now the idea of feeding from someone else leaves a fowl taste in his mouth. he craves you. whenever gojo isn't with you he aches for you.

there are some things he'd never voice out loud but he wishes one day to hear you moan his name. previously he's been able to get people to whine and moan is name when invading their dreams or just playing with them but you're such a deep sleeper he can't get any words out of you, no matter how hard he tries and how many times he'll push his cock into you, the best being a few, close to silent, whimpers. he wants to hear you. but he also worries, what if someone came in and you didn't wake up... what if he didn't show up one night but another incubus did, lured in by your scent, what if they hurt you, not caring about making you feel good.

he'll make you feel good though. he'll touch you and groan, making sinful noises and comments, it doesn't matter that you won't hear them. satoru loses himself in you.

tonight you're wearing only a nightie, nothing else, 'such a sweet little thing, always so good for me, knows who she belongs too and who makes her feel good.' he's never had such possessive thoughts before, he never cared if whoever he feed from was single or married or dating, it didn't concern him but you're his.

rubbing the head of his fat cock against your pussy lips he groans and sinks his fingers into your wide hips before sinking into your pussy, cursing when he's fully into you and he can feel you fluttering around him. his blue eyes are half lidded, mesmerised, watching your breathing increase and your mouth to partially open. satoru moves slowly, working the both of you up. he rocks into you gently and squeezes your hip dips making you stay where you are and not move too far up on the bed away from him.

his pace soon quickens as he feels you get wetter and wetter and it becomes harder not to thrust into you hard and fast. satoru starts panting and lifts up your nightie, staring at your breasts move freely and bounce with each thrust.

"you take my cock so well sweetheart, you were made for me. you're so wet baby it's dripping down on the bedsheets and covering both of our thighs. you're just so messy aren't you baby? so soft. so pliant. such a good girl." he groans louder than he has all night and grabs both of your breasts with his hands, "this pussy is mine isn't it baby? don't ever keep it from me." his hips stutter and he knows he's close, he never lasts long with you but it's okay with his stamina because he can keep going again and again all night long.

satoru wants to feel you come around before he comes in you. he brings up his tail and flicks it against your clit, with every flick your body trembles slightly and your breath hitches pitch, unnoticeable to most but not to gojo as he commits every movement and sound to memory that comes out of you.

he kisses you everywhere he can, some innocent and some less so. kissing your round cheeks and nose, before taking advantage of your mouth being open, playfully kissing your bottom and top lip before pressing his mouth against yours and moves his tongue against yours, kissing you until his cheeks are pink and his lips are swollen. the kiss so messy that droll and spit make its way down to dripping down your soft jaw.

he pouts when he remembers that he can't leave marks on you and hopes to change that soon but he lightens up as he feels your pussy flutter around him, getting closer and closer. his pout turns into a grin as he looks at you, you look ruined, a perfect picture for him, swollen lips, hard nipples and trembly thick thighs.

as you come you stay asleep still. a little body tremor and voice louder than he's ever heard from you before. from anyone else satoru would tease and say it was a small, almost pathetic, whine but from you? he's basking in the noise, and coming in you immediately after hearing you, moaning loudly and praises you for how good you were and how you made such pretty noises for him.

he presses his sweaty forehead against yours, and places a kiss. "round two, sweetheart."

some nights when your windows and curtains are closed and you're wearing more clothes than normal, covered in blankets he won't touch you, not in the way incubuses should. he wouldn't want his precious human to get cold. on those nights he'll lift up the covers sliding in next to you and holding you close. incubuses can't feed off just any physical contact it has to be sexual but he feigns ignorance to that pretending to himself that he still can feed off you like this.

on those colder nights he'll drape his arm around your chubby stomach and cover your body with his black wing, shielding you from any draughts from your poorly insulated home. he'll press his cheek to your back and nuzzle you, while curling his forked tail around your ankle. those are some of his favourite nights.

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hyunniesgirl · 10 months ago

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Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: Lee Minho is unreachable, someone you can only just dream of being with. Until one day, you enter the wrong door at a party and ends up with him inviting you to sit on his lap.

Part 2

THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: corruption kink, protected piv, fingering, Minho is kinda possessive.

You're okay with not being popular, it's not like you'll be like that forever, it's just college and in a few years everything will be forgotten so you just keep living your life, going to your classes and hanging out with your best friend.

The only time you ever wish you were popular, though, is when you see him. Lee Minho. The guy of your dreams. He's vice president of the greatest fraternity on campus, so everyone knows him.

Lee Minho is someone mysterious, no one knows much about him other than that he changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. So more than half of the girls in this university already had their heart broken by him.

That doesn't make you like him less though, it's not like something will ever happen between you two so a little crush on him is not something to worry about, even more so when he doesn't even know about your existence.

Your best friend, Jihyo is the opposite of you, she likes partying and she always tries to drag you to one of her nights out. That's how you ended up in the situation you're in right now. Alone in the kitchen of a frat house, listening to a drunk guy teaching you about your own major, while sipping on a drink you're not even sure about the contents.

You watch as a group of people play beer pong on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, everyone is sweating and there's alcohol being spilled all over the place. You're at a safe distance but you pity the person who's going to clean this up later on.

You have no idea where Jihyo went, she told you she was going to the bathroom half an hour ago and never came back. You're tired of hearing this guy too, he's talking about first year contents when you're already in your third year.

“That's so interesting”, you smile at him, “but I have to go find my friend now”, you don't let him say a word, quickly sneaking away from the kitchen.

You look around, trying to find your best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's on the second floor, you ask people and they tell you exactly where the bathroom is. However, you shouldn't be so quick as to trust drunk people.

Because when you open the door people pointed out as the bathroom, you find a room with red lights brightening the dark space.

There's a bed in the middle of the room and in that bed there's a couple and that couple happens to be Lee Minho and someone you have no idea who it is. They are luckily not in a compromising position, not making out or something worse. She's just sitting on his lap, having her giggles stopped by the bright light that comes from the door when you open it.

Your eyes grow wide when Minho looks at you with his fierce unfriendly eyes.

“Hm- I'm- sorry, I thought this was the bathroom”, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting on your feet.

Minho looks at you up and down and you swear you can see a smirk forming on his lips, but you're not sure since the light is not great.

“I guess the sign with my name on the wall is not very visible”, he points out dryly, making your face turn red. Great, that's great. Nice way to be humiliated by your crush, y/n.

“I apologize, I really didn't see it”, you say again. You should already have gotten out of there but for some reason it seems that your feet are stuck on the ground.

“Honey, why don't you go downstairs, I'll talk to you later”, Minho says to the girl on his lap, making her groan in frustration. She gets up, angrily walking past you. “You should close the door if you're going to stay”, he tells you and your feet finally move just enough to be able to close the door with you still inside.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask like an idiot.

“I live here”, he says obviously, “but I don't think you're still looking for the bathroom”, he grins, seeing you lick your lips. “Why don't you come and take a seat?”

Your legs move on it's own once more, giving slow unsure steps in his direction. You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully as he leans back, supporting his upper body on his hands, arms spread on the mattress.

He stares at you, surprised. Minho chuckles, shaking his head.

“That's not what I was talking about”, he tells you, landing his hand on his thigh and tapping there. “Why don't you try sitting here?” He asks.

You feel your whole body turning hot, why is he asking for you to sit on his lap?

“I-I should get going”, you stand up fast, but before you can walk away he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Minho tilts his head, waiting for your answer.

No, that's not what you want. You really, really want to sit on his lap and let him do anything he wants with you. So you give in to your desires, stepping closer to him and bending down to sit on his thigh.

He bites on his bottom lip, watching you fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. By the way you're stiff, it's obvious you have never done this before and that gets him excited.

He corrects his posture, sitting with his chest close to you. One of his hands lands on your left thigh and the other goes to your waist.

Minho doesn't need to waste another second to find out that he likes you. You're just his type, shy and reserved, someone who he can corrupt. Someone who can make him go absolutely crazy.

“You see, I see the way you look at me”, he says, caressing your back with the hand he had on your waist. “Jihyo is not very quiet and every time she catches my attention you're there and every time I look at you, you're looking at me”, he says, like he's saying something you don't know. “After some time I just came to the conclusion that you may like me. Am I right about that?”

You nod automatically, like you're obligated to tell him the truth. Maybe your brain just doesn't work when you're near him.

“Hmm”, Minho hums, “tell me then, what can you do for me?”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask, getting goosebumps with every touch of his.

“I mean to say, why should I choose you? I have a great number of options”, he smirks. He's teasing now, even though he's already set on making you his, he just wants to hear your answer.

You have so many things to use at your advantage, pretty lips that he wants to kiss, soft skin that he wants to leave marks all over and the sweetest voice that he wants to hear crying his name while he fucks you so deeply you'll beg him to keep going.

“Anything”, you gulp, “you can do anything you want with me, I'm entirely yours”, and that is better than anything else he could hear. That is the last straw.

Minho puts his hand behind your neck, pulling you to him and kissing you in a hungry, hot kiss. He grabs your hair with the other hand, pulling a handful and making you groan with the sudden pain but it's still so good. His tongue brushes on your lips, entering your mouth and slightly caressing yours. The way he's grabbing you is just too much, you feel like you're going to explode at any moment.

Minho lets go of you for a moment just to take his shirt off, showing you his bare chest. He gets back on grabbing you, pressing you against his body. You're not sure if this is right but it definitely doesn't feel wrong.

You take your crop top off, throw it on the floor and pray that Jihyo will forgive you for doing that with her clothes. Wrapping your arms around Minho's neck, you kiss him again, feeling his bulge beneath you.

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your panties to the side as soon as he manages to reach your soaking cunt.

Minho presses a finger on your clit, you stop the kiss just to gasp and he pulls away, staring at you while he inserts a finger between your folds.

“Has anyone ever fingered you?” He whispers, listening to your low moans, you're cute trying to hold back.

You open your eyes to look at him, shaking your head. That's beautiful, he gets even more excited to know he's the first one giving you pleasure like that.

“And what about sex, have you had it before?” He asks one more question, pushing his finger in and out of you.

“A-a few times”, you struggle to say, feeling your cheeks hot.

“That's good, virgins aren't really my thing”, he smirks, “then, you can handle one more finger, right?” He asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing in another finger inside of you.

“Oh”, it's the only sound you can make. You hold him harder, with your mind dizzy. “It's too much”, you sob, feeling the stretch, it burns a bit but it's so good.

“Oh, Kitten”, he pouts. “How are you supposed to handle my cock if you can't handle two fingers? I'm bigger than that”, he smirks while saying that.

“I can do it, I can”, you nod frantically, too drunk on the pleasure of his fingers inside you to think straight.

“I'm glad you're confident”, he takes his fingers out of you and takes them to his mouth, liking every drop of your juice. “Your taste might be my new favorite”

He helps you get up, your legs are weak even though you didn't cum. Minho helps you lie on the bed, pulling your jeans down, trailing kisses down your legs while dragging out the fabric.

“You are pretty”, he mutters, taking off his pants and underwear, crawling back to stay on top of you, kissing your chest and your collarbone, biting on the skin and leaving a couple of hickeys there. Minho goes down your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples, kneading at the other with his hand. He's humping on your leg, rubbing his hard cock on your thigh.

His touch makes you feel like you're on fire, tingling sensations spreading all over your body. His kisses leave you so turned on, you don't think you ever felt this horny.

“Kitten”, he calls you, making you blush. It's crazy to think that even though you two are naked in front of each other, him calling you a pet name is what makes you flustered.

Minho gives you a peck on the lips, leaning over to the bedside table to look for a condom. He opens the package with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic and stroking his cock on hand.

He looks so good, standing on his knees in between your legs, eyes closed feeling his fist caressing him.

“Let me do it”, you take the courage to say, sitting and taking the package out of his mouth into your hands. Minho watches you attentively as you grab the base of his cock, sliding the condom down his length.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, grabbing your face on his hands and kissing you so hard you can taste blood, not sure from which of you.

Minho positions himself in your entrance, looking at you to wait for your consent and when you nod he pushes in. You wrap your legs around his hips, trying to bring him closer even though it hurts a bit, it's so good you think you will go crazy.

“M-minho”, you moan, throwing your arms around his waist, digging your nails on his skin.

“Shit, you're perfect”, he starts moving, each trust making you moan louder. Your walls are squeezing him so deliciously that he can cum at any moment. His cock feels so good, reaching all the places you didn't even know existed.

Minho kisses you, fucking into you so fast you can barely breath. You never thought he could be even more beautiful, hair stuck on his sweaty forehead, eyes staring intensely at yours, bottom lip stuck between his teeth while he fucks you senseless. He leans closer, kissing your neck, leaving a long and a bit painful mark there.

“You're mine now”, he smiles shakily, clearly close to his release. You can feel your orgasm approaching too, cumming and tightening your legs around his hips, making his release follow yours.

Minho gives you a kiss before falling to your side, breathing heavily accompanied by you. You don't know what to say and you're scared he'll pretend this was nothing so you get up, collecting your things, not waiting for him to kick you out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, scowling.

“Getting dressed so I can get out”, you explain naively, being watched by him like you're the prey and he is the predator.

“What part of “you're mine now”, you didn't understand?” He asks, laying down with an arm beneath his head and the other stretched to the side of the bed, waiting for you to lie there. “Come back here, I'm not even nearly done with you”, he smirks, watching you blush again.

You drop the clothes you have collected, crawling back on the bed and snuggling close to him. Minho pulls you closer, turning to you and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I'll tell you what we're gonna do”, he explains and you nod, “I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name and after that I'll take you out to dinner”

Lee Know presses his body on yours, showing you that his cock is already hardening again and you giggle, blushing once more.

Never have you felt so happy to trust drunk people's instructions.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

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exeggcute · 3 months ago

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the leaked mrbeast production doc kills me because like, for better or worse, this guy clearly has his shit down to a science. he knows exactly what game he's playing and he knows how to play to win. the actual doc is structured well, communicates its ideas clearly, but also was thrown together by a youtube guy who paid no attention to visual formatting or proofreading. and yet as much as I hate to say it, stuff like this is actually great and widely applicable advice:

What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet. Chris Tyson (our first subscriber and the guy in the videos) is a wonderful example of an information diet being used to perfection. The dude is funny as fuck. I’ve never met anyone in my entire life that can make people laugh like he can and I never understood why he was so good at it until I lived with him for a few years. The dude watches an obscene amount of cartoons and stupid shit. His eyeballs exsist to inhail copious amounts of just goofy, dumb, and brain numbing content. And as a result he can quote almost any line from any episode of spongebob. He’s able to draw from so much stupid shit in his head as inspiration to make jokes and be quirky. As a result he is fucken hilarious. But let’s imagine a different Chris, let’s say instead of cartoons and stupid shit, his information diet was stocks and investing advice. And for 5 years that’s all he consumed. Do you think he’d be just as funny as he currently is? No. He in my opinion wouldn’t even be 20% as funny. If you’re a writer or director you really need to monitor and perfect your information diet. If your diet is not correct, you won’t have a good pulse on culture. I don’t want you to be a chris, in fact, I think that would probably do you harm. Talent needs to inhale cartoons so they can be funny, writers need to inhale inspiration. Let’s say there is a purple fruit in the middle of Australia that when eaten makes you 2 feet taller. If it truly did exist, you wouldn’t have known that until just right now. But now that you know of it, you can draw on it for inspiration for every piece of content you write going forward. That’s beautiful, it can now sit in the back of your mind waiting for that one video where it is needed. It might take 10 videos or even 100 but eventually you’ll be brainstorming a bit and think of the right one to use the fruit for. Apply this to everything on this fucken planet. You. Can’t. Get. Inspired. By. Things. You. Don’t. Know. Exist. So how do you learn more about what's out there in the world? How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content.

#this was all one big paragraph in the original doc. I wasn't kidding about the lack of formatting lol

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johnbrand · 5 months ago

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The Resort

It was another Friday afternoon at an exclusive, private resort. The only way to get to the property was by the resort’s own transportation, the bus filled with 40 or so gay men arriving promptly as always. They were typically chatty, the usual friendly-flirty with each other before they would begin bragging about their lifestyles and work. Bear or twink, hairy or hairless, lots of boasting and a few not-so-subtle hints that their relationships would be non-existent for the weekend.

I made sure to greet each of them as they entered the main building, handing them their room keys and identification badges. All of them were assigned separate rooms, although most joked they would not be using them over the weekend. I always withheld a chuckle at those remarks, knowing better than their catty ways. Each of them had been preselected, carefully selected from a database of all LGBTQ+ individuals in the city. When the invitation had been sent out, they had no idea that only gay men were invited to the resort.

Soon, it was time for the party to begin. Within the booming house music played my special audio track, humming pleasantly beneath the sexual chaos on the dancefloor. I always kept my eye on a particular guest over the course of their stay; I enjoyed watching an intimate progression throughout our time together. For this weekend I had chosen Nicki: a small, meek college student who found himself more often in a library than a club. The young boy was one of my favorite types to watch.

The shift itself is clear, if one knows what to look for. Some guys stood a little straighter, correcting the hip that had previously popped unconditionally. Shorts grew longer, and maybe a few stretched out into plain, baggy pants to display little effort in fashion. Abs tightened up, pecs twitched, and biceps pumped all around the party. But the men just assumed it was the lights and sweat playing tricks on their eyes. Had they always been able to so easily define each other’s muscles?

Slowly, things would begin to shift physically as the men would drift apart from each other. They had started the night playfully rubbing up against the other attractive, sexually-like minded creatures, but now they found themselves a bit more distanced, creating space out of respect and something else. Being so close to a man had sort of become…a bit nauseating.

Instead of playing with each other, they would eventually begin to play with themselves, whether they realized it or not. Hand crammed down their shorts, either softly pawing or stretching seams. Some were soon even grunting or mumbling slurs to themselves right in the middle of the dancefloor. The virility of such an act in public was becoming indifferent to them, they were being told it was simply a natural thing to do.

Most men were easily converted to more heterosexual destinies, but a few were often drug out of the spell accidentally. Take Nicki for example, who I spied as he backed away from the party. His pre-conceived caution had made him aware of the changes happening around him, although he had yet to realize he had been affected already too. Nicki had gained a few inches, and his shirt had magically evaporated to reveal two dense pillows above a rippling set of abdominals.

Nicki left the dancefloor as quietly as possible, assuming he could escape. But he could have never known the special audio had not been playing from the speakers, but instead the identification badge that had been handed to him upon arrival. It would be repeating the special audio as long as I wanted it too, brainwashing up until the moment they left to cause permanent results. The physical changes would be long finished by then, but the mental modifications took the full stay to hold.

After giving him a head start, I exited out an employee door to find our lost Nicki. About 30 minutes later I caught up to him, frantically rubbing his body down, hoping to somehow clean his acts. His muscles had grown even larger during our time apart, and an impressive funk was now registerable from my position a few feet away. During our time apart, Nicki had ejaculated to the thought of a woman. He did not realize that each future interaction with his thickening cock would reconnect that pleasure with the imagery in the female body. My programming instructed them that it felt good to adjust, give in to what was natural.

By the time the identification badges were collected, the 40 or so men who reloaded onto the bus were completely changed. Over the course of the weekend, the once rowdy gays of all ages had been converted into God-fearing, fag-jeering, chick-leering men. Although he would never know it, I possessed a fatherly pride watching Nick (the “i” at the end had disappeared as fast as submissive demeanor) ascend onto the bus. I waved as my newest group of guests were sent back to the city before instructing my employees to get to work. After all, we had our next batch arriving at the end of the week.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #unintended results

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marvelstoriesepic · 5 months ago

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Casual Sweetness

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: slight mentions of handsy strangers at a bar (nothing graphic); so much comfort

Author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. I started writing it, then finished it and now it’s existing and I’m putting it out there.

Masterlist

Never once has a night out with your girls left you this unsatisfied. Or, shaken, really. Every pre-planned rendezvous or spontaneous meet-up at a local bar with Wanda and Nat had always been a reliable escape from the daily grind.

You three like to cozy up at home, preferably at Wanda’s, and binge-watch a worthy series. And while that held its certain appeal, every once in a while you would find yourselves dancing and drinking, surrounded by people who wouldn’t remember enough of you, if the amount of liquor drove you to making decisions that sober you wouldn’t have even thought of. It has always provided an outlet for stress and helped you recharge.

Not tonight though. The strangers in the new bar you girls tried out tonight were far too handsy, your head started pounding uncomfortably even before taking the first sip and thinking about the bartender only makes dread pooling in your gut.

You also weren’t able to distract your mind, or rather your heart.

Usually, you would think about getting an Uber to meet up with your friends but Bucky always insisted on driving you when he wasn’t busy. But really, he never seemed to be, anyway. Not when it meant you would have to leave the apartment on your own. Nothing had his priority other than chauffeuring you around. You never asked him to do that, he just had a habit of insisting and there was nothing you could do. He had told you as much.

And tonight was no exception. He had sprung up from the couch, movie already paused, and keys in hand when you had emerged from the bathroom and practically ushered you into his car to drive you to the bar you girls had agreed on meeting at.

“Just don’t like the idea of you sitting in the backseat of some car, looking all pretty and dressed up with some guy in the front, thinking god knows what. Not taking any chances, doll, let me drive you.”

You always roll your eyes and scoff at his exaggerated concern, reminding him that it was said guy’s job to drive you to your wanted destination. You usually ignore the rest of his words. A simple shirt and jeans would hardly qualify as ‘dressed up’ for you and the idea of you being ‘pretty’ was something you would usually laugh at.

But it was hard to laugh at that when it came out of Bucky’s mouth. Your roommate. Your friend. Maybe even your best friend. But that’s where it stopped because nothing more ever happened. And you doubted it would.

So you let his words slide and let them wash over you because if you would address them, you would start thinking. And think, you do not want to. Because thinking only leads to foolish hope. A hopeless belief, that perhaps Bucky feels what you feel and suppresses it the same way you are. A ridiculous belief that he has the same overwhelming feelings about a friend that goes way beyond what friends normally feel for each other.

So you never let yourself think too hard, shoving those feelings into a box at the very back of your mind and swallowing down the key with the hard liquor when you went out for some drinks. It always burns on its way down. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s that lingering ache. It really is not clear to you, but it does offer you a sense of reprieve, if only temporarily.

With every hungover the next day, follows the inevitable onslaught of that knot inside your chest and that rusty key resurfaces, reopening the box and unleashing a fresh wave of longing.

It only worsens in the way he would take care of you.

Every glass of water, each soft touch, each softly whispered inquiry is a gentle prod to the already gaping wound that was caused by the feelings of unrequited love.

The pancakes he would bring to your bed - because you were too grumpy to leave it - never satisfies the nourishment your soul craves. The pain relievers he would put on your nightstand, already there when you’d get back, would only serve as a cruel reminder that nothing could relieve the ache inside your chest.

With every “You feeling better, doll?” and “There anything else I can do for you, sweetheart?” the ache deepens, spreading like wildfire through your veins, reaching your bones and searing through them like branding irons with the intention to leave marks that you believe to be permanent.

The hangover eventually leaves your body, but your heart festered.

However, the ache is not always the dominant emotion in Bucky’s presence. It isn’t always the first thing you acknowledge. First and foremost, being in Bucky’s proximity elicits a profound sense of comfort and warmth.

It let the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably with every belly laugh he let out unabashedly, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, crinkles forming at their corners.

Your heart does unwanted flips at every pet name Bucky lets casually slip passed his lips, seeming so nonchalant about calling you ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ but to you it means everything.

Every tender gesture leaves you breathless. You had been living with him for nearly a year now and you had come to acknowledge how sharing a space with him had become a delicate balancing act between euphoria and agony.

Bucky would bring you a hot water bottle at times when your cramps got too bad, or simply when you experienced menstrual discomfort, trying to soothe you with sweets he extra went out for.

He would jokingly chastise you to fold your clothes before storing them in the closet to prevent them from wrinkling and tease you when you didn’t. But it always ended with him taking matters into his own hands and carefully folding your clothes while you watched him from your bed, making fun of him when he turned red attending to your undergarments, despite trying to remain indifferent.

He would cook with and for you, make you coffee in the mornings, distract you with terrible jokes when you had a bad day, and leave you to it when all you needed was some me-time, only checking in when he needed to be sure you were okay.

His casual sweetness was a constant assault on your composure.

But right now, as you klick the door to your shared apartment shut and slip out of your shoes with a heavy sigh, it is all you can think of. His gentle touch, the sparkling blue of his eyes, the cheerfulness of his smile that makes your insides do somersaults.

It is still early. Earlier than you had ever been home after a night out and you’re sure Bucky is still awake. The lights in the living room are out which means he is in his room, perhaps engrossed in his laptop, reading a book, or idly scrolling through his phone.

Yet, you hesitate, staying rooted to the spot in the hallway. It was nothing unusual for you to knock on Bucky’s door, sometimes simply barging in if you felt particularly bold or just wanted to annoy him. But you had never sought him out before simply because you needed him. Needed his comfort, his reassuring whispers, the warmth that radiates off him and seeps into your skin.

So to buy some time, you retreat to the bathroom; emptying the contents of your bladder, splashing water on your face, and brushing your teeth.

There is only so much time you can stall, and soon enough you find yourself standing in front of Bucky’s bedroom door, clothes discarded and changed for more comfortable sleepwear. There is no noise filtering through the wall of his room but the soft glow seeping beneath the door offers a glimmer of hope.

You try to soothe the shakiness of your hands and rub them along the fabric of your shirt before lifting one hand to knock on his door. The sound is softer than intended, but Bucky’s gentle ‘come in’ was immediate.

Opening the door slowly you find him leaning against the headboard of his bed, dark sheets loosely draped around his waist. His grey shirt makes him look cozy and in his lap lay a book. One you had recommended him to read.

Your body reacts in an instant, shoulders dropping ever so slightly and a breath leaves your lips at the comfort he already provides.

“You’re back early,” he starts when you keep standing at the door unmoving, “didn’t expect you home til’ midnight at least.”

The familiar cadence of his tone provides you the sense of stability you had needed to let go of his doorknob, however, the teasing in his voice wasn’t lost on you. He seems to have expected you to tumble through the door at an ungodly hour, dropping in your bed and waking the next morning with a hangover worse than the last time.

You assume the bottle of water and the painkillers already found their place on your nightstand.

A huffed laugh leaves your lips but your expression remains unchanged as you shift awkwardly in his doorway. “Uh, yeah, we decided to leave earlier. Weren’t really feeling it, I guess.” You shrug, attempting to sound nonchalant, but Bucky’s brow begins to furrow softly and he shuts his book, placing it on his nightstand without taking his eyes off you.

“You alright, doll?” His voice was devoid of the teasing tone he had held moments before, “did something happen?” His eyes are intense, scanning your face and you break eye contact, letting your gaze wander across his room as if you see it for the first time.

You take a deep breath, hands twisting nervously and your heart picks up in pace. “I, uhm…It’s-” You stumble over your words, a shaky breath escaping your mouth instead of a coherent answer.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky shift on his bed, straightening as if preparing to come closer to you but your next words halt him in his movements.

“Can I maybe stay with you? Tonight?”

It comes out more pleading and quieter than wanted but you don’t care about that right now. Not with the way Bucky looks at you. He is halfway out of the bed already, sheets thrown back onto the mattress but he still doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Course you can stay, doll! Of course you can.”

Bucky’s voice holds a reassuring firmness, while he still talks softly. Your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, watching him cross the room to you and placing his hands gently on your upper arms to take a better look at you. His eyes move between yours, brows deepening, concern etching itself into every line of his face.

“You wanna tell me what happened? Somebody make you uncomfortable?” There is something in his tone you can’t concentrate on, only shaking your head at his questions.

“I don’t- Can we not-” Your words were cut short by the gentle touch of Bucky’s hand on your face. His thumb begins to steadily swipe over your cheekbones so tenderly, a shiver rushes down your spine. He had never touched you like this before and you are trying your very best not to let your eyes droop and melt into him.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, doll, I just-” So many emotions are swirling in the depth of his blues, his worry still the most outstanding. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he whispers. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

His thumb doesn’t ease the motions over your skin and it is that you realize your hands stopped shaking and your heartbeat fell back in place without conscious effort. He has done so much for you already, without knowing it.

A deep, audible sigh escapes your lips and you offer him your first genuine smile of the night. “Just wanna stay here with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked onto his and if the world stopped moving for a second you would be none the wiser.

The comforting circles of his thumb paused and you feel that damned rusty key turning in the deadbolt of the lock to the box of your feelings, opening them with a screech and letting the contents spill out, open for him to see. And there comes the hope again. The belief that the depths of his eyes reflect the very same emotions you have plastered on your face.

But how can you not believe it when his expression holds something that looks to you a lot like love. A love, an affection, that, as you’ve established goes way beyond friendship.

Warm lips brush against your forehead and you let your eyes close for a second, savoring the feel of them. Gentle hands guide you towards his bed and you move like putty, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the soft sheets, full of his scent.

Bucky crawls in beside you, laying his body to face yours and you can’t help but study the way the soft glow of the moon that seeps through the curtains, reflect on the planes of his face, after he shut off the little lamp on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Bucky!” you whisper, the sound almost getting lost in the sheets, but he hears you, a soft smile forming on his lips, the moon allowing you to see it.

“Not for this, sweetheart. Never for this,” he whispers back and you let your eyes fall shut with a content sigh.

Right before sleep can claim you, you feel the comforting weight of his hand, covering your own over the sheets and silently linking with your fingers.

“I’ve found a natural drug for all of my panic, anxiety, and anger. It’s his voice. It’s him.”

- J.R. Rogue

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky oneshot #Bucky comfort #soft!bucky barnes #soft bucky #roommate Bucky #roommate!Bucky #Casual Sweetness

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amandacanwrite · 10 months ago

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The Bear and the Fox - A Halsin x Reader One Shot

Word Count || About 6,000 Words

Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.

POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.

CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)

A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!

You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple..

The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you.

You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot.

They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored.

When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap.

But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered.

“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”

You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.

He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms.

Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny.

He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.

“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”

He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”

He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private.

Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back.

You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin.

It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him.

But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned.

Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave.

But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape.

You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much.

Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all.

Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable.

Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows.

“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself.

But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures.

When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children.

But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun.

You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat.

You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept.

It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know.

He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished?

He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst.

“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead.

You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far.

Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else?

He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell.

Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it.

“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”

“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”

Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again.

You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes.

You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort.

When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine.

You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening.

For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox.

But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you.

He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands.

“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”

His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners.

“No,” he says.

“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”

“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”

You look up at him. “Why?” you ask.

There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her.

“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”

You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth.

He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”

You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod.

He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet.

“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers.

“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”

He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that.

“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”

You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else.

There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done.

When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you.

Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face.

“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”

You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there.

“It’s just a bruise,” you say.

He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head.

“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”

You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”

His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”

“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”

Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.

“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?”

You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear.

The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage.

How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house.

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”

“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says.

“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”

“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts.

“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”

“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“

“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”

“But—“ Kagha says.

“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled.

He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha.

Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference.

“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says.

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”

Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same.

Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her.

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”

“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”

Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.

You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.

The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.

Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator.

His expression softens, looking almost apologetic.

“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you.

Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl.

His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal.

“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”

You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again.

A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door.

You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion.

You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves.

The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you.

The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you.

So why had you stayed so long?

The fear of being captured again, perhaps.

Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while.

But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality.

No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you.

That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life.

A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin.

He’s just…

He’s everything you wish you could be.

He’s everything you wish you could have.

But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly.

But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep.

It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you.

The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet.

You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco.

You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame.

You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood.

You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you.

“Is this a dream?” You ask.

His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you.

“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks.

Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever.

“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”

You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”

His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”

You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”

“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”

“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”

He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says.

“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say.

He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”

“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”

There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you.

You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you.

“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through.

“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”

“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head.

“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”

You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you.

“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”

You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help.

“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask.

“You wish to leave?” he asks.

“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”

You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak.

“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”

“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative.

It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”

You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you.

Halsin…wants you? You?

You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever.

“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”

“What?” you say.

“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”

You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours.

“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”

You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment.

Halsin loves you.

The bear has fallen for the fox.

And he wants you by his side.

It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him.

You will protect him.

And he will protect you.

“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”

“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous.

“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”

The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap.

Where he kisses you for the very first time.

May the oak father bless you with countless others.

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