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[oreo-creampie]

‘𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧 (𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦-𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 & 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝)’

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pervert!reader, bdsm, service sub!reader, dom!toji, dom!sukuna, dom!suguru, dom!satoru, gang-bang, degradation/praise/mocking/taunting, daddy/princess, pain kink, mind break/dumbification, overstimulation, they all got big dick, vibrator, collar and leash, light bondage, blindfold, voyeurism, biting, spanking, some face spalling, drinking satoru's cum outta a pussy sleeve, double penetration, dacryphilia, some cervix fucking, light belly bulge, squirting

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏𝟒 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬/𝟑.𝟗𝐤

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: sukuna/toji/gojo/geto foursome??? w/ heavy degradation andddddddd dumbifiction and they’re like rlly mean to reader lolz. u can do anything else u want i trust u

fey: the way i've been fixated on writing this is ridiculous, gangbang requests are my fav / @omgeto / @lov3rbody hope you don't mind me tagging you girly thought you might enjoy this one

Waiting with your legs spread, rubbing a vibrator on your clit. Tonight you’re a nameless glory hole for a random guy to fuck and cum in. It's your guilty pleasure to be whored out and degraded.

If only it were by your handsome, muscular roommates. They could pass you around like one of their fat blunts.

Scarlet states on your sex room's ceiling speakers. "A group of four is coming. Ya gonna enjoy them, rowdy hotties. They might last a while." Moving to the edge of the bed, where you bend over, legs spread.

The door slides open and closes behind the silent group. You're anticipating lewd, crude comments, large hands on your hips, and a warm, hard cock in your needy cunt. Slipping the vibrator inside you, moaning.

"Aren't you gonna use me?" Spreading your cunt apart with your fingers. Letting them see the toy pulsing in your cunt. Rubbing your clit, whining. "Please, I'll be a good slut." Stuffing the toy inside, groaning when it touches your sweet spot.

You hear a familiar deep voice, “You'll be a good slut for daddy n' let me get my moneys worth outta your sloppy cunt.” Clenching the toy pulsing in your cunt. Heating up in embarrassment, quickly standing up and turning around.

Whimpering his name, "Tooojiiinn?" The sweet pleasure from the vibrator keeps you from sounding firm. Your thighs trembling, knees weakening, sitting down. They've caught you being a slut.

Toji slips off his shirt quickly. "You'll gonna be fucked too stupid think straight so we'll keep it simple for you. Dirty slut call us daddy." You're done for.

Spreading your legs open, slipping the vibrator out by the long string-like rubber piece. You cunt spams when you rub your clit. Curling your toes into the sofa carpet, Loudly moaning, "Whatever you want Daddy." Toji slips his sweats off.

His cock is thicker than you thought. With puffy veins, you want to trace with your tongue. He's going to break your cunt with a cock like that.

Suguru folds his shirt and pants, setting it on the door side counter. "Whatever we want, good little slut." Sukuna and Satoru throw their clothes together in a small pile. All of them are beautiful, with thick pecs, washboard abs, meaty arms, and muscular thighs

Sukuna snaps "Good slut my ass!" He playful glares, a predatory smirk on his kissable lips. "Fuckin' whore lied to us, said she was hanging out with some friends." You want to sit on his beautiful tattooed face.

Toji adds, "If ya us the truth we could have just tied ya up at home." He picks up a thin collar, with its leash attached.

Swirling the toy on your clit. "Didn't feel like advertising I'm submissive at a BDSM sex club occasionally. What if I got designated to a whore instead of a friend?" Joining in for Sukuna's horror movie nights. Random late-night drives with Satoru and Suguru. Toji's fat blunts and warm cuddles.

These were things you don't want to miss out on if they see you differently.

Satoru spits into his large palm, smearing it over his head. Lightly pumping his hand over his pale pink head. "Aw, don't worry you're always gonna be our lil princess. " He smears the thick pre-cum seeps from his slit with his thumb.

Toji wraps the collar around your neck. Tugging on the leash, forcing you off the edge of the bed and onto your knees. "So you told a little lie to your friends because you thought we'd shun ya for being a slut." He winds the chain around his big rough hand. Yanking you forward, you brace yourself on Toji's thick muscular thighs.

"Yes, I'm allowed to keep things private. 'Side now ya know, ya know my safe word, limits. Are you gonna keep bein' a meanie or are ya use me?" Sticking your tongue out. Toji slaps his heavy cock on your tongue.

He glides his cock into your mouth. "I've always wanted to bully ya more when ya call me a meanie." Gagging you, holding your head in place with a large hand. Pumping his cock in your mouth. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your tongue out, relaxing your neck.

Suguru encourages you, "Hold your hands out for Satoru and I." A large hand guides yours to their warm cock. Swirling your fists, gliding your hand along the length of their cocks.

Satoru croons, "Hmm your hand is so soft 'round my cock." Suguru's droops underneath his weight, too thick for your fingertips to touch. Satoru is a couple inches longer, slimmer but reasonably thick, with more puffy veins.

Your cunt clenches nothing, your slick dripping down your thighs. They are all so big, your cunt is going to be sore for days after this. Are you going to walk after this? They could take you home with them, and you could call it a night.

Anyone after Suguru, Satoru, Toji, and Sukuna would be a disappointment anyway.

Filling your lungs when Toji glides his cock out. He steps aside for Sukuna to stand next to him. "Wondered if your cock was tattooed." Wrapping your lips around Sukuna's light tan thick cockhead. Bobbing your head, groaning, taking him in deep long strokes. Gagging occasionally.

Sukuna wonders, "Is that the only thing you wondered about us?" Loudly slurping, sucking, swirling your tongue around his cock. Gliding him deeper, gagging yourself when your nose touches the short patch of Sukuna's dark hair. Sliding him out with a pop, his cock hangs, too heavy to stand up.

Kissing Sukuna's fat balls, sucking them into your mouth. Toji pulls you back, "Tell us what goes on in that perverted head of yours. Or you're not cumming." It's getting you off to have so many thick cock in your face. The slick sounds of their fist gliding along their cocks goes straight to your cunt.

Letting Satoru go, replacing Toji's hand. There is more space between your fingertips than with Suguru's cock. They're impossibly thick, able to split your cunt open and leave you gaping.

"You're cocks makin' my cunt soaking wet." Biting your lip, fighting the uncertainty. Kneeling, surrounded by four beautiful muscular men with big cocks and heavy balls they're intending to empty in your cunt. "But I dunno if I can handle all four of you. All of you are huge, but I wanna try." Turning your head, kiss Satoru's pale pink cock head.

Trailing kisses along the puffy vein, dragging your tongue up to his head. Licking up his salty sweet pre-cum. Sucking on his balls gently, swirling your tongue. Satoru croons, "Stupid little slut is trying to take on more than she can handle. "s hot makes me wanna break her."

Suguru groans, "Aww, we're too big for our little princess." Steadily pumps his cock, swiping your thumb over his head. Suguru has the prettiest cock and balls. Taking a moment to admire his thick thicks, heavy balls, and pre-cum dripping from his fat head.

You croon, "Some of the biggest, pretties cocks I've seen." Letting Suguru go, fondling Sukuna's balls. Switching to Suguru's cock, leaving Toji to stroke his own cock.

You feel the leash move as it switches hands. Sukuna, Suguru, and Satoru shift, closing in when Toji walks off. He suggests, "We should tie her up, blindfold her, and make her guess whose touchin' her." You hear a chair scrap as he moves it closer.

Struggling to take Suguru deeper, he pushes your head down with a large hand. Sukuna suggests, "The leash is long enough that it can bind her hands." Gliding your hand from massaging Sukuna's balls to stroking his thick cock. Swirling your fist, keeping a quick and steady pace.

Gliding Suguru out of your mouth with a pop. "Still new to this but I can handle two." Letting Sukuna go, twisting your hands behind your back for Satoru to bind with the chain. Satoru slaps your ass, slipping his fingers between your legs.

Satoru drags his fingertips along your wet slit, swirling around your needy hole. "You look so beautiful princess with that collar around your neck, tied up." Whining, trying your best not to rock your hips back when he pulls away.

Suguru orders, "Stand up." Quickly rising, "Good girl." Toji has a blindfold, Sukuna has lube and a buttplug. "Are you gonna be a good, little glory hole?" Suguru twists you around, bending you over the edge of the bed.

There's a pleasurable thrill you feel in your cunt from being manhandled. "Please use me. I want my meanie roommates to bully me, and fuck me stupid. Wanna be a dirty cock hungry whore." Suguru yanks on the chain, pulling your head back, blindfolding you.

Suguru lets you go. Another pair of large hands spread your cheeks. Too rough to be Suguru's. Digging in his nails and taking a large bite of your left cheek. "Toji, Nn Daddy!" He groans when you cry. "Know your hands anywhere." He bites your other cheek, gliding his fingers to your slit.

You're trapped between the bed and Toji. "You're always pulling me onto your lap and teasin' me by rubbing my thighs getting so close to my cunt." He curls his fingers into your soaking wet, tight cunt. "I want you to fuck me in front of everyone, make me your whore." Your cunt squelched when he pumps his fingers.

Toji croons, "Right a fuckin' way. Proud of ya." He spread his fingers apart, spitting into your cunt. Stuffing it in with a loud groan, "Fuck you're so damn wet, dripping down your soft thighs." He drags his nails, scratching your cheek down to your thighs. Squeezing, savoring how his fingers sink into your squish.

Squirming, the sweet firey pain of Toji's scratches adds to the sweet pleasure of getting finger fucked. Hearing Suguru, Satoru, and Sukuna groan as they touch themselves to the sight. Waiting for their turn to use your soft body. It turns you on m.

Toji groans, slapping your thigh and watching it jiggle. "Having your tiny, soft body to fold in two n' fuck mindless is makin' my night." Pumping both his fingers faster, stroking your sweet spot.

Toji croons, "The things I've been wanting to do to ya." It's only taking a few strokes from Toji's fingers and the pressure-building snaps. Intense sweet pleasure tingling in your cunt consumes your whole body. Moaning, clenching his thick fingers.

You plead, "Nnn cumming! Nng your fingers feel so good in my cunt. Mmm wanna make your cock feel good, wanna make you cum Daddy." Toji glides his finger out, roughly slapping both cheeks. Smearing your cum with each heavy spank.

Sukuna groans, "Fuck she's so hot cryin' from getting her cheeks beat. Hit her harder, make our dirty little whore sob." You jolt forward, the bed preventing you from getting far. Firey pain erupts from each harsh slap.

Crying, trembling, struggling to keep your feet planted flat. Toji glides his cock "Stupid slut is getting off on her it. She's clenching, begging for a cock." It's hot how vulnerable you are, tied up, blindfolded. Bent in front of a large, muscular man with his cock throbbing.

Your dripping wet cunt is his to use how he wishes. "Please use me, let me be your stupid little cock sleeve." He lines his cock up, lightly gliding just the tip in. Fighting the urge to rock your hips back.

He glides his fat head in. The soft ridge of his cock head tugs your tight cunt before slipping out. Sliding himself in, "Dirty fuckin slut letting anyone use your cunt. Gonna fuck ya so hard that your glory hole breaks. You won't be thinking of anyone else but me after this." He leans over you, rolling his hips forward.

He tugs on your leash. Pulling your head back, making the collar dig into your neck. Straining your pleads, "Fuck me, please! Please! Fuck me!" The bed dips, a rough hand grabs your chin and warm cock nudes your lips. Opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

Toji bites your shoulder, whining, your cunt clenching Toji's fat veiny cock. Suguru reminds, "Let the whore try to guess if she's not too stupid to." Which canceled out him.

"Satoru's hands are too damn soft." Toji picks up his pace, fucking his fat cock into you harder. "Nootthim!" Your words slur together with a moan. You're unable to keep your thoughts together.

He roughly slaps your face. "Say it you cock drunk slut." Your cheek stings, cunt clenching Toji's veiny cocky. "You're only purpose in life is to take fat cocks. That's all our greedy beautiful whore is meant for." Sukuna roughly fucks your mouth.

Choking you with his cock, gliding his cock out and slapping you across the other cheek. Toji hits your ass, digging in his nails and jiggling your soft fat. Sukuna pulls his cock out with a soft pop.

Collecting your breath, begging "Sukuna please! Daddy please. I'm only good for taking fat cocks and dumping cum in. I'm a dirty perverted slut who can't get enough of having her cunt played with!" Your cunt quivers around Toji's cock, squeezing him tighter than before. Your thick slick gushing down your thighs as you cum.

Trembling, unable to think straight. Giving in to nothing but the pleasurable feeling of getting fucked stupid by Toji's fat cock. Every puffy vein getting thicker, the twitching of his cock. He's so close to spilling in your soaking wet, tight cunt.

Sticking your tongue out, with a swift thrust, Sukuna buries himself in your hot, wet mouth. His large balls smack your chin.

Satoru moans, "Fuck couldn't help from cumming with our pretty dumb little slut begging like that." Sukuna rips your blindfold off. Groaning when he sees your tearful eyes. Tugging on the neck, choking you with the collar, fucking your mouth faster.

Suguru suggests, "I bet our cum dump is thirsty. Make her beg for it." You want to drink Satoru's cum. Not care if it tastes good or not. If it made their cocks hard you'll be their pretty cum thirsty slut.

Sukuna groans, "Fuckin' crybaby slut knows how to take it." Toji's thick hot cum spills trickling from his head. Then shooting out in thick, short bursts. Fucking it deep, smearing it with sloppy ragging thrusts.

He groans, "Pretty little cock sleeve can take all my cum in her tight sloppy cunt." Slowly gliding his cock out, stuffing the cum that trails after his cock. Keeping some of it from spilling out easily.

Toji slaps your ass one more time. "Pretty little slut! Hmm her fat cunt looks good dripping cum." Sukuna glides his cock out. Undoing your bound wrists, yanking your leash, dragging you onto the bed.

Flipping you over, and getting on top of you. Sukuna pins you in a mating press, dipping his head and biting your breasts. Flicking your nipple with his tongue. With your hands free you dig your nails into his back. Scratching alongside his tattoos.

Sukuna groans, rocking his hips, gliding his fat cock on your sloppy cunt. Sinking his teeth in deeper. You slide your hands into his pink hair, pulling to hear him moan.

Suguru and Satoru climb on the bed, hovering on either side of your head. In Satoru's hands in the pussy sleeve full of cum. "Please lemme drink your cum, I'm a thirsty whore." Licking your hand, cupping Suguru's balls, massaging them gently.

Sukuna lets your breast go, pinching your other nipple. Pulling on it, making you arch your back and cry. You can feel it in your clit. Sukuna lines up his veiny tattooed cock with your cum filled cunt.

His abs flex when he slams his cock in. Sukuna's using his strength and weight to restrain you in a tight mating press. Pinning both legs by your side, keeping you from running away or even wiggling. Making you take the full harsh force of Sukuna's thrust.

Opening your mouth, Satoru touches the rim of the pussy sleeve to your bottom lip. His liquid cum trickling onto your tongue. It's sweet, with a slight thickness. "Good fuckin' slut drink my fuckin cum make my cock hard again." Wrapping your fingers around Suguru's head, swiping your thumb over it.

Swallowing the mouthful of Satoru's cum. Sukuna's fucking your cunt too roughly. Your stomach bulges with his cock head hitting your cervix. "I can see how deep I'm going in my thirsty cock whore sloppy cunt." Toji left you feeling sore. Bringing an overwhelming sensitivity.

Your sloppy cunt can't take anymore. "Too much! Can't your cock 's too big, going too deep innnn mmy" Sukuna picks up his speed. Unable to focus on stroking Suguru's cock crying, "Cunt so sore from Toji's fat cock. Too much!" Pushing Sukuna's abs, failing to get away.

Sukuna grabs the vibrator you left on the bed. Clicking it on, holding it to your puffy clit. Snapping at you, "No safe word means I don't fuckin' care. Shut the fuck up and choke on his cock." Crying, warm tears trickling down your face.

Suguru lightly slaps your lips with his heavy head, smearing his pre-cum. "Took two cocks to break her, pathetic." Suguru straddles your neck, Sukuna holds the toys still on your clit. Adding too much pressure, the uncomfortable pain conflicts with the sweet pleasure of his cock stroking your sweet spot.

You're unable to decide if it hurts or feels good when his cock hits your cervix. Giving into every sweet pleasurably painful sensation, not bothering to think. Wanting them to use your body for their pleasure.

You're their cock hungry, dumb little slut. You don't need to think, you just need to take their cocks. Satoru croons, "It's too much, too deep!" Suguru gags you with his cock, his balls hitting your chin.

Clenching Sukuna's cock, you're so close to an intense peak. "Fuck!" You can feel Sukuna's thick cum spurting from his fat head. He glides his large hands down your thighs, squeezing your hips.

Wrapping your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer. Getting off on Sukuna fucking his cum in your sloppy cunt with Toji's. "Nnn how can her sweet cunt get tighter?" He swirls the vibrator on your clit.

Suguru slips his cock out, letting you breathe. Sukuna twists your nipple, crying from the sharp pain. Suguru shoves his cock into your mouth. Covering half your face with his balls. Groaning, he's gotten hard again quickly.

Grabbing Suguru's cock, swirling your fist, pumping your fist along his thick veiny cock. “Hmm as good as your hand feels I need to be inside ya princess.” Letting Sukuna go, he glides his softening cock out. Handing the vibrator to Suguru.

Suguru pulls away. “Toru let me get her on my chest, we can share her messy cunt.” Satoru whines, giving a couple more quick pumps. Fondling your sore breasts, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.

He croons, “Dunno if our princess can handle that. She was strugglin’ to take Sukuna.” Choking you with his cock, grabbing muscular his thighs, digging your nails in. “Won’t it be too much for our glory hole? We’ll have to carry her to the care after this.” Gliding himself out, dragging his balls across your face.

Sticking your tongue out, happily groaning. “Course a whore like you would get off to that.” Suguru slaps your cunt. Whining from the sweet pain, clenching nothing. Wanting another thick cock stretching your aching cunt despite you previous claims.

Satoru pulls away, Suguru grabs your leash yanking you up. Your collar pressing into your sore neck. Scrambling onto your knees, he pulls your back to his. You whine, “Imma dirty slut who loves her daddies cocks and balls.” He roughly slaps your clit then holds the toy to it.

Whining from the stinging pain and overwhelming pleasure. Jerking your hips back, involuntarily running away from the intensity. “Aww is it too much for your sore cunt? Poor little whore.” His mocking shouldn’t sound so sweet.

Satoru gets off the bed, the toys capturing his interest. Shifting through the dildos, you don’t know which one he picks. Suguru lines his cock up, slamming himself deep with one harsh thrust. Closing your eyes, bracing yourself for whatever pace he sets.

Suguru gets you on your back, laying on his chest. Your legs hooked over his forearms and his hands clasped behind his back. Pushing your head down, you can see Toji jerking off with a pussy sleeve.

Gliding it along his cock, staring your sloppy cunt split open by Suguru’s fat cock. “Don’t worry princess I’m going again after they’re done with ya.” You can’t respond when Suguru rocks his hips. Gliding his mind numbingly fat cock in your sloppy cunt. Sukuna’s and Toji’s cum trickling onto his balls with your slick.

Satoru climbs onto the bed with a thin, pulsing dildo. Spitting on its head, gliding his hand along it. “You can take it, let us fuck your beautiful cunt till our cocks won’t get hard again.” He glides the toy in alongside Suguru’s fat cock.

“Fuck! Fuck! Nnng it’s makin’ her cunt into a vibrating pussy sleeve!” Slowly fucking your aching, sensitive cunt. You can’t manage a single thought, don’t care to even try.

You can’t process what their saying. It’s as if something in you snaps. It doesn’t matter when you feel this good. “Nnn! Ahhh nnn!” Mindlessly moaning, Suguru’s fat cock is pressing the pulsing dildo to your sweet spot.

Curling your toes, trembling, pleading, “Please! Please!” Splaying your fingers on Satoru’s thick pecs when he leaned over you. Lining cock up, Suguru pauses for Satoru to glide his cock in.

You’re quivering from the intense burning pleasurable pain of your cunt stretching to take another cock. With a thin pulsing toy stuffed, “What is our slut begging for? Your stuffed full of all you need, cock and cum.” Whining, clawing Satoru’s chest when their heads hit your bruised cervix.

Tightly grabbing Suguru’s thick bicep, moaning when he flexes. Their cocks aren’t the only big their about them. Thick pecs, washboard arms and meaty arms, your trapped between. Taking their throbbing cocks. Your cunt seeming to vibrate around them with the toy stuffed in you.

Suguru groans, “She’s too cock drunk to do more than beg. Fuck that’s gonna make me bust. We fucked our dirty little slut dumb.” Timing their merciless thrusts, rubbing each other’s cock inside your pulsing, clenching cunt.

One head hitting your cervix after the other. Your getting off on the pleasurable painful feeling more with each stroke. “She’s so beautiful crying with not a thought behind her pretty eyes.” He grabs your leash, tugging on it despite Suguru holding your head. Forcing you to watch them double stuff your dripping cunt.

Suguru’s deep groans and Satoru’s breathy moans sound so sweet. He croons, “Does having your messy cum filled cunt ruined feel good?” Satoru presses the other vibrator to your clit, and your hips are bucking. Twisting away from their harsh, quick thrusts.

Thick warm cum squirts into Satoru’s abs and trickles onto Suguru’s balls. Loudly moaning, unable to form words. Your cunt spasming, toes curling, eyes rolling back. Satoru swirls the toy on your clit, fucking you harder.

Messing up his well-timed pace with Suguru, who ruts into you faster. “She’s shaking, sweet little whore. Let’s see how many times she can cum before her cunt breaks.” The force of their thrusts makes your stomach momentarily bulge. Showing how deep they are reaching.

Satoru glides his hand along your body, pushing on your stomach. Whining the pressure making you feel their thick, throbbing veiny cocks hitting your cervix better.

oreo cream-pie’s m.list

[bluefunkybeats]

PAPA SYLUS WITH HIS DAUGHTER

SYLUS WAKES UP TO YOU NOT IN BED WITH HIM. With a slight hunched tension on his back and spine, Sylus does a gruff and puff as he adjusts his silk black robe, to take off and come get you back to bed.

He turns to sit up properly on the bed, hands pressed firm on the mattress either side of his body to backstretch and to let his feet meet the floor. Yet funnily enough he places his feet down to be met with the most frigid cold floor (which grants him a distasteful expression); and he can’t feel for his slippers.

He treads to the kitchen with shivering numbness on the soles of his feet, but that irksome bother is quickly forgotten once he actually gets a glimpse of the scene in the kitchen from the doorframe.

Sylus’s face turns from disgruntled to wholesomely entertained to the sight of his little one sat perched sideways on the island stool facing her biggest teddy bear, whom was sporting her papa’s artisan-crafted suede slippers.

His smiley amusement only grows on his face as he meets your equally cheekily amused one, rumbly delighted chuckles fluttering out of him that you meet with your own giggles.

He approaches the pair of you and bows down to be close to eye-level with his little angel’s face.

“Can I have them back, sweetie?”

“Or is teddy’s feet too cold?” you brazenly chime in.

He can only meet your audacious smile with fake, light-hearted frustration (which to you is always a really bad act, since he can’t help snickering and the corners of his mouth turn upward), along with mock groans and crossed arms, all designed to make you laugh.

She’ll be the judge on who’s getting the slippers.

SYLUS WHO FINDS HIS LITTLE PRINCESS ASLEEP ON THE COUCH, limbs branched out comically whilst her stuffed animals stay splayed on the floor, presumably struck down by her little arms and legs (which move like cats on hot bricks when she’s asleep- a kicker for sure).

Papa Sylus begins on bending down and picking up her soft toys and placing them on the sofa with her. As he does, a few get lay down with cotton-filled flabby arms covering their beady eyes and having starfish legs, all in purpose to mimic the sleeping position of your daughter. The others get lined up around her like waiting for her to wake up and watch TV or play with them again (don’t worry- they’re placed a radius far enough so she won’t kick them down again, hopefully.)

Once done with his antics, Sylus turns from his view the of the couch and catches glimpse of you behind the glass sliding-door of the balcony.

Carefully and slowly sliding the door open and closed as to not make too much noise for your sleeping angel, he joins your leaning figure of elbows on the railing, watching the view outside the apartment.

He grabs your waist letting his arm and hand rest across the entirety of it, and kisses the top of your head.

“She’s fast asleep.”

[verstappen-cult]

GWEN’S RADIO MESSAGE. I saw the notification and ran to Instagram only to find these photos. And when I tell you that I couldn’t stop looking at them for at least five minutes. . . so, you know I had to write a silly little drabble.

You come home after your early pilates class to find Charles snuggling with a puppy on the carpet in the living room, cushions perfectly scattered around to simulate a comfortable bed. When Charles sees you standing there with a puzzled look on your face, he just pouts, hugging the little dog tightly against his chest, and looks at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“What is that?” You ask, eyebrows raised. You know what is is, you simply don’t know what is a dog doing in your apartment when you don’t have any pets.

Charles cheeks are colored a light pink when he says, “Remember that time you said how much you wanted a puppy?”

“That was ages ago!”

“But look at him!” Charles grabs the puppy with both hands and shows him to you just like that scene in The Lion King with Simba being presented to all the animals in the kingdom. “Look at those eyes! We can’t send him back to the shelter.”

The dog isn’t even looking at you, too busy licking your boyfriend’s hand.

But Charles is right.

You can’t send him back to the shelter when you can give him a better life. And is not like you are actually mad that he decided to adopt a dog without your consent, it’s more about the surprise to see him lying on the carpet in his $2,000 white designer sweater with a dog, when in the past he’s gotten angry when you haven’t hung it up how it is supposed to hung.

You drop your bag and take off your shoes to join him on the floor. The little guy jumps from his hand and walks over to you, sniffing your hands and giving you side eyes until he feels safe enough to climb in your lap and let you hold him.

“Aren’t you cute,” You say, giving his little head a kiss. “I guess we need to give him a name, no?”

“About that,” Charles plays with a dog toy to avoid looking at you. “I already named him.”

You huff, “Of course you did.” You can’t be mad, not when Charles looks so shy and happy with the cute puppy walking around and exploring his new home. “What is his name?”

“Leo Leclerc.” He says it so proud, the corners of his mouth curling up that you can’t help but smile too.

“It suits him.” You agree, leaning closer to Charles. He immediately opens his arms for you and you rest your head on his chest, looking at Leo trying to climb on the sofa. “You’re a dog dad now, Charlie.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t asked you before adopting him,” He turns his head to get a better look at you. “and I’m sorry I used you wanting a puppy as an excuse when in reality I feel in love with him the second I saw him through the window.” Leo walks back to you and finds comfort between Charles legs. “I don’t want him to be just mine. I want him to be ours.”

You sit up, eyes looking between Charles and, what is now, your puppy. Your boyfriend looks expectantly, waiting for an answer that comes in the form of a squeak and a kiss.

“I can’t believe you went to get groceries and ended up adopting a dog.”

“About that,” Charles scratches the back of his neck nervously and you know what he’s about to say. “I saw him and forgot about everything else! But I can go to the grocery store this afternoon. He needs more toys, after all.”

“Oh, he’s gonna be so spoiled!”

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[struwberrii]

boyfriend! sakusa who isnt super big on physical touch, but always shows how much he cares with the little things he does, like holding doors for you and carrying your bags.

boyfriend! sakusa who doesn’t love physical touch, but still takes every opportunity he can to kiss you

boyfriend! sakusa who immediately comes to you when he’s in a bad mood and needs to talk shit about someone

you were relaxing on your couch when suddenly you heard a harsh knock on your door. you panicked thinking it could be the police, but upon further investigation (looking through the peep hole) you discovered it was just a very irritated sakusa. you opened the door and almost immediately he pushed past you and b-lined for your spot on the sofa

“you won’t believe what that idiot atsumu did today, i swear his stupidity may just drive me mad!”. he practically growled. you could already tell this was gonna be a long rant so you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and got comfortable next to him before he started.

boyfriend! sakusa who only allows you to enter his bedroom and has a blanket and pillow saved for only you (he regularly washes when he knows you’re coming over)

boyfriend! sakusa who leaves a get well soon basket at your doorstep and facetimes you for hours at a time when you get sick

boyfriend! sakusa who always surprises you with designer jewelry and shoes, not for any reason other than him wanting to see you wear it.

boyfriend! sakusa who likes going out with you at the most random times, just to avoid huge crowds (if he wasn’t with you he wouldn’t be making an effort to go out at all if possible)

never in your life did you think you’d be getting ready for a dinner date at 8:30 pm on a tuesday. your boyfriend was on his way to pick you up, he made reservations for the two of you at a nice restaurant with a beautiful view. you were slightly annoyed with the time and date since you had work/school the next morning but just seeing sakusa instantly lifted any negative emotions you had about the situation. you opened the door to see him in a white polo shirt, black pants, a luxury belt on and a fancy silver watch on his wrist. you were practically drooling. the two of you walked to his car and made your way to the restaurant.

“i forgot to say this earlier, but you look absolutely stunning tonight” he said calmly, keeping his eyes on the road. you laughed and returned the compliment.

“by the way, why’d you choose a monday to take me out, kiyoomi?”

“i really do hate crowds, y’know?”

boyfriend! sakusa who has the funkiest music taste and always leaves you confused when his playlists go from the doors band to aphex twin to chase atlantic

boyfriend! sakusa who doesn’t mind your germs getting on him

(he still makes you shower before you get in his bed)

boyfriend! sakusa who sleeps best when you’re lying on top of him under his blanket with his arms wrapped around you

boyfriend! sakusa who made a hand signal that only you and him know, that he uses when he wants to get out of any situation and sneak off with you

you were at one of sakusas games, you always arrived earlier with him since people wanted interviews with him and to take videos for tv, so you would usually just sneak around back and wait for him, but sometimes interviewers caught up to you and would sneak a few questions in with you. this time you and sakusa were both in the lobby of the dome he was scheduled to play in.

“do you know how long sakusas been training for this match?”

“has sakusa shared the secret behind his flexible wrists with you!?”

“are you only with sakusa because of his fame?”

you were being asked so many questions you could hardly even get one answer out, you looked over at your boyfriend to see what he was up to, and that’s when he gave you the signal, low enough for nobody else to catch it. then he made up some partially believable excuse and left the interviewers. quickly after you made up a slightly less believable excuse and followed pretty far behind him. you weren’t exactly sure where he went, there was way too many doors down the hall he took so you just walked in hopes of finding an open one.

that’s when you suddenly felt a strong arm wrap around you and pull you into one of the lounge rooms, followed by an attack of kisses to your face.

“i play so much better when we get to do this”

boyfriend! sakusa who lets you do hair care and skincare on him, and is surprisingly educated on skincare and which products/ingredients work best for different types of skin problems.

boyfriend! sakusa who let’s you count all the freckles/moles on his body and trace them with your fingers

boyfriend! sakusa who wakes you up every morning you’re together by the smell of him brewing your coffee and making breakfast for you

you woke up in sakusas bed earlier than usual. it was 8:25 am on a saturday, you had no reason to be awake this early. but something smelled so good, you couldn’t go back to bed after your nostrils had been blessed by such a scent. you grabbed one of sakusas sweaters and made your way to his kitchen. there he was in nothing but his boxers, cooking pancakes over the stove. the morning sun hitting his back at just the right angle to make all his muscles really pop out at you.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you so early love”. he says after hearing you come out of his room.

“it’s all good, just what is that heavenly smell?” you joked, sitting on one of the stools at his kitchen island, watching him finish up cooking. he turned around and slid a plate of pancakes infront of you. he even drew a little smiley face out with all your favorite fruits and whipped cream. then he handed you a cup of hot coffee, just the way you like it.

“what did i ever do to deserve you” you said as you smiled at your boyfriend.

boyfriend! sakusa whos love language is acts of service

boyfriend! sakusa who takes your makeup off for you, does your skincare for you and tucks you into bed when you’ve had a bad day

boyfriend! sakusa who always reminds you to do the little things, like washing your hands when you get home from being out, or drinking water

boyfriend! sakusa who’s trying his best for you

(sorry guys this may be a teeny bit ooc but i love him idc)

[kairawrites]

sweet escape.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x his wife

requested: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

summary: It's your turn to host the sleepover, and the house is crawling with kids. All Lewis wants is to enjoy his favorite snack in peace, but someone else has beaten him to it.

words: 1.7k

It was your turn to host the sleepover, and Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, had been buzzing with excitement all week. Their friends always claimed that you hosted the best sleepovers, and tonight was no exception. The living room had been transformed into a comfort kingdom, a cozy haven that would make any child’s sleepover dreams come true.

The sofa was covered in blankets and pillows, perfectly prepared for you and Lewis to cuddle up later. Roscoe was already settled in, burrowed into one of the blankets. Air mattresses, each adorned with fluffy blankets and an array of pillows, covered the remainder of the living room floor. Pressed together and ready for the kids, they formed cozy nests. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, twinkling glow over the room, and each air mattress had a customized snack basket placed at the foot, filled with treats specially chosen for each child.

In the kitchen, boxes of freshly delivered pizza sat waiting on the island, their aroma mingling with the sweet scent of the homemade treats you had prepared. After picking up the kids and their friends from their respective homes, Lewis had returned to find this magical setup already prepared and waiting for the night’s festivities. The sight of it had brought a smile to his face—this was exactly what a sleepover should be.

Once Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, were fed and changed into their pajamas, you managed to get them to agree on a movie. They were going to watch Monsters, Inc., a classic that never failed to entertain. The kids settled into their cozy nests of blankets and pillows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the string lights as you switched off the overhead light. Lewis watched in awe as you effortlessly managed all eight of them, your voice calm and soothing as you adjusted the volume and made sure everyone was comfortable.

You were wearing pajamas that matched Ariel’s and her friends’—a cute set in soft pink with Hello Kitty prints scattered across the fabric. Lewis, on the other hand, was dressed in black pajamas adorned with Spider-Man prints, matching those of Mason and his friends. His pajama top was emblazoned with the superhero’s web design, while the pants were red with a Miles Morales pattern.

As the kids finally settled into their makeshift beds, Lewis watched you walk over, a smile playing on his lips as you let out a breath, clearly relieved that the evening was under control. He reached out, his fingers lightly touching the hem of your shorts. “Cute pajamas,” he noted.

You giggled as you glanced up at him. “Thanks, but you’re one to talk.” You gestured to his Spider-Man pajamas, and he grinned.

“Hey, don’t be mad I got the better pair,” Lewis said with a chuckle, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

“I have something for you,” you said, reaching around him. Lewis’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement as you produced a personalized snack basket just for him. “The kids wanted to try the peanut butter bites, so I had to give you only two,” you said with a playful grin.

Lewis’s grin widened as he took the basket from you. His hand instantly moved to retrieve a peanut butter bite. A soft moan of appreciation was muffled as he bit into the sweet treat. He’d been looking forward to this moment all day, from the moment he found you pulling out the ingredients in the morning.

“You always spoil me,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before moving to join Roscoe on the sofa, ready to enjoy the treats.

Lewis was sprawled comfortably on the sofa, Roscoe resting contentedly against his chest as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. The kids were thoroughly engrossed, laughing at the antics of Sulley and Mike.

However, something felt off. The absence of your laughter was unusual. You were always the one who laughed the loudest at this film. Lewis lifted his head from the armrest behind him and scanned the room, searching for you.

Seeing that you were nowhere in sight, he figured you might have slipped upstairs for a bit of peace and quiet. With a small smile, he reached into his personalized snack basket, hoping to grab another peanut butter bite. To his dismay, he found that there were none left.

He set the basket aside and rose from the sofa, leaving Roscoe to stretch out in his spot. Lewis headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and checked every shelf and corner for any remaining peanut butter bites. His search proved fruitless, leaving him mildly frustrated. He sighed, shutting the fridge.

A thought crossed his mind—maybe, just maybe, there was one last stash hidden away in the pantry. You had the habit of storing treats in the pantry when you wanted to keep them away from the kids.

Lewis opened the pantry door, only to stop in his tracks. There you were, standing in the small pantry, looking a little too guilty for someone just grabbing a snack. Your hand was tucked behind your back, your eyes wide with surprise as you met his gaze.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding?”

“Just…getting a snack,” you replied.

Lewis’s gaze passed over your face, his eyes lingering for just a moment. He had known you long enough to recognize the subtle signs when you were hiding something. The way your eyes shifted slightly to the side and the faintest of smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes were all dead giveaways.

He could tell you were trying to play it cool, but he could see through it. “What are you hiding back there?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. His expression was one of playful suspicion, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but you took a step back as he advanced.

Lewis leaned in, the familiar scent of chocolate and peanut butter widening his smile. “Is that the last of the peanut butter bites?”

Before he could say another word, you quickly stepped forward, covering his mouth with your hand. “Shh!” you hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen as if expecting the kids to burst in at any moment.

Lewis chuckled, his laughter muffled against your hand. You guided him by the front of his shirt, pulling him inside the pantry as he reached back to shut the door behind him. The small space felt even smaller with the two of you squeezed inside.

You tried to maintain your composure, but with him this close you failed.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you looked up at him. “Alright, fine,” you admitted, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “I took the last of the peanut butter bites.”

Lewis’s eyes lit up with a mix of triumph and amusement. “So, you were hiding them?” he asked, his voice full of mock surprise. “I thought you made these for me.”

Your eyes rolled, yet you allowed him to take a bite out of the bar in your hand. “What if I want them for myself?”

Lewis paused, a mock-serious expression on his face. “Then you shouldn’t have made them so good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you watched him take a second bite. “Guess that’s on me, huh?”

“Yeah, means you gotta share.” Lewis leaned in, his smile widening as he kissed you softly.

You broke the remainder of the bar in half. You held out one piece to Lewis.

“You know,” he said with a chuckle, “I didn’t kiss you just to get that bar.”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

With a mischievous grin, Lewis leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he placed a second, more lingering kiss on your lips. The sweet taste of peanut butter lingered between you. You could feel the warmth of his hand against the back of your neck.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a playful glint. “Maybe that's all I'm after,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours again.

Despite the warmth of your husband's lips against yours, you can't help but giggle. “Why are we hiding snacks in our own home?”

The sound of your laughter pulled a smile to your husband’s lips.

“Have you seen the way those kids look at me the second they realize I have food?” His brows raised, Lewis popped the last of his bar into his mouth. “They’ve got their mother’s eyes—big, innocent, and impossible to say no to.”

The two of you stayed there for a few more minutes, savoring a few moments of quiet. Eventually, the sound of muffled laughter pulled your gaze to your husband’s.

“Thanks for sharing,” he smiled softly, gently cupping your face, leaning in for a kiss.

You found yourself pressed against the pantry door, your breath catching as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity. His touch slipping beneath your pajama top.

When he finally pulled back, you were both slightly dazed, your heart racing in your chest. Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “Whose idea was it to invite a bunch of kids to our house again?”

You giggled, remembering the enthusiasm in his voice when he suggested it. “Yours.”

He groaned, shaking his head as he kissed you again, a little less serious this time, more playful. “Remind me to never get any bright ideas.”

“Don’t let them stay up too late,” you warned with a smile. “Or you'll have to wait until tomorrow to get what you want.”

“They’re not the issue,” Lewis teased, his voice soft as his fingers traced your jawline. “Keeping you quiet is.”

You gently rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your heart fluttered as his gaze drifted back to your lips.

“Get rid of the evidence,” you whispered, your smile widening as you reached behind you to open the pantry door.

But before you step out, you stood on your toes and kissed him quickly, a soft, sweet peck that was over almost as soon as it began. Lewis watched you go with a lingering smile.

[urbanwood02]

Visit For More Information:- https://www.urbanwood.in/sofa-come-bed-design

[wannaeatramyeon]

DG x Reader: Manager and their Idol

8.5k. G/N. Soft, colleagues to lover (guess I love this trope). Masterlists

You had imagined life as a K-Pop idol manager to be much more glamorous.

You pity your young naive self. The one that envisaged schmoozing with stars and rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers, and instead set you on this horrid, lacklustre path.

What you didn't expect was the amount of time playing driver. Carting that stupid pink haired brat around. Waiting on him hand and foot during shoots and interviews, and being at his beck and call.

You have saved his ass more times than you can recall, ran through scripts with him, practised his stupid dances and moves alongside, protected him from unhinged fans and reporters and scavengers.

And yet you can count on one hand the amount of times he has thanked you.

Actually no, it didn't require any hands because he has thanked you exactly zero times for all your early mornings and late nights and for going above and beyond your duty.

Out of desperation, you had asked your boss if you could manage someone else and the request was declined.

"DG has taken a liking to you," she said, tone impressed as if that was something you should be proud of.

"Great," your smile comes out as more of a grimace.

And goddamn, this agency was so stupidly prestigious and the benefits and perks here really are second to none. Just why did Diego fucking Kang have to be their top idol.

.

.

The first time you crossed the threshold into his building, greeting the reception security guard and entering his penthouse keycode like you had been let in on the world's greatest secret, you had tiptoed around like a child in a museum. After all, this was DG's residence. The DG!

You had ooh-ed and aah-ed at every little thing. 

Taking delight in seeing his interior design of choice, the type of candy that he snacks on, the shampoo and conditioner he uses, the way he organises his desk. This is the chair DG sits on to eat. This is the sofa DG lounges on to watch TV. This is the bed he sleeps in, the bath he uses, the toilet he-

Any wide eyed innocence and awe evaporated after your first week working together.

Today, you stab in the entry code and let the door shut with a bang. 

You set his now cold coffee order on the kitchen counter and rifle with practised fingers through his unopened mail to see if there is anything you should draw his immediate attention to. You pick up his discarded clothes from the floor (and for fuck's sake, this suit jacket was on loan) and make your way to his bedroom where tufts of pink hair peeks out from under the cover.

"Good morning," you announce, locating the remote to open the blinds and letting in some sunlight.

Bedsheets rustle behind you.

"Good morning Diego," you repeat and give one warning, "I hope you're decent." With that, you throw the covers back to find the scantily dressed idol glaring up at you.

You remember the days when this sight would have made you weak at the knees. Seeing him half naked, in the flesh, freshly woken up with bedhead and half lidded eyes. It's what most of Korea dreams of, including yourself once upon a time.

Now all you feel is extreme irritation.

"Good morning," you say for the third time, plastering on a saccharine smile that you know DG sees clearly through because it is insincere as hell to anyone with half a brain cell. You let the fakeness shine through anyway.

For a split second, DG frowns as his eyes drop to your lips and then he pretends everything is good. Smiling back prettily, sharp canines on show and stretching. Lifting his arms overhead, showing a good stretch of pecs and abs and the line of muscle in a V pointing like an arrow straight down to his-

You roll your eyes.

"You're late." You throw the covers back over him and stride back towards the door. "We should have left half an hour ago." You leave out the part where you had been waiting downstairs in the car and after an hour of no show and no anything, you stomped your way up to his home.

DG, sensing your mood, adds oil to the fire with a smirk, "Why didn't you wake me then?"

If that idiot bothered to look at his phone, he would see a number of missed calls and unread messages from you.

Whatever.

"Hurry up."

.

.

DG has come across many people like yourself over the years. All cute and bright eyed, way too soft.

He never gave you any special treatment, for better or worse, and assumed that you would eventually burn out or give up and move on to something more worthwhile.

Unfortunately, in a rare turn of events, he had miscalculated.

Of course most people would be starstruck, it's only natural. But he mistook your sincerity and kind smile for ignorance and missed your sharp, observing gaze, and astute mind.

He's impressed, and he really can't remember the last time he was impressed.

In a matter of days of working together, you had managed to cut through the bullshit and within the month got him more compliant and docile than anyone else ever has.

Which should be a huge fucking problem, and raising red flags all over DG's mind.

...Except-

What's really troubling him right now, as he sulks in the passenger seat and you in the driver's, is that you have developed some sort of resistance to his charms.

Maybe a part of him does actually miss the you who he formed the first impression of. Who looked at him in wonder, with the same admiration that everyone else did.

Now that he knows you, he hates that he had thought that initial admiration was insignificant and worthless.

.

.

DG has a stash of candy in the car.

Or more accurately, you keep a stash of candy next to him to a) Shut him up and b) Keep him tolerable.

If DG wasn't so aloof, the fact that he has an incurable sweet tooth (and probably cavities to prove it) would have made headlines as a cute K-Pop fact and likely garnered sponsorship and advertising deals with all sorts of confectionary brands.

You had only found out during your adventures as his manager, rifling through his kitchen drawers trying to find his goddamn phone that he misplaced and you stumbled upon his stash of candy.

It really was a disgusting amount, something you'd expect a gaggle of grade schoolers at Halloween to hoard, not Diego goddamn Kang.

And then you also found out if he's not quiet and haughty in the car, making the atmosphere awkward, he likes to comment on your driving.

Who even sits in the passenger seat next to their 'chauffeur' anyway? He complains about you braking too suddenly and not accelerating fast enough. How you drive like an 80 year old with cataracts, and you're too slow when the light changes to green.

The turn in your relationship happened when you snapped at him to shut the fuck up after losing the final shred of your sanity on a three hour drive.

DG, to your dismay, didn’t miraculously lose his hearing and turns to you as you silently berate yourself for voicing the quiet thoughts out loud.

Although, you're in the deep end now. You're gonna get fired anyway, so if he says anything else you might as well give him a flick on the forehead or a pinch or maybe a punch to the face-

Instead, he laughs.

It's nothing like the laugh you have heard on TV and in interviews. The rehearsed and manicured 'haha' or cool chuckle that suits his shiny persona. It's kinda goofy and a lot endearing.

What's even more endearing is the way he does actually shut the fuck up for the rest of the journey. You like him a lot more after that.

So. You digress.

The candy is a way to keep the sweet toothed maniac quiet. Even if it doesn't work, at least it's harder to make out what insults he's slinging with a lollipop rattling around his mouth.

However, he has never ever shared any with you. Any of the candy that you stock, and pay for.

(That you technically claim back on company expenses, but you're trying to be self righteous here.)

Ever.

In all the months of working with him, he gobbles away happily even if your stomach is growling and you refuse to take any yourself out of principle.

Until-

"Here."

"Huh?"

Taking advantage of your response and open mouth, DG leans into your personal space and feeds you some chewy strawberry something or another (which coincidentally are his least favourite), fingers lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second.

Three things happen in quick succession.

The burst of sugar hits your tongue.

You nearly choke.

You narrowly avoid swerving.

"Careful now," DG grins when you get the car and yourself under control, and glance at him with a scowl.

Good. That proves you're not completely immune to his charms.

.

.

That bastard has now taken it upon himself to feed you candy at every opportunity.

You wonder if he's doing some sort of Pavlov experiment. The sweetness trying to erase any sourness you feel towards him.

It sort of works, and you consider biting his fingers off one of these days.

You hear the crinkling of wrappers, one for him that he pops into his mouth, and one for you that he gives without asking.

You angle your head towards him, and his fingers graze your lips every time.

Neither of you comment on the change but the intimacy drives you a little crazy.

.

.

And DG too.

Because intimacy works both ways and damnit his little gesture to keep the pretty blush on your face has backfired.

The only form of intimacy he knows comes from discreet hookups and low key links. Not someone who is around day in, day out. Or anyone that goes deeper than one night stands and booty calls.

You're there, you're always there. Of course you are, you're his manager.

But today, he feels under the microscope with you standing a couple metres away and keen eyes watching the camera monitor.

It's a no nothing day. Standard schedule where he shoots a fragrance commercial and he exits a pool all wet and sultry, white t-shirt clinging to his muscled body.

Then another scene where he writhes around slightly on a sunbed and eye-fucks the camera.

How it sells a fragrance, he never knows. The mystery of showbiz.

"Cut! More powder!" The director shouts out, the crew springing into action and DG knows exactly why.

He feels strangely embarrassed and flustered, which has manifested into his cheeks being flushed, and god he can't even remember the last time he has been like this.

It’s out of character and he needs to get his head together.

As the make up artist hurriedly dabs on some foundation, you make your way over to him.

"Are you sick?" you ask, concerned and reaching out to feel his forehead with the back of your hand.

"I'm fine," He says, turning away from your attentiveness and staring at a point in the distance.

.

.

With most people, if DG wants them out of sight, they stay out of sight.

But as his manager, and a very competent one at that, it’s harder to get you to leave.

Not that DG wants you to either, don’t get him wrong. 

The only constants he has around him are people who want something from him. And yes, he knows you’re only in his company because you work with him. However, he really can’t doubt the concern he always sees in your eyes. The compassion and empathy even when he makes you want to scream and tear your hair out.

His standoffish demeanour is not new to anyone. It’s part of his appeal to be quite honest. 

Yet he feels bad over the next couple weeks as he turns it up to eleven and tries to create some distance. He registers the hurt on your face as he is extra short with his answers and behaviour.

.

.

Pandering to overinflated celebrity egos and the insane Korean work ethic often leads to after hour shoots and dinner delayed until past midnight.

Honestly, this wreaks havoc on your sleep schedule and your skin.

"Here." You retrieve DG's takeout from the paper bag.

A double portion of delicious fried chicken with a side of kimchi and pickles. It's a change of pace from what most idols order, yet he doesn't give two shits about calories or sodium intake and to add insult to injury, somehow manages to keep his trim figure.

You lament your soggy salad sitting at the bottom. As if it’s not sad enough right now - once you arrive home, the lettuce will be wilting and room temperature and you will eat it in your dimly lit apartment with nothing to keep you company except the sound of the TV.

DG notices you turning to leave his penthouse, and his mouth moves before his brain can.

"Aren't you staying?"

"What?" You double take at the question.

DG's company is usually worse than your lonely meal for one. 

He’s annoying and you frequently want to slap him, but how he has been with you lately has been troubling and you actually feel a sense of relief at his offer.

(You had wondered if you might have been getting sacked up until this moment.)

Nevertheless, in all your time working alongside, you have never had a proper meal one on one together. Nothing more than you driving with one hand and the other hastily shoving a burger into your mouth as he looks on in disgust.

You would have dwelled on this more, wondering what's changed, what’s happened, but then-

"I'll share." DG nudges the box towards you, and the delicious scent of deep fried, battered goodness wafts along with it it

All your misgivings and your salad is forgotten.

.

.

Almost.

No, you were wrong.

Eating with DG, without any distractions such as traffic to navigate or other boisterous colleagues around, is unnerving. Disarming.

His haughtiness remains, but how haughty can someone be when munching on a drumstick.

All frostiness from the past weeks melts away as you both eat your way through his chicken.

He’s talking more tonight than you have heard in a while.

You find him funny, and really quite bitchy. Which you did know all along except it's much funnier now his slanderous comments aren't directed at you.

And has he always looked at you with such a piercing gaze? So intensely focused on what you have to say. Even if you're just complaining about your boss, blurring your lines of professionalism, he gives you his full attention.

You really can't remember the last time you have been in each other's company like this. 

You loathe to admit that even with what an asshole he is, DG's shine hasn’t dulled enough for you that you don't understand the appeal.

.

.

Leaning forward, DG whispers into your ear.

To anyone else, it looks like an over-affectionate idol with their manager. If they could hear his words, "I'm going to kill you," they would think otherwise.

Ok, so this one is your fault.

The good times have to come to an end and maybe you should have been more careful with his pride and joy - some ridiculously overpriced and over-specced vehicle.

Taking advantage of the clear blue Seoul skies, the pink haired menace was the one who drove you today in his fancy imported sports car, but the speed limits and the rest of the traffic was not on his side.

Already running late, even for him, he parked somewhere convenient and illegal then passed you the keys, leaving you stranded on the sidewalk, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, as he strode off to meet his music producer and choreographer and left you to park his baby elsewhere.

Why he entrusted you with it, you're not sure.

You would have done it anyway though, because when else are you going to have an opportunity to drive a supercar, if your boss didn't call at that moment. Questioning your expenses and DG's schedule and confusing you about the fitting at a fashion house and hair styling appointment that you knew like the back of your hand but when someone is so confidently incorrect, you start to doubt yourself.

By the time you got off the phone after pacing up and down the street and checking and double checking DG's timetable, you finally make your way back to the car-

And see it in the middle of being compounded.

You had begged and pleaded with the two men who were having none of it and you left, tail between your legs, to beg and plead with the other man who you knew would also have none of it.

Damn, you hate it when you prove yourself right in these instances.

You know DG won't really kill you, but he will likely make your life hell for the next couple weeks.

.

.

A normal person being pissed off at you would probably result in the silent treatment until tempers cool down.

DG does the opposite. Sort of.

He takes pleasure in making things as awkward for you as possible, until you're squirming in your seat trying to stay professional, thinking about your job and your rent and your bills; or torn between wanting the ground to swallow you up.

Around other people, your boss, your colleagues, his colleagues, he sidles up to you all smiles and soft looks. Slips purposely into banmal, and then oopsy, pretends that he didn't mean to be so informal with you around others.

Gossip soon stirs about your and DG's close relationship, if there's something else going on. Only you can see the mischief in his eyes and the malice in his smile and you think about yanking him by the ear and demanding to know what he is playing at.

Alone, he denies any sort of miscreant behaviour. Barely listening to you complaining and snapping at him. Ending with him outright ignoring you and you fume even harder.

This time, you're not sure the punishment even fits the crime. 

Any guilt soon dissipates when his car is returned in perfect condition within a couple days but his performance lasts for weeks.

.

.

Teasing you has always been fun for DG - when your cheeks dust angrily with pink and your eyes burn with fire.

The equivalent of a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails in the school yard.

.

.

Meetings with HNH Group usually do not involve you. If it does, at most you are waiting in the car.

Luckily, there are also an assortment of cafes and restaurants within a stone's throw and it gives you some time to debrief and catch a breather from following DG's hectic schedule.

The downside is you're never sure if a two hour meeting will be condensed to fifteen minutes or if a quick catch up with Charles Choi and other Executives turns into an all nighter.

There's been days where you have ordered a meal, then had to abandon it with a sigh and a longing look as you spot DG striding out of the building looking pissed off that you're not already there, or stayed in the vehicle with the engine running and your stomach rumbling as short appointments overshoot.

Maybe this is another consequence from DG being petty and irate with you for getting his car towed - you're left snoozing at the steering wheel of your runaround, the idol standard-issue luxury minivan, waiting for his return.

It's far too late in the evening for anywhere to be open, only the fluorescent lights of convenience stores and glare of the HNH logo illuminates the streets.

DG opens the sliding door, climbs into the back and slams it hard enough to jerk you awake and rattle the entire van.

He’s sitting by himself in the back, which is odd enough in itself.

As you blink away the dregs of sleep, in the rearview mirror, you notice the stiffness in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. His eyes stare vacantly out the window. DG is clearly upset about something, enough to crack through his aloof veneer.

"Are you ok?" You don't get a response, not even a passing glance.

Obviously something has gone wrong with the HNH Group meeting and the stress has manifested.

You wrack your brains thinking of something that might cheer up this asshole and you think of the only thing that improves your mood when you're on the verge of a breakdown.

(Usually due to the aforementioned asshole in your current presence). 

"Tteokbokki and beer?" You offer. It’s past your bedtime but a sulky DG for the rest of the week will also ruin your week too.

DG briefly looks at you before going back to staring at the window. It’s not a no.

You don’t get home until past 4am that night. 

At your favourite late night hole-in-the-wall, you eat far more tteokbokki than DG. On second thoughts, you don’t remember him eating any at all. You’re talking and downing beers to fill the silence, trying to perk up this silly celebrity. Loose lipped and spilling far more details than you would if you were sober, with him seated opposite and sipping on a soda. 

As the night ticks along, he thaws and a small smile settles on his face watching you gesticulate and ramble about your life.

You don’t get home until past 4am that night-

With DG driving, piggybacking you up to your apartment, and tucking you into bed.

.

.

DG can’t stop thinking of the weight of you on his back, arms slung over his shoulders, legs at his waist and his hands gripping your thighs.

You slurring drunkenly into his ear as he climbs the stairs in your building. It’s mostly nonsense. He can’t make out your words but remembers your breath tickling his skin.

And when he wraps your duvet around you, the brief moment of lucidity in your eyes as you look at him, softer than you ever have, you tell him, “Thanks Diego.”

Diego.

.

.

Nothing changes between the two of you after this. Not really.

You still find him an enormous thorn in your side. Incredibly stuck up and haughty and you continue to want to throttle him on a weekly basis but you are immensely grateful for him not leaving you a passed out heap on the sidewalk.

You’re in the middle of chastising him once again, dragging him out of bed as he is running late and being an absolute dick about it. Taking it easy as if he has all the time in the world. 

Well of course he does. He’s not the one that will be getting an earful from your boss or on the receiving end of the production crew’s complaints, as if trying to manhandle and cart this manchild around is easy.

“Diego Kang, I swear to fucking god-”

"James." He says, interrupting you as he picks out and pulls an eye-wateringly expensive jumper over his head.

"What?"

"Call me James when it's just us.” He checks out his outfit in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with it, before moving onto his hair. “James Lee. That's my real name."

DG, or James Lee, keeps his eyes on his reflection. Inspecting his non-existent roots, styling his fringe to make it fall just so and applying a liberal amount of hair product.

Nonchalant and casual even as he offers something desperately personal about himself.

"James," you say, trying out the sound for yourself. A name that seems at odds with his loud K-Pop shell but you imagine a time before the fame and the celebrity and the pink hair and it somehow fits.

"James," you repeat, and receive a small smile in return. Then it drops as you add, “If you don’t get your ass in the car in the next five minutes I will kill you.”

.

.

“James,” you think to yourself before you drift off to sleep that night. 

How peculiar.

“James, James, James.”

.

.

Celebrities these days are multi-hyphenates.

DG is an Idol-CEO-Actor, or at least trying to add the last one onto his resume. On looks alone, he would have already gotten his foot through the door. Add on his reputation and popularity, he is drowning in offers.

What you personally dislike more with K-dramas scenes though, is how long things take. How much it revolves around other actors and their managers whereas DG being in the studio or filming a music video is pretty much all him.

This K-drama is supposed to be the next big thing. 

With the biggest names attached, including DG who is making a cameo. The cameo that was also scheduled to be filmed five hours ago but you have both just been lurking in his dressing room since.

Along with some measly snacks and refreshments, which the crew has been kind enough to provide. 

However, the snacks are all but gone (thanks to you) and the refreshments are dwindling and there is no end in sight.

DG, or James, as you have started to call him in your head, is on his phone. He’s always on his phone. Scrolling through news articles, responding to important emails and messages.

There’s only so much news or celebrity gossip you can take. You have exhausted your own social media feeds and you have spent far too much money on your gacha games and the guilt has set in.

You twiddle your thumbs on the sofa next to him as he takes no notice of your presence and you decide to rest your eyes. 

Why not anyway? DG doesn’t need anything right now, work won’t be interrupting you, and there’s nothing for you to do. Just for a minute or five. Until someone from the production team knocks on the door and announces that it’s time for his scene.

DG side-eyes you when he notices your breath start to slow and deepen. Falling asleep on the job, really?

Then you let out a snore before smacking your lips together a couple times and he holds back a snort. He reasons that he should let you have some time to rest. After all, you’re the one that drives him around, his life is in your hands everyday and tiredness kills.

He’s on his phone for a few more minutes, reading through more emails on PTJ Entertainment and out of the corner of his eye he notices you drooping.

Body slowly slumping to slouch over him, until your head makes contact with his shoulder and you’re snoozing happily on your newfound pillow.

It’s equal parts inappropriate and cute.

Ugh, DG is 99% sure you’re drooling on him and the wardrobe department isn’t going to be happy when he returns the outfit.

Either way, that’s not going to be his problem. He adjusts minutely, makes it just a touch more comfortable for you and continues to scroll.

.

.

You wake up to a wetness by your mouth, and to your horror, DG smirking down at you.

.

.

Despite none of this being your fault, you apologise to everyone about having to reschedule DG’s music video shoot due to the previous day’s K-drama delays.

To your relief, the music video goes swimmingly and without a hitch, and the production is wrapped up on time. 

You’ll happily bet that his new song will go straight to No.1. If not, then at least the sensual music video will guarantee DG remains top of mind for weeks. 

You’re updating your boss and even she seems to be pleased.

"This is just work." DG interrupts as you're mid call.

You look up at him, brows furrowed.

Holding your hand to your phone to mute the speaker, you whisper, "I know."

"Good," and he walks away leaving you as confused as ever.

It's not the first time you have seen him shoot an MV, which thank the heavens is so much more efficient than bloody k-dramas, and also not the first time that there's been scenes that emulate an intimate moment. Lips nearly brushing together. Hands roaming bodies under fake rain.

Even if DG notices that you're watching the scene, eyes glazed over and bored, he still felt the urge to explain to you that there's nothing between you and the leading lady in the video.

Once out of sight of everyone, he facepalms himself for his ridiculousness.

.

.

You’re right, and you absolutely love it when you’re right.

The song goes straight to No.1 and holds that position for weeks, fending off competition from boy bands and girl groups and other solo artists. Apparently it’s going to be the song of the summer.

The music video also breaks records for being the most watched within 24 hours.

DG only reviews it once for post-production checks and finds it just fine.

There’s something he can’t quite put his finger on that seems off with it.

He wonders what it would look like if it was you starring opposite him.

.

.

“Where on earth is he?” You grit your teeth and grip harder onto the umbrella that is threatening to be swept away by the wind.

And another thing with being DG’s manager: it’s fine if he’s late but not if it’s you.

(Although to be fair, this instance of him being late is likely due to this particular music producer he’s meeting with enjoying the sound of his own voice.)

You were running late exactly one time in the past, during the first couple days of managing him, when the skies opened and drenched the earth. 

Heavens forbid DG’s perfect, beautiful, flawless hair is ruined by the rain. 

It’s not like he looked like a drowned rat. The paparazzi caught him in a wet t-shirt, fabric clinging to his abs and his pink hair slicked back stylishly. Even the goddamn raindrops were running fashionably down his high cheekbones and dripping off his pout.

For the next week, the tabloids and internet forums went wild with how hot he looked. 

(Who knows, maybe that was the inspiration for his fragrance commercial.)

Nevertheless, DG was displeased and it made its way back to your boss how displeased he was.

Ever since, you have been the unfortunate soul waiting in all manners of weather for him. Rain storms, blistering sun, freezing snow.

Today, it’s your favourite. Rain. You shiver against the elements trying to take shelter under the building entrance canopy, the wind whipping the downpour every which way and you’re getting soaked regardless of how you angle your umbrella.

“Hurry up, DG.”

You check the time over and over. He would be early to his next appointment if he exited the building now. 

…On time.

…On time if the traffic was in your favour.

…Late, but not terribly so.

…Fashionably late.

… Late enough to piss everyone off in the room.

Shit. Just as you begin to fret, wondering if something has happened to him-

Clicks and flashes from cameras alert you to his royal highness finally making an appearance, ready to exit the studio and making his way over to the car.

He materialises by your side, and you mutter a familiar phrase to him. 

“You’re late.” 

It’s a mantra you’re tired of repeating, but he relishes if the amused grin is any indication.

Without a word, he takes off his trench coat and drapes it around your shoulders. His right hand covers yours over the umbrella handle, left wrapping around your waist as he guides you through the throng of reporters and fans.

“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath. 

You can imagine the optics now from the papers and your boss. It looks… Well. Not terrible but not the best.

“You’re soaked,” is all DG provides, accompanied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

He opens the driver’s door for you before he climbs into the passenger’s side.

.

.

Thank goodness for your gift of the gab.

He’s being a gentleman, you tell everyone that would listen. Isn’t this what Korea wants? An idol with manners and who looks after everyone? Is empathetic and caring?

Think how well it would resonate with the female demographic, who wants a boyfriend like this! The older boomer demographic, who thinks none of the young ‘uns have any manners anymore!

Your boss isn’t convinced until the advertising offers for umbrella companies roll in.

.

.

Truth be told, DG doesn’t know what possessed him to do that. Especially in front of cameras.

Though, it’s not like he could just let you get even more drenched could he? You’re standing there, looking pitiful and he was just going to let you hold the umbrella over him when he should be the one taking care of you-

Hold on.

DG frowns at himself.

Damn.

.

.

James Lee has never looked after anyone besides himself. You need to look after yourself if you are to survive this dog eat dog world. To make it atop the Pre-Generation, the First Generation and now the Second.

He had unfathomably high expectations of himself (that he managed to achieve) and low expectations for relationships (that hadn’t been proven wrong yet).

People have flitted in and out of the chapters of his life, no-one staying around for long. Definitely no-one staying around long enough to know him, for him to grow comfortable with. 

Perhaps it has been the forced closeness that has caused him to let his guard down. Cabin fever, in a sense.

But James Lee, Diego Kang, has himself also been around long enough to know there’s more to you and he wants more of you.

.

.

Finding reasons to spend time together isn’t difficult. Actually, finding reasons to spend time apart would be much harder.

You both get on with your jobs and your duties, even as the closeness grows day by day.

And every time when you’re alone and you call him James, his heart grows fonder.

.

.

Out of all the seats available in his apartment, James lounges next to you, long legs draping over yours.

It's another night in together.

These seem to be happening with increasing frequency. DG at least used to keep up appearances, networking with his fellow celebrities.

Parties where you used to look at him with distaste as starlets surrounded him, award shows that he couldn't care less about as you hung around in the background.

Now he prefers to stay in with you, using work as a thin excuse. Studying lyrics that he has already memorised, going over dances that are long ingrained in him.

"You're not going to her party?" You ask, you were sure this fan-favourite and DG were an item or had history. At the very least, the who's who of the industry always attended her gatherings.

"No," his eyes continue roving over the lines.

Then when you thought the conversation was done, he looks over the top of his paper, eyes sparkling with playfulness, "I prefer being here with you."

Oh. Your breath catches in your throat.

You think you might never breathe normally again.

.

.

No, that’s a lie. Any opportunities for rose-tinted glasses has long passed by. You both know each other too well for that.

You breathe perfectly fine. Actually, this morning you are taking deep breaths to try and centre yourself. 

It’s not working. 

“You’re always fucking late,” you snap, giving in to your anger.

Sometimes you think it is your fault for not watching over DG 24/7. That instead of going back home, you should just live with him so you can shake him awake when he is supposed to get up instead of when he wants to.

And does it hurt him to look the least bit contrite at making your life a misery? 

Why does he have to look so smug with a lollipop stick hanging out his mouth? Seriously, between all the rushing around this morning, when did he find time to look for goddamn candy?

“For fuck’s sake, James.” You’re speed walking towards his front door, looking at the Maps app on your phone and miss his smile at you snarling his name. 

You’re already running behind and every route to the recording studio is red due to roadworks or an accident or just plain ol’ congestion. “Shit!”

Your finger jabs at the elevator button multiple times.

“It’s not going to get there any quicker if you do that,” DG speaks lowly into your ear and you get the urge to pinch him.

Instead of prodding some more at the button, you turn around and prod him in the chest.

“You’re going to get me fired one of these days,” You growl. “It’s fine for you, Diego goddamn Kang, the star who is pretty much untouchable. I’m not. I’m replaceable. There’s a million people who would take my job-”

DG snatches your hand, holds it still. “You’re not replaceable.” Then adds with an infuriating grin, “So what if we’re late.”

The minivan is skipped, and his answer to your problem is his other pride and joy. A motorbike that looks far too aggressive and a complete death trap.

“I’m not getting on that,” you say as DG hands you leathers that materialised from god-knows-where and a spare helmet.

“Fine,” he says, shrugging and throwing a leg over. “I don’t think your boss will be happy.”

“Fuck!”

.

.

If this was any other situation, you would be acutely aware of yourself pressed up against DG’s back. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Except all you can focus on is that you’re going to fucking die. You think you might be screaming.

“Stop screaming!” His disembodied voice calls out. Oh. Turns out you are.

For some reason, DG had thought the helmets with built in speakers and mic would be better for communication. Fun, even. Frankly, you’re just giving him a headache.

(Not to mention the fact that he bought a spare helmet at all. And leathers that he thought would be exactly your size.

He had never rode with anyone before and you certainly had never expressed any interest. Yet he passed by a motorcycle store when he had rare time to spare, and visited on a whim.

If he dwelled on this anymore, DG is sure his headache would turn into a full blown migraine.)

Later that night, when the ringing in his ears finally subside, he will still think about the way you held him.

.

.

When public opinion is on your side, then that’s fantastic. Amazing. You tend to get away with all sorts of things.

When it’s not, the truth can become muddied and there’s mental gymnastics from all sides painting you as the villain.

Fortunately, public opinion generally works in DG’s favour, especially in the case of his stalker who got sentenced for more jail time than if she was harassing a normal person, but not long enough to account for all the distress she has caused.

Such is the criminal justice system.

Her date of release looms large and near. DG, despite his talent and fighting prowess, realises certain traumas can’t be erased.

He grows on edge. Skittish. Snaps at any and everything. It’s noted by journalists. Other managers gives you questioning looks

You don’t miss his change in demeanour. To you, the reason behind it is obvious. 

You’ve heard about this case, everyone has. It dominated headlines for almost a month: the crazy sasaeng fan who believed herself to be DG’s girlfriend before moving onto another poor soul and was finally arrested.

As he spirals, nothing you do or say to him manages to get more than a nod or a frown. You try to offer that she had fixated on someone else before she was arrested, hoping that was a small consolation to him. And though he managed a weak smile, the black cloud still hangs over him.

In the end, you pack your bags and arrive at DG’s one evening. Instead of letting yourself in like you usually would, you ring the buzzer, smile into the door camera and tell him “It’s me!”

The door swings open to reveal DG looking perplexed (and worse for wear). Head tilting, curious and inquisitive when he sees your suitcase and carrier bags full of snacks.

“I’m staying for a while.”

“According to who?”

You barge past him anyway with a grin.

.

.

The date of his stalker’s release arrives and passes without drama.

You miss your home comforts but it makes you happy to see DG’s mood genuinely improve as the days go on.

The luxurious oversized mattress, fancy spa shower, and jacuzzi bathtub also helps to make your stay a bit more bearable.

Not to mention each morning DG actually cooks breakfast for you. Turns out he’s not bad at all at playing a househusband, and it’s also maddening how he manages to get up each day before you when he hasn’t got any place to be.

“Thanks James,” you say, when he presents you with a home cooked meal and his smile grows a bit more each day.

.

.

Peace doesn’t last.

Blurry photos of you both leaving and entering DG’s apartment at all hours of the day and night make the front page of certain news sites.

Headlines scream with leading questions. 

“Relationship beyond Manager and Idol?”

“How a Manager seduced their Idol.” 

“Who is this mystery person that has tamed DG?”

Why anyone deemed it newsworthy is beyond you. You’ve been to his apartment a million times. 

Yes, you suppose the closeness of DG and yourself in the photos can look a little suspect. 

In this particular one, it looks like you have your hand caressing his chest when in actual fact you were shoving him away for a dismissive comment he made.

And the other photo, of his hand on your wrist, was actually him dragging you away when he spotted a herd of fans in the distance.

More pictures unveil themselves.

A snapshot of you driving and DG feeding you candy.

You and DG, whispering intimately in your ear as his supercar is being towed away in the background.

You red faced and drunk as DG piggybacks you outside your building.

His jacket wrapped around you, hand on your waist and angling the umbrella over you.

Him smiling down at you (ok, you admit that you didn’t realise how soft that looks to other people.)

Finally an exceptionally pixelated image of you both on his bike, that could be anyone really.

Unfortunately, your opinion is in the minority as the articles are inundated with comments and furious, tearful fans shrieking that their idol is betraying them. 

Simply unhinged.

.

.

The speculation grows. You’re damned if you do deny anything, damned if you don’t. Your talent agency puts out an official statement.

To your ire, the statement is ‘no comment’ rather than anything more definitive. You glare at James when you find out, suspecting he has something to do with this.

He gives you a shrug, and a familiar look of mischief.

To his credit, he doesn’t leave you completely to fend for yourself. You stay off social media for your sanity, and when the paparazzi hounds you, he's the one with his arm around you, cutting a path through the crowd and shielding you.

It adds fuel to the fire. Does nothing to help your case. 

Still, you can’t help feeling safe and secure with his hand guiding you - holding onto your waist, round your shoulder, or simply - 

Your hand in his.

.

.

Outside of the conference room, where DG is wrapping up a press release for his newest album and nothing else, a reporter slinks out and approaches you.

You’re used to being on the other side of the conversation. Part of the staff, herding DG through camera flashes and questions being thrown at him though there was always some sort of camaraderie. Both parties just trying to do their job with deadlines and targets to hit.

This time you just feel a weariness as you see this person making a beeline towards you.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They say, holding out their hand for a shake which you take with reluctance.

“Hi.”

A voice recorder is thrusted into your face, and you automatically take a step back. “Hope you don’t mind, but I just have a couple questions for you.”

“Um...”

“There’s been lots of sightings of you and DG together-”

You open your mouth to argue-

“Can you confirm your relationship with him?”

A vacant smile settles onto your face. It’s a practised expression where you follow all the cues to be polite and professional even as internally you wish to be anywhere but here. “I’m his manager.”

“Are you two together? Romantically?”

“I’m his manager.” You repeat through gritted teeth, and you’re surprised to hear your voice calm and collected.

“Is that a no? Or-”

“What even is this question?” You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks heat, and refusing to partake in this circus a moment longer. “This is over.”

You manage to at least catch them looking apologetic, before you stride off into a corner to take a deep breath.

.

.

DG, much more adept and experienced at fending off questions, had finished the conference early and caught the entire exchange, watching you both with a bemused look.

Walking towards you with quiet, measured footsteps, his hand settles onto your lower back as he murmurs your name.

He bites back a laugh at your small, startled jolt.

DG tilts his head to signal ‘this way’. You give him a look but follow him regardless. Trailing behind, moving far away from other prying eyes. 

Up a flight of stairs, through multiple fire doors, turning left then right then another right then maybe a left. It doesn’t matter. You’re hopefully lost and decide to just put your faith in this wretched idol.

He finally seems to find what he’s looking for as he reaches an empty corridor; stopping mid-step and you collide into his back.

“Ack!” You exclaim, hitting the solid wall of muscle.

He lets out a huff of laughter and whirls around to face you, noting how cute your look of surprise is.

How strange though, that this is his current position. But is it really unexpected that the person that has been by his side for months has finally worked their way into his heart and has somehow learned to read him when no-one else could?

If he really thinks about it, yes actually, it is unexpected. No-one else has managed to grow close to him before. As James Lee, as Diego Kang. Birds of a feather or opposites attract or everything in between, no-one has got him like you do. 

There’s still so much more to tell and show you but… First things first.

Fidgeting, you shift your weight from one foot to another, growing self-conscious waiting for DG to talk, only to find him staring intently at your face. Impatient, you give in and speak first.

“What is it?”

“...”

“Diego-”

“James.” He cuts in abruptly, “It’s just us right now. Please.”

You blink in shock at the please and correct yourself at his insistence, lowering your voice so it doesn’t echo down the empty hallway. “James, are you ok?”

“Better than ever,” he says, a smirk now pulling at his lips.

You register his change in mood and narrow your eyes, wondering where this is going. “Why are we here?”

“When the reporter asked if we were together, you said you’re my manager.”

“I am your manager.”

“But you are interested in me.”

It’s not a question. DG, no James, says it like a fact and there’s no doubt in your mind or his. You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Open it once more-

What.

You feel some cogs in your brain misfiring and all you can manage is a feeble, “Huh?”

“You told them you’re my manager, but didn’t say no to being with me.”

“...”

“So. What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“Us.”

“You like me. Tell me that I’m wrong.”

You take a step back. “...”

Another step. “...”

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

And your back hits the wall with an oomph.

DG slaps his hand on the wall beside your head, bends at the waist and leans his weight forward until he’s eye level with you. “Tell me and I promise I’ll stop.”

“...”

You’re cornered and he searches your face for a response.“Y/N?”

“...”

Fuck. Fuck!

How on earth are you supposed to respond when he looks at you like this. When his face is millimetres from yours and his breath is on your skin and his dark eyes pierces into your soul, pupils blown deliciously wide.

With his stupid pink hair and his fringe flopping, framing his face and his high cheekbones.

The stupid canines of his poking out that gives him so much character and is so hot it hurts when he flashes it accompanied with an arched brow and an arrogant smile.

His stupid pout and his stupid lips, that you know is constantly moisturised with a fancy overpriced lip balm to make it look kissable for the cameras.

And Jesus Christ, you hate to admit it but they do. They 100% do because somewhere in the back of your brain you always knew they look kissable but it has been often clouded by just simply how annoying and bratty you found him.

Except right now you don’t find him annoying or bratty at all.

Even as he’s confessing his feelings with complete confidence, no unease, no anxiety or doubts, because he always had a way of worming under your skin and he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

Damn it all.

“Kiss me,” you tell James, and he isn’t surprised at all by your reaction, face lighting up at your confirmation.

He shifts. 

Hand coming up to cup your cheek. He rubs his thumb twice over your skin, savouring you any way he can before tilting your face towards his. His lips at first brushes against your forehead. Leaves a trail down your nose, peppers both cheeks and then your chin. 

He draws back once, takes in your sweet face and gives you a smile so soft it makes your heart hurt.

Then finally, after wanting this for so long, presses his lips against yours.

Diego Kang, James Lee, tastes like candy and sugar.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

DARE TO DISAPPOINT. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader — angst & smut

summary. you and bucky arrange to meet your friends for the first time, but he doesn’t show up. you find out the reason why while he attempts to make it up to you

word count. 2.7k

warnings. 18+ only! little bit of one-sided arguing at the beginning. hurt reader, teasing bucky, cunnilingus, pinv, resolved ending. mdni

Plans change and sometimes that’s okay. You’re grown enough to deal with it though you often expected better. You expected better from Bucky. 

Earlier in the week, you and your friends arranged to meet at a nice restaurant, the purpose of the hangout designed to introduce them to your boyfriend, Bucky. It was the natural step after several months of dating. And after a few change-abouts with the date, and accommodating last-minute personal life popups, it was all set in stone. The date of the introduction known to you, Bucky and your friends.

It was the day of your hangout —the night of— and Bucky was yet to return home. The minutes slowly turned into an hour and an hour slowly turned into two. Your texts and calls were yet to be unanswered and you couldn’t help but notice the nervous pit grow in your stomach.

It wasn’t like him. He’s not the kind of guy that would stand you up. That’s essentially what this was – you arranged a date, got dressed all nice and now he left you hanging. 

You’re sitting on the sofa, heels on the floor and phone in hand as you reread your messages, looking at your string of unresponded texts. This was getting ridiculous.

And as if he were right on cue, you hear keys jingle, the opening sound of your front door following shortly after. The silhouette of Bucky appearing through the gap.

“I’m so s—” he says as soon as his eyes fall on you, his features softened.

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head at him. 

His head faintly tilts as he walks over to you, his hand reaching for your shoulder. “Honey,” he practically coos, his voice gentle. 

But you shrug off his touch, moving your arm away from his attempt of physical comfort. 

“You can’t do that,” you turn to look at him, your eyebrows furrowing as if to further show your frustrations. 

You pick up your shoes from the floor, slinking your fingers in the straps as you stand. You turn on your foot and head for your bedroom down the hall, not so much as giving him another glance – almost blanking him. 

He doesn’t let you get far, his hurried footing chasing after you. “Baby,” he whispers, the pet name faint and gentle. Like he was appeasing you, an attempt of amends.

But again, you ignore it, making your way into your room to unready yourself and get out of your dress. 

“Come on,” he lingers in the doorway, watching you walk around your room. “Don’t shut me off, talk to me. Get angry at me, just say something,” he says, speaking like it was like a plea. 

You turn around to face him, a lounge t-shirt grasped tight in hand. “You want me to get angry?” you scoff, tone fairly amused. 

“Yes,” he nods, eyes soft as he looks at you. “I upset you. I hurt you. Tell me that.”

You scoff once more and throw your tee on the bed. “You want me to get angry? Okay fine,” you snap. “You disappointed me. We arranged to meet my friends but you never showed up. You made me sad. You pissed me off. You don’t do that, okay? Not to your girlfriend,” you glare at him, getting everything off your chest – repeating the things you said to yourself while you were waiting for him. “That’s the third time we’ve had to cancel, do you know how embarrassing that is?”

He nods, never once retaliating – taking in everything you say.

“James,” you pause, taking a breath. “If you don’t want to meet them, just tell me. Okay? Don’t mess me around,” you say, words far calmer once you realise you were not being met with anger, but instead comprehension. 

He was understanding you, listening to you. Anger a far-distant emotion of his.

“I am sorry,” he nods, action reaffirming his apology. He steps into your room, waiting hesitantly near your bed – standing on the opposite side as you. 

“You could’ve called me. I would’ve understood,” you say, voice almost defeated as you sit on the edge of the bed, your back to him. “I know how you get… just tell me next time.”

He makes his way around the bed to you on the other side, halting when he’s in front of you. “I know,” he says, eyes focused down on you in your seated position. 

You stiffen your features, straightening them so he doesn’t see your facade weaken into a smile.

He could see the slip, his own expression mirroring yours. “Forgive me,” he whispers, leaning over to peck your forehead. 

You cock your head at him, amusement in your eyes when you watch him bend to the floor, taking a knee before you. 

Bucky extends a hand towards you, palm gliding across your face to cup it, his eyes warm as he looks over you. “Come on,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Say you forgive me, just say it,” he mutters into your cheek —the opposite one to his hold— speaking softly into your skin. He thumbs the apple of your cheek, swiping over it as he presses a kiss into your lips. “You know you want to,” he lingers, whispering into them. “Let me make you forgive me.”

Your chest heaves at his tempts, the juxtaposing sides of your brain conflicting, each one fighting for leadership. You wanted to forgive him as you knew it was not in his character, but then again, he knew about this date. He knew it was important, yet he was late – didn’t show. 

So, you pull your head back slightly to look at him, eyes honing in on his lust-filled ones. He means it. 

You squint at him, the action playful.

“See,” he smiles, features gentle. “It’s not hard.”

You glance down at him. “It’s not?” you tease, suddenly forgetting the outrage mere moments before.

He cocks his head, chuckling with a sweet, boyish smile. “No, that is.”

“That’s a shame,” you say, your hands reaching to the sides of his face, fingers  grazing back into his hair. “Problem is,” you start, leaning in to kiss him briefly. “I’m tired from waiting around, so I was thinking about going to bed. Get an early night.”

His hands move to your thighs, one metal, one fleshed palm firm on the swell of your upper legs. “Bed?” he repeats, his touch rising to sit under the fabric of your dress. “Well, what would you say about me staying over?”

“I don’t know,” you play along, entertaining him. “It is quite late though, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” he nods, leaning forward once more to speak against your lips. “Maybe I should stay,” he utters to them, punctuating his tempt with a kiss.

Your hands around his face fall to his shoulders, your arms draping loosely over them as you pull him back in, kissing him with a little more urgency than before. “Maybe you should,” you mutter into his mouth.

He can read between the lines, he’s not an idiot. Sure he’s a man, but he’s not completely clueless. 

That little silent agreement from you was all he needed, the hints of willingness showing him he was in the midst of your forgiveness. And so with his hands still on your thighs, he raises them just that bit higher, his fingers skimming the very inners. 

“Forgive me yet?” he asks, pads of his fingers bumping against your fabric-covered cunt.

You firmly shake your head ‘no,’ wordlessly telling him he had a lot more to do than kiss you and touch your thighs. The simple act only spurring him on more.

He hums and pulls away from you, his eyes landing on your legs – gaze honing on his fingers just mere centimetres away from your pussy. He keeps his eyes down as he follows his movements, his fingers grazing up to slink into the waistband of your underwear.

Without a moment to think on it, your hips are lifting, the action helping him take them off. He tugs on them gently, pulling them under your ass and over your thighs, being sure to drag them over your skin as he does it. Letting the fabric caress you.

Your eyes are focused on your thighs like his are, each micro movement being watched eagerly by the pair of you. Each of you following the motion of their removal, the skimpy fabric momentarily caught around your knees – underwear spread between your parted legs before falling to your ankles.

He moves forward, his body slotting between you as his right, fleshed hand resumes its prior position in the crease of your upper thigh. His touch light and teasing.

His thumb extends out, tip of it knocking just under your clit. The feeling eliciting a soft, breathy noise into the close distance between. He keeps his eyes on yours as he does it again, prodding his thumb to the nub to get the same reaction. And he gets it, that same response of a delicate, whiney sound. The same sound causing a strain in his boxers. 

“Sounds like you forgive me,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you briefly, the slight force of him pushing you back into the mattress behind you. 

Your legs spread instinctively as he pushes himself closer, your eyes still focused on him in your laid position. 

“Getting close,” you quip, your reply a double entendre.

He hums, the view of his smile disappearing as he ducks down between your thighs, his face itching closer to your cunt. Brushing up the hem of your dress, he presses a kiss to the inner of your thigh, lips lingering for a mere moment.

With your hands having a mind of their own, you reach down to his head, your fingers skimming through his hair as a way to hold him close. Your grip light as you keep him where you want him.

He presses another kiss into your thigh, this time it’s in the crease. The contact of him so close to where he was needed pushed your mind further into a tizzy. 

As he circles your pussy with kisses, he’s sure to avoid your clit – being mindful to ignore the mound of nerves. Making you wait for it.

His little teasing games aren’t going to cut it tonight. It was your forgiveness he needed, so him making you wait, for the second time was not what you wanted. So, with your hands in his hair, you direct him, guiding him closer to your cunt – nudging him to the places where you need his touch.

Your cues go noticed. His lips moving to wrap around your clit, tongue slipping between to flick over it – the ache in your pussy being alleviated instantly with the brisk contact. The grip in his hair tightens as your hips unknowingly buckle, a gentle wind knocking you further into his face. The tip of his nose skimming your pubic bone.

Taking the hint, he does it again. His tongue laid flat against the nub as he encapsulates it between his lips, warm wet mouth attached to you like a suction cup.

And before long, he’s making it up to you by making out with your cunt. Working you up impossibly more until you’re writhing and grinding against him, crying obscenities into the air til you’re on the cusp of your high. Mere moments from falling into that deep end.

Though before you get there, the elated feeling is stripped from you. His tongue and lips lifting from its position. His selfish, cruel trick leaving you panting and gasping and whining frustratedly. 

“Are you trying to make me hate you?” 

“What?” he questions, voice teasing as he stands. His upper body hovering over you with hands situated either side, weight anchored from above. “No,” he whispers, head shaking softly as he leans to press a kiss to your lips. “Never.”

With one hand, you cup his face, holding him there as you deepen the kiss – tasting yourself on his tongue. Your other slips down to his waist, eager fingers dancing over the exposed slither of skin. The urgency clear with your soft, muffled breaths into his mouth.

“I will,” you utter, pulling away to speak against his lips. You drop your other hand to his waist, mirroring the desperate grabs on the band of his pants. “I will hate you.”

“You can never hate me,” he murmurs into your jaw, solidifying his statement with a string of fluttery kisses down the length of your throat.

That part’s true.

He balances on his left, metal arm, his fleshed one sliding between you both and down the front of his combat pants. A slight bulge forming in the constricting fabric, his meaty wrist being the reason.

Your legs bend at the knee on instinct, your thighs spreading and adjusting to his lower half more comfortably. Knees hugging at his sides as he palms his cock, readying himself. He pumps it a few brisk times after pulling himself over the waistband, eager dick hard and heavy resting over his belt. His hand moves to his mouth to spit into the palm, and with that added little bit of lubrication, he grabs a hold of himself once more, working the saliva over the tip.

With his soft, baby blues honed in on yours, he focuses, his gaze never leaving yours as he guides himself towards you under your dress. The movement comes from a place of muscle memory, the motion fluid from repeating the act dozens of times before. He doesn’t even need to look to know how far away he is from you.

And as the head of his cock knocks against your cunt upon first contact, you involuntarily let out a soft, breathy exhale, the sound blissed and relieved. He swirls his tip around you, circling through your folds to pick up that residual spit – using that like lube.

He lines himself with you, hand firm around the middle of his dick as he eases into you, pushing inside slowly. His eyes still focused on yours, they mirror his, a sort of softness spreading in them the more he starts to fill you, stretch you.

You pull him back down to your eagerly, hands slipping up to the curve of his back to make him resume his prior hovering position. You hold onto him tightly, your chest rising and falling in such a way you fear your lungs may explode, the quick pace a physical tell of the way he affects you. He makes you feel so much.

He ducks his head, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, the motion in his hips halting with only half of himself wedged inside.

“I’m sorry,” he says, words soft between the close distance of your lips.

“For what?” you ask, bringing a hand to hold his head, the palm cupping sweetly over his cheek. “For earlier?”

He hums, pulling away to look at you. His grasp reflecting yours, his fleshed hand holding the side of your face.

“What happened?” you question, looking off to the side as you graze through his hair. “I thought you were excited about meeting them.”

“I was. I am. I just,” he pauses, distracting himself by thumbing over your lips, his eyes following the outline motion. “What if they don’t like me?”

You stare at him, brows furrowing quizzically as the doubt-filled question settles in your ears. What on earth makes him think that?

“Why would they not like you?” you ask, redirecting your focus to his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

“If they were to hate anyone, it would be me,” you smile softly, thumbing over his temple. “They’d be so jealous when they see who I’m with.”

He chuckles faintly, head shaking at the compliment. 

“I’m being serious,” you whisper back, extending your neck to kiss him briefly. “They know how special you are to me,” you pause to kiss him again, trying to butter him up – make him feel better. “They’ll love you, because you love me.”

He smiles faintly against your lips, a soft boyish grin stretching across his face. “We can still make it tonight,” he suggests.

You shake your head ‘no’, the offer appreciated, but not wanted. “We can arrange something another time,” you drop a hand to his very lower back, your fingers pawing at him – silently asking him to wind his hips. “Tonight. I just want you.”

**not my artwork, I don’t know the artist either

[biteyoubiteme]

fit check

fem!reader x choi yeonjun x huening kai

synopsis: yeonjun buys you some new clothes and wants you to try them on for him and huening.

warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, threesome, praise, nipple play, oral (f!rec), fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), overstim, unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, she/her used. prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3k

an:  this is kinda a part two of busy signal but you don't need to read that to read this or the other way around. feedback appreciated :)) [m.list]

“Did one of you order something huge?” you ask using your foot to push in the box that you had to sign for. it was heavy enough that you didn’t even want to try and carry it in your arms. 

Kai and Yeonjun are laid out on the couch, both of them paying no attention to the TV in front of them as they scroll on their phones. you had been studying in the office coming out for a second to grab some water when the knock came for the delivery. 

“I didn’t,” Kai pipes up his phone illuminating him from the nose up, he is clutching one of the oversized stuffies he keeps on the couch. 

you push the box into their view and Yeonjun sits up a grin taking over his face. “I did,” he tosses his phone down on the couch forgetting about it as he moves to pick up his keys from the hook by the door. the little fox charm dangling from his fist as he uses the key to cut the tape open. 

inside is another box, matte black and tied with a bow. Yeonjun hands you his keys to replace as he pulls this box out to set down on the coffee table. 

The three of us are now only interested in seeing the contents inside. it wasn’t unusual for any one of us to receive a box but usually not this big. Yeonjun sits back down waving at you to follow suit and take your usual seat between the two of them, placing the box right in front of you. huening pulled himself up to give you room so as not to sit on his outstretched legs. 

“Open it,” Yeonjun says, bumping his shoulder with yours. 

“me?” and he chuckles. “I got you a gift, open it,” 

you can’t help but grin as you grab the end of the ribbon on the front, “it’s not something that will jump out and scare me is it?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, at least not without recording your reaction,” you roll your eyes flipping the lid of the box up. you’re met with tissue paper folded neatly and secured with a sticker the label for a designer brand. the size of the box meaning it wasn’t a small bill. “Go on,” he nudged you after you paused. you try to tear the paper as little as possible folding it back to see the folded garments inside. 

there had to be about three full outfits in there, your fingers dragging over the fabrics. “oooo” Kai hums as you pull out a pleated skirt dark gray and heavy. 

“I saw a campaign for their new collection and all I could think about was you wearing all this,” he pulls out a soft sweater as Kai reaches in and pulls out a sheer pair of tights. “go try it on,” 

you take the sweater from him standing to take it into the other room. “don’t forget these,” Kai says, passing over the tights. 

Yeonjun loves to dress you up, picking outfits, and having a little fashion show in the living room wasn’t uncommon but it still always made you nervous to know they were waiting in the other room for you. All their attention ready to be placed on you. 

you were currently dressed in your pajamas nearly ready to turn in for bed after your studying. when you pull off your sleep shirt to replace it with the sweater you don’t move to put on a bra. your gentle pulling on the thin tights making sure not to snag them with your nails. and when you pull on the skirt you realize how short it is. it only just barely covers your ass if you leaned over you would flash anyone behind you. 

when you make it back out to the living room your hands are laced in front of you a bit shy. Yeonjun is leaning back with his arm thrown over the back of the sofa, Kai holding his stuffie to his stomach, hands on his elbows hugging it. their gaze makes your cheeks heat, “come here,” Yeonjun beacons leaning forward so he can lean his elbows on his knees. 

your stockinged feet feel cold against the hardwood as you try not to slip from how silky the tights are. Yeonjun reaches out once you’re close enough, his hot hand sliding from the back of your knee up your thigh until it cups the flesh of your ass under the skirt. you shiver, reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders. “It's kinda short,” you whisper, not realizing it would come out so breathy but Yeonjuns fingers are long enough to brush your inner thigh, high enough to almost graze your center. 

“I like it,” Kai’s voice is throaty and he swallows to try and clear it. when you look at him he’s pink from his cheeks to his ears. 

“do you?” you twist your hips just enough to make the fabric sway but the move makes Yeonjuns fingers slip right against your clothed core. Yeonjuns smirk cocky as he squeezed your inner thigh. He knows that look on your face like the back of his hand. that gleam in your eyes telling him everything he needs to know, kai noticed it too. the way you were pressing your knees together trying to trap Yeonjuns hand from moving further up, to the way your grip on his shoulders was tightening. 

If Yeonjun did inch higher he would find that you were growing wet under their inspection. Yeonjuns free hand cups your hip, thumb pressing hard into you. “open,” 

The single word is a demand that makes your knees weak. you shake your head and Yeonjun raises his eyebrows. “worried to make a mess all over your new tights?” if you could blush harder you would. “because I don’t care,” his fingers slip higher even without you opening your legs for him. you want to be embarrassed by how wet you are and he has barely touched you at all because you know he can feel your arousal through the thin material of the tights and your panties. The grin he gives while running his tongue along the inside of his cheek only makes it worse.  

“huening how wet do you think she already is?” he doesn’t need to look over to know Kai’s watching the two of you. Yeonjun is too busy gauging your reaction to the painstakingly slow drags of his fingers. 

“soaking,” the word a breath in the room. Someone had turned off the TV before you came back in after changing. 

“why don’t you let huening feel hum?” and then his hands are gone. Your whine is unnoticed as he taps your ass to tell you to listen to him. 

you walk over to Kai who’s biting his inner lip ready to draw blood. “Do you want to touch me hyuka?” 

he doesn’t answer before he reaches out for you. thumb sliding under the skirt and circling your clit. the sensation races up your spine and you grab his forearm to still yourself. 

Yeonjun stands behind you pushing your hair to the side to kiss behind your ear. you can feel how hard he is as he leans into you, his hands going under your sweater to cup your breasts. 

At the same time he pinches your nipples Kai flicks your clit. you jump nails digging into Kai’s arm, Yeonjun kissing down your neck to your shoulder. Kai goes back to rubbing soft circles in apology. 

Yeonjun lifts the sweater off of you, tossing it back into the box still filled with the forgotten outfits you hadn’t tried yet. Yeonjun takes all your hair into a ponytail before tugging your head back onto his shoulder giving Kai full access to your uncovered tits. Kai has no hesitation before wetting his lips and sucking marks on your skin, his teeth grazing your nipples. Yeonjuns voice hot in your ear, “Lay down on huening and I’ll take care of you okay?” 

you nod hurriedly as he lets you go, Kai leaning back against the armrest of the couch. He opens his legs to fit you against him, your back to his chest, his lips to your temple. 

he’s achingly hard wedged under you, hands cupping your breasts and tugging your nipples as Yeonjun takes off his shirt. he leans down on the couch between your legs pushing up your skirt and when you think he’s going to tug down your tights and panties he instead hooks his fingers in at the crotch of the fabric and rips the thin material. 

“jjunie!” your hand shoots out to grab him but the damage is done. “I liked those,” you pout but Yeonjun only laughs lips on your thigh and the reverberation is a direct link to your clit. “I bought you three pairs,” 

“it’s wasteful-“ but you can’t finish your sentence when he pushes your panties aside and gives a hard suck to your clit. your head lobs back and you moan into Kai’s ear. 

“Look at you, so responsive to our touch,” Kai kisses your throat, “and you sound so pretty,” another whimper leaves you as Yeonjun flicks his tongue. 

Yeonjun pulls away and you try to raise your hips to follow him but Kai reaches out a hand to lay flat against your stomach pushing you down. you whimper wiggling against his hold but it only makes him moan in response to the feel of you rubbing against his cock, almost painful. 

Yeonjun lets his tongue barely touch you, bushing your folds up and down before ghosting his lips in the same way. you’re squirming and he grips your thighs hard. “patience baby or do I need to stop?” 

“no please jjunie I need you,” and you twitch as he leans back down to give a feather-light kiss to your clit. Your cry in frustration makes them both chuckle. 

Yeonjuns teeth brush against your inner thigh as he cups the back of your knee pushing your legs wider. He nips on your skin right over the ripped fabric of the tights before his fingers shock you by gathering your slick. 

He's gentle as he rubs you tracing your entrance before going back up to your clit. the moment he puts his mouth back on you, you know you’re going to cum. he knows it too and it’s why he’s not doing it yet. “please junnie,” you rock your hips forward as best as you can with Kai holding you in place. 

Yeonjun ignores you circling your entrance before plunging in. You’re breathless as he pumps in slowly trying to get you used to the feeling before he curls his fingers tapping against the spot that makes your brain stop working. one of your hands reaches up to twist your fingers in Kai’s hair the other reaches down to grip Kai’s wrist. the way that he’s pushing down on your pelvis makes Yeonjuns fingers feel incredible. 

Yeonjun gives slow strokes stopping every once in a while to press on your magic gummy spot until he finally latches onto your clit again, sucking until you see stars. 

you’re completely trembling and weak as you cum, Kai tugging on your left nipple his mouth behind your ear. Yeonjun doesn’t stop until you’re tearing up and when he does he gives each mark he made on your thigh a kiss. 

you’re breathing hard as Kai rubs up and down your ribs with his right hand. you hear the sound of Yeonjuns belt buckle being undone and you lazily watch as he strips. 

veiny cock already leaking precum as he takes it into his hand still wet from your juices. your legs instantly widen at the sight, pussy clenching around nothing. 

yeonjun drinks in the sight of you spread out and ready for him, he won’t last long. 

He climbs over you and Kai presses his face into your neck. “you’re going to take everything I give you right?” 

“yes,” your breathy response is lost in a moan as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. 

he pushes in without warning completely bottoming out in one thrust stilling as he gives a guttural moan against your skin. kai’s hand snakes down between you and Yeonjun, tapping your clit making you clench around Yeonjun. “if you keep doing that I won’t be able to move,” and you don’t know who he’s talking about and you don’t care because he pulls out slowly before slamming right back in. 

Your body jolting against Kai’s cock makes him whine the hold he has on your nipple is sharp and painful but it’s a direct line to your impending orgasm. 

yeonjun doesn’t slow his pace for a second, his hands on the sides of both you and Kai’s heads as he drills into you. 

kai rubs at your clit and you’re shaking all over again, tears leaking from the overstimulation. you cum in a silent gasp yeonjun pressing his mouth on yours to catch your breath. the feeling of you milking him sending him over the edge stilling all movement as he shoots hot cum deep inside you. He moans into your mouth giving weak strokes as he rides out his high. 

When he finally pulls out you can feel your combined release slipping down your folds and onto Kai’s sweatpants. 

you feel limp but yeonjun picks you up to let Kai move from underneath you. He pulls himself up to sit against the couch properly, yeonjun brushing your hair back from your face. your legs are completely weak and trembling as you try to weigh down on them but yeonjun guides you to straddle huening. “You can’t neglect Kai, I'm sure you can take one more load can’t you?” but when your knees hit the couch you fall over kai wrapping your arms around his head and tangling your fingers into his hair. you’re still dripping onto his pants as you give a nod. 

Kai's hands are wrapped around your waist holding you up before he reaches down to tug his cock free. when it bumps your clit you jolt up your cry pressed right into his ear. 

“I’ll take good care of you, baby, I promise,” he kisses your bicep before notching himself at your entrance and pushing upwards as slowly as possible, your pussy already swollen. Yeonjun and Kai are nearly the same size, only Kai is slightly girthier making the stretch noticeable. you’re holding onto Kai for dear life but once he fully settles into you you’re vibrating, trembling, and ready to cum in a breath of a second. 

Kai holds your hips steady before pulling out all the way. He inches back in and your head lobs back in a moan from the corner of your eye you see yeonjun fisting himself already hard again. 

huening feels like he’s pressed right against your cervix, brushing so deep you want to just sit still because even without thrusting you could cum from the feel of him. 

kai’s fingers are digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as he tries to keep his steady pace but you know he wants to go faster. “it’s okay hyuka I can take it,” you try to nod to make yourself believe your words but you don’t know if your legs can take it. 

“Can you?” because he’s not sure he believes it but when you give him another okay he can’t resist any longer. 

without pulling out he flips the two of you so that you’re on your back, head resting on the plushie he had been using to hide his hard on the second you walked out in that tiny skirt. he leans back to tug off his sweatshirt balling it up to tuck under your lower back. The movement sends him deeper into you and he folds a choked moan leaving him as he feels your hot warm walls surrounding him, his pelvis pressed into yours. 

feeling yeonjun fuck you was almost torture if you had moved anymore against Kai’s cock he would have cum instantly. and now you’re looking over huening shoulder to see yeonjun trying to restrain himself from cumming again. 

you’re so easy to slip in and out of, so wet and slippery Kai gets lost in pounding into you. the room is filled with the choir of your combined moans. kai ravages your pussy chasing his orgasm, pumping over and over again like it’s the last thing he will do. you’re so sensitive and full that you’re falling over the edge again in seconds. 

The scratching down Kai’s back and the feel of your orgasm makes him stutter in his thrusts before he unloads his warmth in you. he grabs the back of your knee lifting your leg making you cry as he sinks his hips deeper before stilling completely inside you. 

when he pulls out you’re so beaten you hadn’t noticed yeonjun had followed the two of you to your climax and was laid back with cum all over his stomach. 

kai keeps your leg raised as he prods at your still throbbing pussy, dragging your lips aside to watch as your combined arousal spills out with each residual pulse. with one long finger he scoops up the cream before shoving it back inside you. “the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,”  

yeonjun stands gazing over you, “the prettiest,” he agrees before dragging his finger through the mess he made on himself. kai pulls his finger out before yeonjun shoves his in. You jerk back as he pumps in his cum as if he wasn’t already staining your insides. He takes his hand away tugging your panties into place. 

“Let's get you cleaned up and then we can see the rest of the outfits I picked out for you, yeah?”

[foreingersgod]

Pls pls something about emily engstler where the reader ( they can be friends at the beginning) keeps staring at her tattoos especially on her hands and emily catches her

Tattoos . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

A/N: i’m thinking let’s stay home pt 2 next??

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“what’re you staring for?” a familiar voice sounded from across the couch. it was so sultry, so smooth. you couldn’t help that your body was drawn to it instantly.

it was a normal day, you and your girlfriend tucked away in the comfort of your home for the weekend. she had had a rough week of intense practice and you had a draining week of work, so the both of you decided to take some time to relax. but it was a dangerous game for you, emily within your reach at all times. she was practically irresistible and you found yourself gawking at her nearly every chance you got.

she was quite literally the hottest person on the planet in your eyes. her hair, her body, her lips, her eyes…everything about her made you crazy. but your favorite thing about her, that made you want to pounce on her at any given moment, are her tattoos. you really couldn’t explain it, why you were so drawn to them. the intricate designs that littered her skin just had some sort of grasp on you, had you drooling like a teen girl over her high school crush. you would squeeze your thighs together in desperation as you’d watch her hand run down her face, ink ridden fingers mindlessly tracing the outline of her lips. god the things it did to you. how her muscles would flex when you’d watch her work out, your eyes glued to the way the tattoos moved with them. everything she did, you’d be admiring the beautiful works of art.

emily wasn’t quite aware of your fixation with her tattoos. rather she knew you liked them, but clueless to the near obsession you had. she never caught onto the stares or the amount of times you’d trace them with your fingernails when you’d lay in bed at the end of the night. she had always figured you’d liked them just like any normal person would. so you would continue on with your infatuation, let yourself indulge every now and then without her noticing.

until now.

“hm?” you blinked rapidly, shaking yourself out of a daydream.

your legs were draped over hers as you laid horizontally across the couch, your head rested against the cushioned arms of the sofa. emily was running her hands up and down your shins aimlessly, making little imaginary drawing here and there. she was scrolling on her phone to pass the time and you were sat there, just looking. for the past, probably 10 minutes, you sat there watching her. watched how her tatted fingers glided smoothly along your skin. watched how they moved effortlessly. it was hypnotizing to watch, getting lost in the print on her fingers. you couldn’t lie, you were getting hot and bothered just thinking about those fingers.

when you had emerged from your fantasies, finally looking over at emily, she was already staring back at you. her phone now discarded somewhere next to her and her gaze glued to you. her fingers had stopped tracing and she had one eyebrow quirked at you in curiosity.

“you’ve been staring at me for like 10 minutes” her head tilted to the side, she was so damn cute “everything ok? is something wrong?”

“m’not staring” you pursed your lips. now it was your fingers, fiddling senselessly out of nerves. you were too embarrassed to admit that you’d been caught.

she just chuckled, tongue running along her bottom lip. her hand rose up to scratch at the back of her neck in amusement at your poor excuse of a lie.

“come on, baby” her eyes still shooting daggers into you, eyelids low but still alluring and intrigued “don’t lie t’me”

“i’m not, honest! i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you scoffed playfully, hoping she wouldn’t pry any further. but you knew she would. she always did.

“i’m talking about how the whole time we’ve been sitting here you’ve been eyeing me”

“i have not” you emphasized even more.

“oh really?” she said, and you nodded in return. she leaned in closer to you and you watched as her eyes flickered down to your lips and back to your eyes “then why is it that every time my hand reaches your thigh your breathe catches in your throat?”

if your breathe wasn’t hitching when she was touching you, it certainly was now. she looked so divine, practically hovering over you just to tease you like this. you wanted to be mad at her for making you feel so humiliated, but how could you when she was so tempting.

“talk to me,” her voice lowered to a rasp “you know exactly what i’m talking about”

unable to handle the heat, already feeling the blush creep onto your face, you sighed in defeat. you bit your lip and squeezed yours eyes shut as you tried to think of the right words to say. how does one say your tattoos make me want to tear off your clothes and take you right here, right now without sounding like a freak?

“it’s embarrassing, emily. don’t make me say it”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed around me, baby, s’ok” she was met with a moment of silence as you groaned in frustration “why were you staring?”

“your…” another sigh fell from your lips, you were at a loss for words “your tattoos”

“my tattoos?” she smirked “what about them?”

“they’re just so, i don’t know, attractive?” your body cringed as you said it. you tried to avoid her gaze to ease the shame you felt, but you couldn’t help but catch how her smirk formed into a toothy grin “like…god this is so stupid…like they just look so good on you and you look so fucking good all the time. and i just can’t stop looking at you, em, i’m sorry”

with a new found confidence, you continued “your fingers, just the tattoos on them…oh my god emily you have no idea what you do to me. even when you’re just sitting here i can’t resist you”

“wow” she breathed out, lips curled tauntingly “can’t resist me, huh?”

“shut up”

“no no” another laugh fell from her lips. but this time it was soft and relaxed, not seductive to try and coerce some confession out of you “it’s cute, babe. you shouldn’t be embarrassed”

you just rolled your eyes at her, part of you still irritated that you were put in such a position, but another part of you relieved she didn’t mind.

emily let her hands fall down to you legs again, palms flat against you. you could feel the slight callousness of her skin. they pressed into the plushness of your thighs gently as they agonizingly crept their way towards you. she kept her eyes on you, eyelashes low, lips slightly parted. your mouth fell dry as her hands approached the bottoms of your shorts. her fingers toyed with the hems, then eventually pushing their way past the loose fabric until she was met with the silky skin of your hip just under your shorts. then, with little warning, she let her head lower down to your neck. her breathe was hot against you as she let her lips attach, kissing along your body. you gasped upon feeling the sudden sensation, your hands flying up to the back of her head in an attempt to brace yourself.

“all this over some tattoos?” she whispered into your neck “baby…you’re killing me”

“will you be quiet and just kiss me?” you blurted, unable to handle the built up tension.

“anything for you”

and with that, her lips were on yours in an instant. your bodies melting into each other as she showed you just how much she loved you with those damned tattoos.

[hazbinshusk]

husk x afab!reader. finally expanding on my idea of torturing husk with phone sex while he's stuck tending the bar. unable to join you as long as he has guests in the lobby, and unable to reciprocate for the same reason, husk is left hard as a rock but desperate to keep listening to you come undone. featuring: sex toys, masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, soft!dom husk, cherri and angel being pains in the ass, and a frustrated bartender. 1.4k.

Husk growls beneath his breath as the newly-installed phone on the wall behind him trills at a tone that he swears is specifically designed to grind against his last nerve. Which, knowing Alastor, it might very well be. He mutters an irritated curse under his breath as he unhooks the receiver and brings it to his ear.

“What?”

A soft giggle comes as the reply, and he softens immediately, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Y’know, we really need to talk about your bedside manner, baby. That was a little too hostile for one of the residents.”

“Doll?” Husk’s voice shifts, relaxing into that velvety tone he reserves just for you.

“Last I checked,” you reply merrily. “Now about the way you answer the phone…”

He hums, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Al makes me answer the phone. He didn’t say I have to be happy ‘bout it. Hell, if anything, the bastard probably prefers it if I ain’t.”

“A good point.”

“And I don’t know if answerin’ the phone at the bar needs a ‘bedside manner’, pet.”

He can practically hear the teasing smirk in your voice. “But what if the hotel resident is in bed when they call?”

Husk pauses for a moment, raising a brow. He glances towards the sofas on the other side of the room, where Cherri is entertaining Angel and with an animated retelling of her latest drug-fueled exploits. They pay no attention to him, and he turns his back to them, leaning back against the bar and folding his free arm over his chest.

“And where are you, doll?”

“Three guesses.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, amused. “And you’re makin’ a deal out of callin’ me from your bed, because…?”

You mimic a gameshow buzzer into his ear. “Oof. Sorry, honey. Wrong answer.”

“Huh?”

“Would you like to play again?”

“…You’re not in your bed, then?”

“Uh-uh.”

Husk can’t help the small smile still playing over his lips. He winds the cord around his claws idly. “Then you are…?”

Your answer is wonderfully simple.

“In yours.”

Husk’s ears flick upward in sudden attention at the implications that rush through his mind at those two words. He can hear you breathe a soft laugh at the cattish sound of interest he makes despite himself. He glances back over his shoulder at the others and clears his throat. “If you’re lookin’ for me to join ya, baby, I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna be stuck down here a while.”

“I know,” you say, and he can hear that your sympathy tainted with amusement. “I miss you up here.”

He hums again, eyes closing. He finishes the last of the glass he’s been nursing, the whiskey a familiar burn at the back of his throat. “Don’t do that to me, baby…”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a soft rustling sound that tells Husk you’re setting the phone against the crook of your neck. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Yeah?” Husk smiles. “How d’ya plan on doin’ that, exactly?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Husk stops reaching for a fresh bottle in the moment he hears your breath catch softly. His hand tightens on the phone. “Doll. This is a new level of cruel.”

“Is it?” you ask, voice pitched higher. The change is only slight, but it makes Husk's ears twitch upward in interest. “Want me to stop?”

Husk chuckles, low in the back of his throat. God, how he wishes the others would just fucking leave. “I want you to tell me exactly what you’re doin’ up there, all alone.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let your head fall back against the pillows with a soft moan, a smile on your lips as you hear Husk growl under his breath in response. You giggle quietly, rolling your nipple between your fingers.

“I need your hand between your legs now, baby.” he tells you roughly, and the tone in his voice sends a thrill directly down your spine. It makes you shiver, and you gasp as you pinch your nipple roughly. You've been teasing yourself like this, letting your hands roam down over your stomach to graze the top of your thighs before returning to your breasts... and every time, mapping out the journey your fingers take for your audience. His voice drops further, no doubt mindful of the others in the lobby. "I need to hear you tell me how wet you are."

"Yes, sir," you reply, smiling wider as he curses under his breath at the title. You let your hand travel back down your stomach, breath catching as you dip your fingers down between your spread thighs. You slide two fingers along your slit, hips bucking up into your hand as you graze your clit. "Oh, fuck, Husk..."

"Mmmm, baby..." Husk sighs, and you can picture his eyes closing, his head tipping back. "You wet for me?"

"Mm-hm," you nod against the phone, still toying slowly with your clit. "God, Husk, this feels good..."

"Oh, you're killin' me here, sweetness," he groans. "What I wouldn't fuckin' give for..."

"I can hold out for you, baby," you tell him. "I can keep playing... all by myself... get myself all wet and trembling and... fucking desperate for you until you can finally come and..." you moan as you slide two fingers into yourself, cradling the phone against your shoulder so you can keep playing with your clit with your other hand. "...and fuck me so deep and..."

The sound Husk lets out is a mix of a cattish growl and a groan, and you push your hips up against your palm as you fuck yourself on your fingers.

"You're already so close, aren't you, doll?" Husk asks, and you can hear the knowing amusement playing against his arousal.

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck..." he breathes, and it brings to mind the memory of his warm breath against your throat, his claws on your hips, and his teeth grazing your collarbone. "Fuck, baby, I-"

Husk's tone shifts, and you hear the muffled sound of the phone being lowered. "The fuck do you want, Cherri?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Woah, chill, kitty cat!" Cherri laughs, holding up her hands. "Just lookin' for a refill. You got something better to do?"

Husk swallows, shifting as his cock throbs almost painfully. He glowers at the cyclops, turning to face her. He stands almost flush against the bar to keep his erection from view. “You’re gonna wanna not call me that.”

Angel coos in faux-sympathy as he joins them at the bar, draping himself over Cherri’s back. “Ooh, I know that tone. What’s got ya down, Husky?”

“Y’mean aside from havin’ to put up with your drunk asses?”

Angel blows him a kiss, gives him a wink, and slides his empty glass across the bar towards the bartender. Husk, well-practised, has a bottle ready to pour just as it comes to a stop in front of him, eyes still fixed in an impatient glare on the two of them. “Y’know ya love us, baby.”

“What else ya got to do, anyway, bitch?” Cherri teases, swiping up her own refill. Husk bites back the urge to tell her to shove it, so, so aware of the weight of the phone in his hand. His whole body is burning with the knowledge that you’re on the other end of the line and he’s missing those pretty sounds you’re making for him.

“Yeah…” Angel draws out the word invitingly. “Ya could always come out and party with us, y’know. We can show ya the best places to get ya fur mussed.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Course ya will,” Cherri eye-rolls.

Angel’s eyes flicker down to the phone still pressed to Husk’s chest. “Ya got a better offer, pussy cat?”

Husk thanks fuck for his poker face. “Goodnight Angel.”

The porn star and his bestie cackle, and the former leans over the bar to smack a kiss the bartender’s cheek teasingly with an exaggerated, obnoxious ‘mwah!’. Husk swats him away irritably, and the two of them continue laughing on their way out the door.

There’s a beat before Husk jerks the phone back to his ear, and his flagging erection immediately swells again with the sounds on the other end of the phone. Finally, thankfully alone, Husk uses his free hand to unbutton his fly, pushing his hand into his pants.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let out a breathless, high-pitched sound with each pump of the toy into your soaking cunt. You’d rolled onto you knees, the phone still glued to your ear despite the silence he'd left you with and your thighs quivering as your hips jerk against the cum-slick silicone between your thighs.

You'd been so close when Husk had been taken away, and the minutes he'd left you see-sawing along the precipice of orgasm is making your mind fog and your jaw clench. Each roll of your hips sends sparks of need and pure pleasure up through your core, and while the muffled, growling voice of Husk coming through the phone was enough to make you shiver, it's edging you just as much as the toy is.

So, when you hear the phone move and Husk's sharp intake of breath, it takes everything in you, eyes screwed tight and sweat on your brow, not to cum right away.

"Oh, fuck, baby..." Husk groans as you whine in his ear, his own voice torn. "Holy fuck, you sound so pretty..."

"You left me," you whimper into the receiver, grinding down against the dildo. It fills you well, but the smooth line of it leaves you wanting. Conjuring the memory of the way the barbs of Husk's cock tease when he thrusts into you makes you clench around the toy, eyes rolling back behind their lids.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice rough and breathy in the way you know means he's touching himself too. "Have you been waitin' for me this whole time?"

"Mm-hmm..."

"Such a good girl for me."

"Fuck..." you moan, pressing your forehead into the sheets. Switching the phone to speaker, you let your hand slip down between your thighs, breath catching in a squeak as you touch your clit. "Fuck, Husk... please..."

"Gonna make it up to you, baby," he promises, voice ragged. You can picture him, hand pumping at his cock, head back and a furrow between his brows. The way his chest moves staccato as he tries to keep his breathing steady, the way he thrusts into his hand. "Gonna reward you for bein' so patient..."

"H-how?"

"You're gonna cum for me," he tells you, all whiskey and smoke and raw, honeyed desire. "You're gonna cum so hard for me that you soak those sheets. So hard that I might jus' be able to hear you moan my name all the way down here, even without the phone."

"F-fuck, Husk..."

"Jus' like that, baby. You're gonna cum for me like a good girl," he continues, his voice breaking as he gets closer to his own release. "And the minute you do I'm gonna come up those stairs, an' while you're still layin' there in your own mess, twitchin' with tears in your eyes... 'm gonna come up there and taste you."

Moaning aloud, you quicken your hand against your clit, grinding down against the dildo as best you can. You can taste blood in your mouth when you bite your lip, so overstimulated that even the feeling of the sheets rubbing against your nipples with every disjointed bounce of your body over the toy does bring tears to your eyes. You can feel them staining your cheeks, joining the drool that drips from the corner of your mouth to mark the sheet beneath you.

"Husk... sir, please..."

"I want to taste every drop of you, sweetness," Husk almost growls, breaking off with a breathless haah for a moment as he tries to keep himself under control. He won't cum until you do. "I want to bury my tongue in that gorgeous, tight little cunt of yours and feel you fucking quake..."

"HUSK, I'm..."

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, and you can just hear the sound of his hand quickening against his cock under the tenor of his voice. "You're such a good girl, baby, c'mon..."

Your body curls in on itself so tightly as you cum that it hurts, your back arching and your thighs clenching around your hands. You feel your cum squirt out around the toy, drenching the sheets and your inner thighs, pooling around your knees. You collapse onto your side, body twitching with each aftershock, breath sharp and cutting around his name as you try to come down from the high.

Husk groans your name back in your ear as he cums too, gutteral and visceral and deep and it's enough to make your cunt tighten around the dildo again, cum still leaking out of you. It almost hurts to leave it in, but any move you make makes your whole body twitch and you're still trying to focus on breathing.

Husk chuckles breathlessly, brokenly in your ear as he relaxes, exhaling a shuddering breath that makes you shiver.

"Two minutes, baby." he tells you, a soft growl playing under his words. "You've got two minutes before I do exactly what I promised."

[beenbaanbuun]

silly thoughts w/ yunho

words - 1.5k!! (are you impressed that i actually know for once?!?!?)

genre - angst/fluff

warnings - sad!yunho, anxious!yunho

——————————————————————————

you were half way through an episode of some shitty reality tv show. you’d come across it whilst trying to find something to pass the time and you’d somehow got caught up in all the fake drama happening between the people on screen. in fact, you hardly realised you were 3 episodes in until you heard the front door open and the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend. it took everything in you to pause the show mid argument, but you figured saying hello to yunho was probably more important.

“hi, yun,” you tossed the remote down and peered over the back of your sofa to watch as he kicked his sneakers off.

the first hint you got that something was off with him was the lack of reply you got. normally he was like an overly enthusiastic puppy, bounding over to you and kissing you before whispering his greetings. the next was the fact that he didn’t bother the straighten up his shoes and put them in the designated spot. he just left them there in front of the door and spun to face you with a sigh.

the third and final thing that let you know something was wrong was the frown that sat on his pretty mouth as he paced towards you slowly. you frowned back in sympathy, but he didn’t even acknowledge it. in fact, as he rounded the sofa, he didn’t seem to acknowledge you at all.

your mind was racing, wondering if you’d perhaps done something to upset him, and your mind wasn’t put to ease as he picked up the remote to turn to tv off completely. you watched with worry as he tossed it back down onto the couch, watching it bounce a few times before it fell onto the floor. he didn’t bother to pick it up, so you tried to instead.

but the moment you bent over, you felt a warm touch on your shoulder, preventing you from moving to grab the small machine. your eyes looked at his hand before traveling up his arm until you reached his face. it was still stony and the frown still replaced his usually joyful grin, but from this distance you could see more clearly. the red rings around his eyes were the first thing that really concerned you, and upon further inspection, you could see the water that had gathered along his lower lash line.

“yun,” you said quietly, your voice empathetic and sad. he simply shook his head, not wanting you say anything else.

half of you expected him to say something instead, but he just took his hand off of your shoulder and offered it to you. you took it and immediately yunho pulled you from the couch and towards the door of the living room. you followed in silence as he led you along the corridor to your bedroom.

it was dark in there, and yunho didn’t bother to turn the light on as he dragged you to the bed. he stopped just before it and gestured for you to get on. you did, sitting down on the plush mattress. again, he shook his head. this time you couldn’t quite discern what he wanted though. you furrowed your brows at him and his frown got deeper.

he crawled onto the bed himself, flopping down right in the middle.

“c’mere,” he sighed, opening his arms wide to invite you closer. it soon made sense what he wanted, and before he could even register it, you'd all but thrown yourself into his grasp. he sighed as you fell against his chest, some of his stress finally dissipating. you were pleased, but that still didn’t explain what had made him so moody.

still, you didn’t ask. if yunho wanted to tell you he would, and he’d do it when he was ready to. the two of you had figured out pretty early in your relationship that that was the best way to do things between the two of you. that way no one felt pressured to tell if they weren’t ready.

it didn’t mean you weren’t curious, though. it wasn’t often yunho was like this, so when he was it only made you worry. with the way yunho was petting your hair and pressing kisses to your head, you’d normally assume he was trying to comfort you. somehow you knew otherwise. you could tell he was focussing on his own comfort, trying to ground himself with the familiar feeling of your body close to his. the way his fingers massaged and squeezed at your flesh of your hip like it was a stress ball, or the way his fingers twisted your hair in the same pattern over and over again; it was all to soothe himself.

you let him continue, taking whatever comfort you could get from his repetitive ministrations. they slowed over time, becoming less routine and more spur of the moment. you weren’t sure how much time was passing, but eventually his hands relaxed completely and he let out his remaining tension with a sigh.

“fuck,” he muttered into the darkness of the room. it was quiet, and soft, but you could still feel the anxious edge it carried. you couldn’t help but raise your gaze to look at his face that had been illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the small gap in your curtains. again, he sighed before lowering his gaze from the ceiling, eyes meeting with yours, “you okay, honey?”

“am i okay?” the question came as a shock and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “who cares if i’m okay, yunho! are you okay?”

he scoffed.

“i care if you’re okay,” he replied, “i know i must’ve worried you, hm?”

he was avoiding the question, that much was obvious. of course, you couldn’t blame him. he was supposed to tell before you asked, so of course he’d ignore it. you still couldn’t help but let it bother you, though.

“of course i’m worried, yun,” you tried your hardest to appear calm, but the way your voice sounded was anything but, “you haven’t told me a thing, and i know i shouldn’t ask, but i want to know what’s wrong. i want to know if you’re alright!”

he shushed you, petting your hair once more to calm you down. but you were anything but calm, and yunho staying silent wasn’t helping.

“it’s silly,” he said, “something upset me and i just… i needed to know you were still here.”

it was something, you supposed, but it was also nothing at all. what were you supposed to take from that? that he was scared you wouldn’t be at home? why would he think that? did he think you were in danger? did he think you’d left him? it made no sense, and it left you with more questions than answers.

“yunho…” you sighed.

“i know,” he answered, “its not really an explanation at all, is it.”

“no.”

he chuckled at how straightforward you were being. it was endearing, in a way, seeing you so so worried about something that despite his reaction, yunho would admit was small. so small, in fact, that he felt as though it was a little embarrassing for him.

“if i tell you, will you promise not to laugh,” you nodded against his chest, “and you have to promise not to get mad, too.”

that one takes a little longer to agree to, but eventually you nod. you wanted to try your hardest to understand why he was acting so strangely, and getting mad wouldn’t help in the slightest.

“go ahead, babe.”

he took a deep breath in, releasing it, along with some of his nerves, almost immediately.

“mingi’s girlfriend left him,” he said. you furrowed your brows, “they seemed so happy together and she just left him with no explanation and he was hurt and confused and it just got me thinking about us.”

“wait! you don’t think i’d do that to you, do you?” you frowned. you didn’t like the idea that he thought so lowly of you, but you’d already agreed not to get upset. you’d let him say his piece before starting all out war over the preposterous accusation.

he sighed again.

“not at all,” he said, “it just got me thinking about what would happen if, god forbid, this didn’t work out and i guess i just… panicked.”

your mind went blank for a second. not for any reason other than the fact that it wasn’t right. yunho was the level headed one. you’d never known him to panic. yet there he lay telling you that of all things to make his anxiety spike, it was the thought of you leaving him.

“you… panicked?” you said, slowly. he nodded, “no, i mean… you panicked.”

he chuckled lowly.

“yes, honey,” he laced his fingers with your hair once again. his nails scraped gently against your scalp and you couldn’t help the contented moan that left your lips, “i panicked. my brain always goes a little haywire when it comes to you.”

that made your heart skip a beat. the knowledge that you could make him dizzy in the same way he did with you was something that you never knew you needed.

“mine does too,” you admit, a bright smile breaking through the confused frown. yunho thought you looked like an angel as you lay on his chest grinning like the cheshire cat himself.

“guess we’re both a little crazy when it comes to one another, huh?” he tilted your head up so he had access to your lips. he lay a small peck on them before pulling back with a tiny smile, “but now you’re here in my arms and you’re not leaving me and i know everything is okay, okay?”

“okay…”

“i love you,” he pecked your lips once more, and then again, and then one final time, “i love you so much.”

you chased his lips, making him chuckle and ruffle your hair. he gave in and let you give him one last kiss. it lasted a little longer than the pecks he’d previously given you, and by the time he pulled away again, you were satiated.

“i love you too.”

[cherryl4na]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ `"lamborghini miura and date nights pt. 1"

abstract || you and lando enjoy life outside of all the chaos that comes with him being 'The Ace'

fem!reader || fluff. steamy. mafia au. lamborghini miura. will be a pt. 2. heavily inspired by the suit at a mclaren event and the outfit at cannes. 3.6k words

Lando Norris’ penthouse is the epitome of luxury and power, a sanctuary high above the city’s restless heartbeat. The expansive living space is a testament to modern elegance, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the skyline, the city lights twinkling like distant stars.

When stepping out of the private elevator, you’re greeted by a foyer with polished marble floors, leading into an open-concept living area. The décor is a blend of classic and contemporary, with rich, dark wood paneling and sleek, minimalist furniture. A grand piano sits in one corner, its black lacquer finish reflecting the soft glow of the overhead designer lighting.

The lounge area is dominated by a large, plush sofa that faces a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and a glass coffee table holds an array of high-end spirits and crystal decanters. Original artworks adorn the walls, and a collection of rare books fills the built-in shelves, revealing Lando’s taste for the finer things in life.

The dining area features a long, ebony dining table surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs, perfect for hosting intimate gatherings or conducting discreet business meetings. Adjacent to it is a gourmet kitchen, fitted with professional-grade appliances and a sleek breakfast bar.

The penthouse also boasts a private gym, a spa-like bathroom with a Jacuzzi and a rain shower, and a walk-in wardrobe that houses an impressive collection of designer suits and racing memorabilia.

Lando’s personal quarters are a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The master bedroom is spacious, with a king-sized bed taking center stage, draped in the finest silk linens. A private balcony extends from the bedroom, offering a secluded spot to take in the breathtaking views or simply enjoy a moment of solitude.

Every detail in Lando’s penthouse speaks of a man who commands respect and enjoys his success, yet values privacy and comfort above all else. It’s a space that’s both a showpiece and a retreat, reflecting the complex character of ‘The Ace’ himself.

As of now, the evening had settled over the city like a velvet shroud, the skyline a jagged silhouette against the twilight sky. Inside the luxurious penthouse, Lando Norris watched you with an intensity that belied his calm exterior.

You stood before the full-length mirror, the soft fabric of your Versace dress cascading down in waves of midnight blue, a stark contrast to the elegance of your skin. The room was filled with the quiet rustle of silk and the subtle scent of vanilla from your perfume. It was a rare occasion, this dance of preparation, and Lando found himself captivated by the ritual.

He leaned casually against the mahogany door frame, arms crossed over his chest covered with a white Nordstrom silk shirt that has been left unbuttoned just slightly to exude enough sensuality but keeping it decent, his two usual gold chains around his thick, tan neck as his eyes followed your every move. There was something about the way you moved, the confidence in your gestures, that drew him in. It was a dance he had seen many perform but none with such genuine disregard for the world’s expectations.

“You don’t have to impress anyone,” Lando finally spoke, his voice a low rumble in the opulent room.

You met his gaze in the mirror, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m not trying to impress,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’m trying to remember who I am beyond all this,” you gestured vaguely, encompassing the grandeur of the room and, by extension, the life you had found yourself entwined in.

Lando pushed off from the doorframe, his steps silent on the plush carpet as he approached. “And who are you exactly, in this world?” he asked, stopping just a breath away from you.

You turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze compelling you to answer with truth. “Someone who still believes in a bit of normality, even in a world as cynical as ours.”

His chuckle was soft, a sound that warmed you more than any embrace. “Then perhaps this will serve as a reminder,” Lando said, producing a small, black velvet box from his pocket.

He opened it to reveal a delicate gold chain, from which hung a pendant crafted in the shape of a lotus, its petals open as if reaching for the last rays of the sun. “The lotus blooms in the mud,” he murmured, his fingers deft as he clasped the necklace around your neck. 

The lotus flower, revered across cultures and spiritual traditions, embodies profound symbolism and meaning. Emerging from muddy waters yet remaining unstained, it symbolizes purity of heart, mind, and spirit. Its ability to bloom immaculately amidst adversity speaks to resilience and strength, teaching us to persevere and flourish despite life's challenges.

It serves as a timeless metaphor for the human experience — a reminder that through adversity, purity, and spiritual growth, we can rise above the murky waters of life and blossom into our fullest potential.

You reached up to touch the pendant, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers still lingering on your skin. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, gratitude lacing your words. Lando stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. “As are you,” he said, not as a compliment, but as a simple statement of fact.

With a smile that matched the warmth of his words, you followed Lando out of his luxurious penthouse. The evening air greeted you with a gentle breeze as you made your way towards the private garage, where a sleek, vintage Lamborghini Miura awaited. Its navy paint gleamed under the soft glow of the penthouse's exterior lights, exuding elegance and power in equal measure.

"You're driving this?" you asked, your voice a mixture of surprise and excitement, a smile slowly inching its way on your face.

Lando nodded, a playful glint in his eyes as he held open the passenger door for you. "Well, how else did you think we’d travel? I figured we could take a little drive before our reservation. Trust me, it'll be an experience you won't forget."

As you move to settle into the plush leather seat, Lando places a hand on your head to make sure it’s protected from the roof of the car. Heading around the car, Lando enters the driver side, and effortlessly starts the engine, causing the powerful rumble to fill the air around you. The car eased out of the garage with grace, navigating the city streets with the familiarity of a seasoned driver. The night enveloped you both, the city lights painting a canvas of twinkling stars overhead.

With each turn and straight away, the Lamborghini carried you through the cityscape, the wind whispering secrets as it tousled your hair. In the midst of this exhilarating journey, Lando's presence beside you remained a constant source of comfort and excitement, his occasional glance your way a silent promise of more adventures to come.

As you ventured further into the night, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the hum of the engine and the shared moments between you and Lando. In the soft glow of passing street lamps, you realized that this impromptu drive wasn't just about the destination—it was about the connection forged in the quiet moments between heartbeats, where each glance and smile spoke volumes about the budding romance in the air.

And as the Lamborghini carried you both towards an unknown horizon, you couldn't help but feel that this night was just the beginning of a journey filled with endless possibilities, where every twist of fate was waiting to be explored together.

With each mile that passed beneath the Lamborghini's wheels, the cityscape transformed into a mesmerizing blur of lights and shadows. Lando navigated the streets with effortless precision, occasionally stealing glances at you, his expression a mix of anticipation and contentment.

As the vibrant pulse of the city gradually gave way to quieter, tree-lined avenues, the Lamborghini slowed to a stop in front of a stately building adorned with ivy-covered walls and softly glowing lanterns. You looked up, realizing you had arrived at a charming and exclusive restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate ambiance.

Lando turned off the engine, and the sudden silence enveloped you like a comforting embrace. He stepped out of the car, swiftly coming around to open your door with a gentlemanly flourish. As you emerged, the cool evening air wrapped around you, carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of fine dining and the promise of a memorable evening ahead.

The entrance of the restaurant welcomed you with a warm glow from within, casting a soft halo around Lando as he extended his hand, inviting you to walk with him towards the door. You accepted graciously, feeling a flutter of excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. This evening had already surpassed any expectations you might have had, and yet, you couldn't help but wonder what surprises lay in store.

Inside, the ambiance was elegant yet inviting, with soft music playing in the background and flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over linen-covered tables. The maître d' greeted you warmly, confirming your reservation and guiding you both to a secluded corner table with a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

As you settled into your seats, Lando's gaze met yours across the table, his eyes sparkling with a quiet intensity that mirrored your own emotions. The evening stretched out before you like an uncharted path, each moment unfolding with a delicate grace that seemed to deepen the connection between you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of exquisitely prepared dishes and sips of fine wine, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that spoke volumes. In the intimate setting of the restaurant, surrounded by the soft murmur of other diners and the gentle hum of city life beyond the windows, it felt as though time had slowed to a perfect cadence, allowing you both to savor every fleeting second together.

And as the night progressed, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, attraction, and a growing sense of intimacy that seemed to bloom with each passing moment. Across the table, Lando's smile was a beacon of warmth, his presence a reassuring anchor in the sea of possibility that stretched out before you.

As dessert arrived, accompanied by a flourish of culinary artistry that mirrored the magic of the evening itself, you couldn't help but marvel at how a spontaneous drive in a Lamborghini had led to this moment of shared connection and undeniable chemistry between you and Lando.

The restaurant hummed with a subtle buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses, yet your attention was solely on the man sitting across from you. Lando, with his easy charm and magnetic presence, had swept you off your feet from the moment you met. His laughter was infectious, his stories captivating, and as the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn deeper into his orbit.

The evening had been filled with unexpected turns—a scenic drive through desert landscapes that stretched endlessly under a starlit sky, conversations that ranged from lighthearted banter to deeper musings about life and dreams. Each moment seemed to unfold effortlessly, as if fate had orchestrated this encounter.

And now, as dessert was served—a masterpiece of flavors and presentation—you felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of nervous excitement. Lando caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and admiration. Without a word, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours with a gentle yet confident touch.

"Care to dance?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a magnetic charm that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't resist the invitation, nor did you want to. With a smile that matched his own, you nodded, allowing him to lead you onto the small, cleared space between tables where other diners watched with subtle curiosity.

As "Hola Senorita" by GIMS and Maluma began to play softly in the background, Lando pulled you close, his hand firm on your waist as he guided you in a slow, sensual sway to the seductive rhythm of the music. The heat of his body pressed against yours, sending a wave of electricity through every nerve ending.

In that intimate embrace, the world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you moving together in perfect synchronization. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his gaze never leaving yours as if trying to convey a thousand unspoken words.

The sensual dance unfolded like a whispered promise of what could be—an unspoken acknowledgment of the undeniable chemistry that simmered beneath the surface. Each step, each turn spoke volumes of desire and connection, drawing you closer to Lando in ways words could never capture.

As the song neared its end, you found yourself breathless yet exhilarated, caught up in the intensity of the moment shared between you. Lando's lips curved into a tender smile as he guided you back to the table, where dessert awaited—a sweet ending to a night that had begun with a drive and culminated in a dance that resonated with the magic of newfound connection and possibility.

And deep down, beneath the surface of whispered promises and shared glances, you knew that this evening was only the beginning—a prelude to a story waiting to unfold, where each chapter would be written in the tender moments and stolen kisses that danced on the edge of tomorrow.

After settling the bill, not without a bit of banter over who pays, you both stepped out into the cool night air, the echoes of laughter and shared stories still resonating between you. The Lamborghini awaited, a sleek silhouette against the dimly lit street, its engine purring with restrained power.

"Where to now?" you asked, half in jest, half in earnest curiosity.

Lando grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, "Anywhere but here."

With that, you slipped into the passenger seat with his help of course, the leather embracing you with its luxurious warmth. The engine roared to life, the city lights streaking past in a blur as you navigated the winding roads together. The night was young, and so were you, in this ephemeral moment where time seemed to slow down just for the two of you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through dreams and aspirations, fears and triumphs, each revelation knitting your souls closer together. It was as if the universe conspired to create this perfect interlude, where nothing existed beyond the confines of the Lamborghini and the burgeoning connection between you.

As the city lights began to fade into the rearview mirror, you found yourselves on a quieter stretch of road, surrounded by a tapestry of stars overhead. The car slowed to a stop, and you both stepped out onto an overlook, the city sprawling below like a sea of twinkling lights.

Lando's eyes held yours, their intensity magnified by the intimacy of the moment. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoing the rhythm of your own. The night draped around you like a velvet cloak, cocooning you in a world where only the two of you existed.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they had always belonged together. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of anticipation through you, a silent invitation to let go of any lingering doubts or hesitations.

Leaning closer, his breath mingled with yours, warm against your lips. The air crackled with unspoken words, each heartbeat resonating like a whispered promise of what could be. You could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, a comforting familiarity that grounded you in the present moment.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was like a symphony of emotions unfolding in slow motion. Soft yet insistent, his kiss spoke of desire tempered with tenderness, a delicate balance of passion and restraint. Time seemed to stretch and bend around you, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips moving against yours, tracing the contours of a connection that defied words.

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The warmth of his embrace cocooned you in a sanctuary of shared vulnerability, where every touch and caress spoke volumes of unspoken longing and mutual understanding.

Under the canopy of stars, the Lamborghini Miura stood sentinel, bearing witness to a moment that transcended the mundane. The engine's purr became a backdrop to the symphony of your shared breaths, the quiet rustle of fabric as you leaned into each other, seeking solace and passion in equal measure.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into insignificance. There was only the taste of him on your lips, the press of his body against yours, and the electric current that surged between you, binding your souls in a dance as ancient as time itself.

In that timeless embrace, you felt a surge of emotion swell within you—love in its purest form, unguarded and unfiltered. It was a declaration whispered in the language of touch and sensation, a silent vow that this connection was worth cherishing, nurturing, and exploring with every fiber of your being.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and exhilarated, Lando's eyes held a glimmer of unspoken promises yet to be fulfilled. His thumb gently brushed against your cheek, a tender gesture that spoke of reverence and devotion.

In the quiet aftermath, as you stood entwined under the stars, you knew that this night had forever altered the course of your story together. Each heartbeat echoed the cadence of a new beginning, where the chapters ahead would be written in the shared moments of vulnerability, passion, and the unwavering bond forged in the embrace of that unforgettable night.

Feeling the cool metal of the Lamborghini Miura against your back, you smiled as Lando drew you close, his touch tender yet commanding. His fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, sending a thrill through you that echoed in the warm summer night around you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, a perfect blend of longing and urgency. You leaned into him, feeling the strength of his embrace against the smooth, cool surface of the car's hood beneath you. The night seemed to hold its breath as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the mingling of your breaths creating an intimate symphony.

His hands, strong yet gentle, explored your back with a reverence that made your heart race before finally reaching their destination. He grips the back of your plush thighs in a way that makes you feel weak all over. The hood of the car digs into you as he places you gently on it, moving to stand between your legs. 

Making this moment as intimate as possible, his veiny hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer till there is absolutely no space between the two of you. Every touch, every caress deepened the connection between you, amplifying the heat that coursed through your veins. Time seemed to stand still as you savored each moment, each kiss a testament to the unspoken desire and passion that burned between you.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft night air and the distant murmur of the city, you were entwined in a dance of intimacy and yearning, where nothing else existed except the electricity of his soft lips against your own, his touch caressing you as if you’re made of glass.

As you both pull away from each other, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the promise of what the future might hold, Lando reaches out to gently stroke your cheek. His touch is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cool night air. 

"Let's head back," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, lips plumped up and red. You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of contentment settling over you like a soft blanket. Together, you gather yourselves and step back towards the waiting Lamborghini Miura.

The drive back to Lando's penthouse is quiet, the purr of the engine providing a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts. You steal glances at each other from time to time, exchanging small smiles that speak volumes about the bond you've forged this evening.

Arriving at the penthouse, Lando parks the car with practiced ease. He takes your hand as you both exit the vehicle, his touch reassuring and grounding. The night feels alive with possibilities as you step into the elevator, riding it up to his luxurious apartment high above the city.

Inside, the penthouse is a sanctuary of modern elegance and comfort. Lando leads you to a balcony overlooking the glittering skyline, where the city lights twinkle like stars in the night sky. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close as you lean against the railing together.

"This night," he begins softly, his voice carrying a hint of wonder, "it feels like everything has changed, but at the same time, hasn’t."

You turn in his arms to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. "It has," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "In the best possible way."

Lando smiles, a smile that reaches his eyes and fills you with warmth. "I'm glad," he says, leaning in to kiss you gently for the third time that night, as if sealing a promise made by the night itself.

And as you stand there, in each other's arms, the Lamborghini Miura waits below like a silent witness to the beginning of your love story — a story that started with a car, a journey, and two hearts finding their way to each other.

an || hey guys! i've had this in the works since early june and finally got around to semi finishing it. this will have a pt 2 and i apologize if it takes a while to come out. hope you enjoyed this and there will be more to come! and to my girls, you know who you are, i hope you loved this.

©2024 cherryl4na. - please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.