#the kitchen counter is barely the right size

[jinjooha69]

TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

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Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Overstimulation , Corruption kink, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Degrading talk, Jealousy sex, First time sex, Size kink, Fingering, Grinding, Dry humping , Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Biting / Marking, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on, Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

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Chapter 4

You didn’t see him for thirteen days.

Not that you were counting.

You just… noticed. Every day your dad came home alone. Every time you heard the front door, your heart skipped—then dropped. And every time it wasn't him, you told yourself you didn’t care.

Until the night he did show up again. Like nothing happened.

“Brought something strong,” Toji said, stepping into the house, two bottles in hand and that lazy, cocky grin sitting just right on his face.

Your stomach flipped.

He looked the same—black compression tee hugging his chest, grey sweats low on his hips. Hair damp from the rain. That vein on his forearm visible again, because of course it was.

Your dad was too thrilled to see him again to notice how your breath caught or how fast you turned away.

They drank. Laughed. You kept your distance. Tried to avoid his gaze—except when you caught it on accident. And every time you looked, he was already watching.

Your dad passed out by midnight. Again. Toji helped him to the bed like a routine.

“You still up?” he asked you later, voice rough from the whiskey.

You nodded.

“Come here. Lemme help you clean up.”

The kitchen was warm. Quiet. The rain outside had turned soft, barely a whisper on the windows.

You stood near the sink, stacking a few plates when you felt him behind you. Close. Too close.

He didn’t speak.

He just reached over you—arms brushing yours, chest pressed lightly to your back—and grabbed a glass from above your head. The move was unnecessary. He lingered.

“Missed me?”

You flinched at the whisper near your ear. His breath was hot. Heavy.

“I-I didn’t think you’d come back…”

“I had to,” he murmured, lips almost touching the shell of your ear now. “Didn’t get to finish what I started.”

Your hands froze on the sponge. Your breath hitched.

“D-Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he said, voice dipping low, smug. “You’re not gonna stop me.”

One hand slid up from your waist. Fingers tracing your side. Grazing the edge of your chest.

You stiffened.

“Still shy, huh?” His voice was rougher now. Darker.

He cupped your breast over the thin fabric of your shirt—soft at first, like he was just resting his hand there. You gasped, gripping the counter.

His palm molded to the shape of it. Thumb brushing back and forth over your nipple until it hardened under his touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, smirking behind you. “You always this sensitive, baby?”

You whimpered, trying to pull away—but his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you still.

“I barely touched you,” he whispered. “And you’re already shaking.”

He rolled the nipple between his fingers, slow and careful. The movement made your knees weak.

“P-Please don’t… this is w-wrong—”

“But it feels good,” he said. “Doesn’t it?”

Your chest rose and fell fast. You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He pinched gently. You gasped.

“Say it.”

You bit your lip. “I… I don’t know.”

“Sure you do,” he said, dragging the hem of your tank top higher. “You wore no bra again. You knew what you were doing.”

“I—I didn’t…”

“You did,” he said, voice like smoke. “And now I’m gonna show you what happens when you beg for attention without even knowing it.”

He pulled your shirt up over your chest, letting your breasts spill free.

Then he grabbed one—fingers splayed wide, squeezing, massaging—while his mouth found the other.

Hot. Wet. Tongue swirling over the hard peak, then sucking gently until your moans spilled out too loud, too raw.

Your hands gripped the counter like a lifeline.

“Such pretty tits,” he groaned against your skin. “Wasted on those dumbass boys your age. Bet none of them sucked you like this.”

His mouth latched again—harder this time. Tongue flicking, teeth grazing, your nipple slipping wet from his mouth as he moved to the other, giving it the same filthy attention.

You were trembling.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “Let me be the first to really show you what you’re worth.”

You didn’t say no. Couldn’t.

Not when his hands were on you like that. Not when your body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

And not when he pulled away, just enough to lock eyes with you and say—

“This is just the beginning, baby girl.”

Toji’s mouth didn’t stop—hot, greedy, worshipping the curves he clearly hadn’t been able to get out of his head for two long weeks. Your chest arched into him instinctively, unsure of what you were chasing—more pressure? More warmth? More of his voice in your ear telling you filthy things you didn’t know you needed to hear?

His hands slid beneath your lifted top, rough fingers palming your breasts fully now, thumbs brushing under and over, teasing the soft underside. The way he kneaded your tits made you dizzy—like he wasn’t just playing with them, he was memorizing them.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered against your skin, pressing a wet kiss right above your nipple. “These things could ruin a man.”

You squeaked something back—some tiny sound of protest or embarrassment—but he didn’t stop. He only moved lower, tongue dragging slow and thick over the curve of your breast before sucking the tender flesh into his mouth, leaving a deep bruise where no one could see. His teeth scraped lightly, sending a jolt straight between your thighs.

You gasped, twisting slightly. “T-Toji—ah—w-we shouldn’t—”

“You want me to stop?” he asked, eyes lifting to meet yours, voice husky but sharp.

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Again.

Because at that exact moment, his knee slipped between your thighs and nudged them apart. He grinned as he caught the way your breath hitched, the way your hips shifted instinctively, needing friction you didn’t fully understand.

“Didn’t think so.”

You whimpered as he pressed forward, chest to your back, hips flush to your ass. The thick outline of his cock strained hard against his sweats—and you could feel it, feel every inch of it grinding against the thin cotton of your shorts as he rolled his hips slow, deliberate.

“See what you do to me?” he growled softly. “You walk around in these tight little things… no bra, no clue… drivin’ me fuckin’ insane.”

His hand reached around again, lifting your breast high, thumb stroking across the nipple while he thrust his hips forward again, harder this time. You gasped as the thick pressure of him rubbed right against your clothed cunt.

“That feel good, baby?” he whispered, rocking again. “Huh? You like me fuckin’ you through your shorts like a needy little thing?”

You whimpered, leaning forward on the counter, your cheek pressed to the cool granite.

He rutted against you with slow, grinding rolls—thick and steady. His free hand held your waist in place, his fingers digging in possessively.

“You’re so soft,” he grunted. “So warm. Bet you’d suck me in so easy…”

You let out a broken sound—something between a cry and a moan—and he chuckled darkly against your neck.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Let go. Don’t think. Just feel.”

He pinched your nipple again—harder—and you yelped, your hips jerking back against him involuntarily.

“You like that? Huh? Like me using you like this?” His breath was hot on your neck, teeth brushing lightly at your skin. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me.”

He thrust harder. A dry, filthy grind that sent sharp pleasure all through your core.

“Fuck, I could finish just like this,” he growled, thrusting again, his cock dragging slow and heavy against your pussy. “Just like this—rubbing against this soaked little cunt.”

Your legs trembled.

“T-Toji, I-I’m gonna— I think I—” you sobbed, voice barely a whisper.

“I know you are,” he muttered. “Come for me, baby. Right on my cock. Let that sweet little body thank me.”

One last thrust—one more rough pull of your nipple between his fingers—and your body tensed, then shattered.

The orgasm hit fast. Fierce. Raw. You shook, moaned, pressed your face to your arms to muffle the sounds, but it was too late. You were already gone.

Toji groaned deep behind you, hips slowing.

“Shit,” he whispered. “That’s my girl.”

He pulled away gently, his hands smoothing down your sides, placing your shirt back over your trembling chest.

Then, he leaned in and kissed your shoulder.

“I’ll let you rest tonight,” he said. “But don’t think this is over.”

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

It was late—too late for you to still be awake—but the weight of what happened in the kitchen had tangled itself into your chest, tight and pulsing. You couldn’t sleep. So you wandered barefoot into the laundry room, trying to keep your hands busy. Folding your dad’s shirts. Stacking towels. Pretending you weren’t shaking every time your mind flashed back to the feeling of Toji’s hands on you, his breath on your neck, the hard press of him between your thighs.

The dryer hummed low, heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. You barely heard the door open behind you.

But you felt it.

That presence. The subtle change in the air. And then—his voice, low and quiet.

"You always this helpful around the house, sweetheart?"

You froze, a shirt half-folded in your hands. “I—I was just—couldn’t sleep…”

Toji stepped in fully, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You turned, heartbeat in your throat.

He looked unfairly good in the dim glow of the hallway light seeping through the cracked door. Hair a little messy. Grey sweats hanging low on his hips. And that same look from earlier—dark, hungry, knowing.

“I was hoping you’d still be awake,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Didn’t really get to say goodnight properly.”

Your breath hitched. “Toji, w-we shouldn’t…”

He came up behind you again, crowding your space like it was nothing. His body didn’t touch yours—yet—but the warmth of him pressed into your back like a brand. His hand reached past you, slow and casual, to pick up a towel from the counter.

"You kept me up, y’know," he muttered as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "Couldn’t stop thinking about that pretty little whimper you made when you came."

Your cheeks burned. Your fingers tightened on the towel.

“I’m still fuckin’ hard, baby. Walked around all night like this— aching, throbbing—because I didn’t wanna scare you.” His free hand finally touched—lightly grazing the slope of your spine, down to the curve of your ass. Not grabbing, not yet. Just tracing. Teasing.

"You wanna be good for me again?" he whispered. "Let me take care of myself? I won’t even ask for much."

You swallowed hard. Your heart pounded so loud you swore he could hear it.

He stepped around, facing you now—crowding you gently into the corner between the washer and the shelves. His eyes dropped to your lips, then to your chest, where your nipples had peaked again under the thin cotton of your sleep shirt.

“I just need your mouth, baby,” he murmured. “That pretty, innocent mouth. Think you can give me that?”

You hesitated—eyes wide, throat dry—but you didn’t pull away.

And that was enough for him.

Toji’s hands were on your waist, guiding you slowly, steadily to your knees on the warm tile floor. His cock was already thick and straining against his sweats, a dark, swollen imprint that made your eyes widen.

He pushed the waistband down just enough, his heavy length falling free—hard, flushed, veined. He hissed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He tipped your chin up with two fingers.

“Open that sweet mouth for me.” you did just that.

“That’s it,” he whispered, hand curling in your hair. “Look at you. Mouth already open for me.”

His thumb traced your bottom lip. “Suck it, baby. Real slow. Let me feel that warm little mouth.”

You blinked, lips parting nervously. He guided the tip in—just the head—groaning low as the warmth of your mouth closed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled. “So soft. Goddamn.”

He didn’t thrust. Not at first. He let you get used to it—his hand gently guiding your head, his cock slowly gliding over your tongue.

“Good girl,” he growled. “Just like that. Nice and sloppy. Let me fuckin’ use your mouth a little.”

You moaned around him, and he twitched in your throat.

His grip tightened.

He started moving—slow thrusts at first, his hips rolling, dragging his cock along your tongue with more urgency. His breathing grew heavier, his voice dropping into a whisper of growls and curses.

“Goddamn. Fuckin’ perfect mouth… can’t believe your daddy trusted me to be alone with you.”

You whimpered—half shame, half heat—and he growled again.

“I should feel bad, y’know,” he murmured. “Should feel guilty. But fuck… your lips were made for this.”

His thrusts grew shallow, his hips jerking faster now. You could barely breathe, your jaw aching, drool dripping down your chin.

“Shit—fuck—baby, I’m gonna—”

He growled deep, tugged your hair hard—and with a long groan, he spilled down your throat, thick and hot, his cock pulsing against your tongue.

You coughed, lips slick and messy, but didn’t pull away.

When he finally exhaled, he let go, brushing your cheek with his knuckles.

“Next time,” he said hoarsely, tucking himself back in, “we’ll see how good you feel around my cock instead.”

Then he bent down, kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a bit and he left.

You stayed on the floor a little longer, dazed, your head spinning.

To be continued....

next chapter

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[thesquidkid]

Matt Murdock's apartment in Lego

Timelapse under the read more

6 hours 15 minutes spread over a few weeks

mecabricks link to the model here

[satrs]

Hands Off! Or Not?

SYNOPSIS. The forbiddenness of it all so tempting, and restraint a thing of the past. To which depraved and perverse lengths are they going for you truly?

FEAT. XAVIER. ZAYNE. RAFAYEL. SYLUS. CALEB. xfem!reader

TAGS. MDNI! NSFW/DARK CONTENT! DUB-CON! sexual intercourse. unprotected intercourse. extremely pervy guys/acts. perverse actions. making out. jacking off to you without ur knowledge. blowjob and slight roleplay in zayne's. throatfuckin. SOMNOPHILIA in Sylus. watching u shower in rafayel's. shower sex. rafayel and caleb are kinda manipulative. dIrty talk. praise. size kink. oral, panty stealing and cunn!lingus(?)in calebs. Caleb cumin on ya panties lol(nasty ho). They r js nasty and pathetic, man. PANTY SNATCHER CALEB!!!

✎ A/N; Felt cute might delete later Hihi^^ Idk what's gotten into me but M' LOVIN' IT WUHUUU! Hope y'all are doin well and enjoy! xoxo

XAVIER ♡ Snatched!

Xavier, your reliable, caring neighbor.

You just entrusted him with your keys, begging him to tend to your plants while you're out for work since he's off for the week. And he gladly agrees.

But strangely, every time you come home, your plants look more withered than the day before. When you check on them, they're not even watered.

When you confront him about it, he just mentions how he waters them early in the morning so they dry by the evening. And with his slick words, you believe him.

Then, some of your things start appearing in the strangest places. Your lip gloss on the kitchen counter, a scarf on your bed, even panties you don’t remember wearing showing up in your dirty laundry. Weird.

You brush it off, blaming yourself for your forgetful nature, going about your morning routine before heading into another exhausting day of work. Just one more day, and then you won’t have to bother poor, busy Xavier with these tasks anymore.

Xavier, your reliable, sweet, and caring neighbor, moves on instinct as he checks the time, quick to hurry to your apartment door, unlocking it with ease.

Since the day you gave him your keys, it’s been the same routine.

He slips into your apartment after you leave, scanning over your belongings—your scarf, your lip gloss, even the forbidden rose toy you think is hidden in your drawer next to the bed. Anything that carries your essence is an item he’ll examine.

His first mistake.

And once he musters the courage to go into your panty drawer, he’s doomed before he even realizes it. Snatching a pristine pair of white lace panties, he lays back on your bed, taking a deep inhale of the sheets still coated in your scent before his hand travels down to free his aching cock.

His second mistake.

Lustful eyes scan the lace in his other hand as he wraps the flimsy material around his girthy length, his grip tightening as he strokes himself, imagining it to be your tight pussy instead, his head falling back against your headboard.

If this is wrong, dirty, even perverse—then why does it feel so damn good?

He could drown in your scent, stay in your bed like this forever, take panty after panty, repeating the same process over and over again.

He continues, lost in his pleasure, not even noticing the front door opening, the approaching footsteps, or the door creaking until—

"Xavier?"

His eyes snap open, panic surging through him. Before he can explain himself, his mouth falls shut, embarrassment creeping up his face.

"M’ just—"

"Just casually jerking off with my panties, right." You stand before him, arms crossed, a raised eyebrow aimed at his vulnerable form. But your gaze drops, lingering on his cock, still hard, still wrapped in your lace. And fuck, does it look good like that.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "You know what? You're lucky. I could use a little stress relief."

He watches in utter disbelief as you strip off your top, bright eyes soaking in your bare breasts, your perked nipples. His breath hitches when you step closer, knee dipping onto the mattress beside his hip, lustful gaze locking onto his.

"Wanna have the real deal?" You lower yourself onto his lap, heat pressing against his still-throbbing cock. "Then take it, you perv."

You don’t have to tell him twice.

His hands fly to your hips, pulling you down, a shuddering groan ripping from his throat as your soaked cunt draaags over him so deliciously.

His fingers dig into your flesh, thumbs brushing reverently over your waist, your thighs, committing the feel of you to memory.

His third mistake — nah, this is a blessing.

"Fuck," he exhales, voice raw. "Yer' for real?"

You roll your hips, smirking when he hisses. "What do you think?" Your fingers trail up his chest, tracing trembling muscles. " You could still leave. You can help yourself, can you?"

Xavier swallows thickly, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. "N-no, wanna' stay," he murmurs, voice husky. "Wanted this forever— been waitin' for so long."

You hum, dragging your fingers along his jaw before gripping his chin. "Then show me."

"Heh, I'll show you, alright."

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, down your sternum. His tongue flicks over your nipple, making you arch into him, gasping as he sucks it into his mouth, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your flesh, caressing your tender skin. He pulls back just enough to watch as he drags your soaked panties down your legs, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes darken as he spreads your legs, settling between them with a predatory gleam.

"So fucking pretty," he breathes, running his fingers through your slick folds before pressing a teasing kiss to your cheek. "Ohh, wanna feel ya'— pleaseee, lemme' get nice and comfy in yer' warm pussy, angel."

A shiver runs through you at his possessive tone, your body burning with anticipation, sending an electric shock right to your aching clit. "Then stop teasing and take what’s yours, Xavier."

He groans at your words, positioning himself at your entrance before sloooowly pushing in, the stretch making you moan as he fills you inch by inch. His head falls against your shoulder, panting against your skin as he finally bottoms out.

"Warm, s-so warm," he grits out, hands gripping your hips as he pulls back before thrusting in again, setting a deep, slow pace that has you whimpering beneath him. "Wanna stay like this—inside ya'—fuckkk."

Your nails dig into his back, urging him to go faster. And he does, movements rough, desperate, as his cock spreads you open, massaging your g-spot with his viciously, throbbing tip.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and curses filling the room, Xavier presses his forehead against yours, lips ghosting over your mouth, the incredible stretch causing your tongue to loll out weakly and he happily laps up your saliva, sucking on your wet muscle.

"Give it ta' me—fuckkk, all of it," he coaxes, thumb circling your clit in tight, deliberate motions, "Make a mess on me, c’mon, ya can't shy out now."

“G-gonna give it to me, yeah? Promise?” His voice is strangled, thick with lust as his thrusts grow frantic, erratic. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising, as he chases his high, grinding deep with every desperate snap of his hips.

You nod frantically, heat coiling in your stomach until it snaps, pleasure crashing over you. Your body tightens around him, and Xavier lets out a strangled groan as he follows, spilling his thick cum inside you, coating your walls in slick white as he buries his face in your neck, panting heavily.

For a moment, you both stay like that, tangled in each other, bodies slick with sweat until he pulls back just enough to look at you, a lazy smirk curling his lips.

"Oops. Forgot to water your plants today."

You huff out a laugh, pulling him down for another kiss, robbing a hiss from him as you slightly shift, cock springing to life inside you.

"Figured."

ZAYNE ♡ Doctor's Orders.

Zayne hates how much of a pervert he is.

He tells himself he should stop, that he should have some damn self-control, act like the composed professional he's supposed to be. But it’s just too tempting—especially when he catches those inviting glimpses of you during medical check-ups.

Like when he presses the stethoscope to your chest, fingers accidentally brushing over your soft skin as he pulls away. Or when you bend over, reaching for your toes for some 'spine check' he made up while he can’t help but admire the perfect curve of your ass.

He really can't help it.

It’s bad enough in his clinic, but it's so much worse when he does house calls.

You sit there so obediently, following every command, trusting him so completely. And it doesn’t help that you're dressed in ridiculously tight pajamas, your breasts practically spilling from the neckline, your thighs fully exposed, leaving little to the imagination.

Fuck. He could wreck you right here on this damned couch if he weren’t supposed to be acting professional.

"Alright, now open your mouth wide. I need to check your throat."

Lie.

You comply, lips parting in a teasing "ahhh," making a show of it just to get a rise out of him. And oh, does it work.

His grip tightens around the tongue depressor as he guides it to your tongue, watching you, trying so hard not to let his gaze meet yours because if he does—he’s done for.

But then his hand trembles, just enough to push the depressor a little deeper.

You gag. Loudly.

His cock twitches violently, and he swears he can feel a bead of pre-cum leaking into his briefs right then and there.

"M’ sorry," he mutters hastily, barely able to form words. "Feeling a bit off today. Been a long one. Can I use your restroom?"

"Of course! Are you alri—"

Before you can even finish your sentence, he's gone, practically sprinting to the bathroom.

The second the door is almost shut, he’s already fumbling with his belt, shoving his pants down and gripping his hefty cock, hissing as he wraps his fingers around the thick, aching length.

God, he’s horrible. Pathetically horrible.

He’s jacked off to the thought of you more times than he can count, but never in your home. Never with you just outside the door.

And the worst part?

He wants to get caught.

It's evident— his groans slip past his lips a little too loudly, the wet sounds of his strokes just barely muffled by the rush of running water. And he doesn’t even try to lock the door, leaving it cracked just enough—a silent invitation, a trap.

His hand moves faster, his mind spiraling into filthy thoughts, how much better would it sound if you were gagging around him instead of that damned wooden stick? If you looked up at him, lips stretched wide, cheeks hollowed, eyes teary?

"Fuck—"

His breath hitches, his body tensing—he’s about to—

"Z-Zayne? What the—!"

His eyes snap open, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose as he whips around.

And there you are. Standing in the doorway, lips parted, gaze locked onto his hand wrapped around his cock, glistening with pre-cum.

For a split second, shame claws at him, heat burning up his neck—until he sees a smirk creeping onto your lips.

"M’ sorry," he breathes, voice rough, unrepentant, "but you’re a vixen of a patient, you know that? Teasing me with your tight little outfit. You planned this, didn’t you?"

You tilt your head, playing innocent, though your eyes gleam with mischief. "Doctor... I think you’re just imagining things."

His grip on the sink tightens when you step closer, sinking to your knees before him, your breath ghosting over his swollen tip. And you giggle, giggle as you watch pre spurt out of his slit as your hand creeps up his thigh, doe-eyes locking with his.

You grasp him, a teasing flick of your tongue sending a sharp jolt through his entire body.

"Unbelievable," he huffs, fingers instantly tangling in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. "I’m not imagining things, trust me."

And then, with a firm push, he guides your mouth onto him, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as your lips wrap around his cock.

"Let's finish yer' check-up. Open wiiiiide— ya' know the drill. " His smirk deepens, hips rolling forward, forcing you to take him to your throat, the delicious gag you let out makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

His hips snap forward in a slow, deliberate thrust, dragging a needy whimper from your throat as he sinks deeper, stretching your lips around him further. His breathing is uneven now, heavy with restraint, but his control is crumbling, and you can feel it in the way his fingers flex against your scalp, the way he hurries to throw his fogged glasses of, his muscles coil under your touch.

His thrusts grow sharper, more demanding, and you take it, every inch of it, his cock sliding deep into your throat, eyes tearing.

The filthy, wet sounds of your mouth working him fill the small bathroom, along with his ragged breathing, the curses slipping past his lips as his body trembles beneath your touch.

You drag your nails up his thighs, feeling the way his muscles tense, how he shudders when you hum around him, sending vibrations straight through him. He groans your name, voice rough with need, his head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils tight in his gut.

And then you dare to contract that tight throat of yours, squeezing his mushroomy, rosey tip so tight, he's starting to feel dizzy now.

"Fuck, sweetheart—" His voice breaks, a low growl vibrating in his chest as his thrusts falter, his entire body seizing under your touch. His grip tightens, almost bruising, but you welcome it, relishing the way he shudders, how his knees slightly buckle.

With a final, deep thrust, he spills into your mouth, a sharp curse falling from his lips as he rides out his release with weak bucks, his fingers still tangled in your hair. His chest rises and falls in harsh, uneven breaths, his body trembling as the last waves of pleasure crash over him.

His heavy breath fills the tight space, fingers now sliding through his disheveled hair as his cloudy gaze falls to your messed up face in awe, hair tangled from his firm grip, tearing eyes examining him as you happily swallow his hot semen, cum slicked lips stretching into a big smile right after.

Your knees dig into the floor as you tilt your head to lap up a droplet of semen trapped to his tip in delight.

"So," he catches his breath before reaching for his glasses with shaky fingers, swiftly putting them on,

"Same time next week?"

RAFAYEL ♡ Steambound

Rafayel is nothing if not considerate, letting you shower at his place while your apartment complex deals with yet another plumbing disaster.

You appreciate it, really. His shower is just as extravagant as the rest of his house—sleek, modern tiles stretching from floor to ceiling, the entire bathroom almost as big as your whole damn apartment.

Steam curls into the air, thick and heavy, wrapping the room in a heated mist. Water cascades down your tired body, and you close your eyes, exhaling softly, relishing in the warmth as it soothes your muscles.

But you don’t notice the faint crack in the door, nor the tall figure standing just beyond it, or predatory eyes locked onto your naked form through the glass, tracing the curve of your back to the soft swell of your ass.

Who could blame him?

He noticed you didn’t lock the door, and as he listened to the rhythmic patter of water, felt the humid air creeping into the hallway, he told himself to just take a quick peek, just to make sure you don’t need anything. A towel, maybe. Then he’d be on his way.

Why is he even lying to himself?

He always does this—always tries to craft reasonable excuses for his own depravity.

This isn’t the first time you’ve showered at his place, and it sure as hell isn’t the first time he’s watched you.

He’s perfected the art of lingering just out of sight, watching through a barely open door, catching glimpses of your reflection in the mirror as you undress in the guest room he swears he never uses.

Or when you step out of the shower, towel wrapped snugly around your glistening body, droplets still clinging to your skin, he’s there, lurking, memorizing every inch of you, maybe even letting his hand drift lower, palming himself through his pants as he drinks in the sight, knowing that just watching won’t be enough.

So, when he's feeling extra risky, he'll sneak a peak into the shower, like right now, unbuttoned pants hanging low as he slowly strokes his aching cock to you soaping your body with his body wash, in his shower, your hands gliding along your delicate skin and he wishes, prays he could touch you like that.

You mindlessly pour the shampoo into your hair, turning just right for him to catch a glimpse of your exposed front, tits on full display. Your eyes are cautionary closed, careful not to get any of the product in your eyes.

And he's taking full advantage of that.

His head rests against the doorframe, low-hanging eyes and mouth agape as he tries to sneak a peak at your cunt, but he's just too far away.

What a shame.

Desperate to catch a glipse, he lets out a frustrated huff, maybe a little too loud, causing you to halt in your tracks, turning your head with cautiong, eyes closed covered with remnants of bubbles.

"Rafayel? Is that you?"

Your voice cuts through the thick steam, startled and unsure, and it makes his stomach clench, as his hand tightens desperately onto his bulky tip and his breath stutters. His name so sweet on your tongue—he shouldn't react like this, but he can't help but stroke his heavy cock firm in his palm, faster, stronger.

A shiver runs down his spine, his grip tightening around himself again, a quiet muffled moan slipping past his bitten lip, overwritten by the dripping noise of the water, his ears flush red. Damn it.

This wasn’t how he planned to spend his night, fisted around his cock, your scent thick in the air, soap and you making his head as cloudy as the humid air around him. But you’re here now, close enough that he swears he can feel the warmth of your body beyond the veil of condensation.

And maybe it’s reckless—no, it is reckless, but desire makes him bold. He exhales sharply, letting his hesitation crumble, and before he can overthink it, he pushes past the fogged glass and steps fully into view.

Your reaction is instant. A sharp gasp, eyes going wide as you stumble backward, water cascading down your bare shoulders. Your hands, trembling, fly up to shield yourself, though they do little to conceal the curve of your hips, the soft swell of your chest, the way droplets cling to your flushed skin.

His gaze darkens, tracing every detail greedily, hunger curling low in his stomach. His lips twitch, amusement flickering beneath the heat in his stare. That trembling attempt at modesty, those blown-out eyes staring at him like he's some kind of dangerous animal—like he’s something hazardous— God, he might cum right there.

"Mind if I join in? The shower is big enough for two, no?"

Your throat bobs as you swallow, eyes darting between his face and his tall, sculpted frame while he cautiously steps closer—dripping, bare, utterly unapologetic as he stands before you.

Everything feels so hot, from the hot steam to his body so close to yours, to the lingering feeling in the pit of your tummy. You should scream, slap, cuss him out, but,

"Y-you, you perv" , is all you can muster, your whole body tensing as your eyes linger at his straight, heavy dick maybe for a little too long.

Fuck, this is turning you on.

Rafayel watches every shift of your expression like a predator drinking in the scent of his prey.

Embarrassment and conflict, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying just how hard your heart is pounding.

But beneath it—Oh, he sees it. That flicker of something curious, enticed, even, something that makes his blood run straight to his already painfully hard, pounding length.

"I prefer the term 'enthusiast'. Plus," he's inching closer, finger reaching behind to turn off the flowing fountain of water, "I let you shower here for weeks, ya owe me, ya' know."

Droplets cling to his skin now, sliding over every defined muscle, down the sharp lines of his abs, following the ridges like they’re tracing a path meant for your eyes to follow.

You press yourself against the cool tile, heart hammering against your ribs, but you don’t look away. You can’t. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, hard, thick, aching.

And he’s not even trying to hide it.

"I don’t owe you anything," you manage, but your voice is weak, your body betraying you with every shaky inhale, every slight tremble he notices instantly.

Rafayel smirks, watching you intentively. "Oh, cutie," he drawls, rolling his shoulders as the warm water cascades over him, washing away the last remnants of restraint. "You don’t even believe that yourself."

Coral eyes trail lower, drinking in the sight of you of your glistening skin— the way some bubbles still slide down your curves, clinging to the peaks of your breasts before slipping down between your thighs.

"Look at cha'," he murmurs, thick voice drenched in lust "Fuckin' perfect."

You shift under his gaze, thighs pressing together, but it’s useless—he sees everything. He always does.

Your breath stutters, heat licking up your spine, but you shake your head, desperate to deny it. "That’s not—"

His fingers swiftly trail lower, slipping between your legs, rubbing just once over the slick, buttony clit, and you nearly collapse.

Rafayel groans, his forehead dropping against yours for a moment, his breath coming out ragged.

He hisses, other hand forming into a tight fist, holding onto his last bit of sanity — if there's even anything left. "Yer' cute cunny 's sayin' sometin' else," precise fingers glide down to tease your fluttering hole, "You sure you want me ta' stop?"

Your mind his clouded, gaze hazy, shaky hand coming up to trace down his slim waist, halting just above his pelvis.

A whimper escapes you, gasping when he grips your thigh and hikes it up around his waist, pressing you closer, his cock gifting your clit a quick, addictive kiss.

"You could’ve locked the door," he breathes against your ear, his voice dripping with amusement, sin. "You could’ve told me to fuck off the second I stepped inside. But you didn’t."

His lips graze your throat, nipping at the delicate skin, making you squirm.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" he growls, rolling his hips, letting the thick length of him drag against your slick folds, teasing, taunting. "You wanted me to come in and give this pussy some proper lovin' hm?"

A broken moan spills from your lips, nails digging into his shoulders, but he only grins, reveling in your unraveling.

"Say it," he demands, voice laced with need and desire. "Tell me you want this — want me, and I'll treat this needy cunny sooo good."

His digits find your clit again, circling it lazily, his teasing touch making your legs shake.

"Tell me," he repeats, pressing the head of his cock right against your entrance, barely pushing in, just enough to make you feel the stretch, make you crave for more.

Your head falls back against the tile, lips parted, body trembling, and as the words spill from you in a breathless whimper— he loses it.

Groaning, his patience snaps as he slams his mouth over yours, tongue plunging deep, stealing the last bit of your resistance. And before you can even register it he’s inside you, stretching your walls so meanly agape, your breath halts in your lungs.

"Ohhh, baby" he growls against your lips as he fully bottoms out inside you. "Finally— fuckkkk, finally. Was so tired of js' watchin' ya'."

You can feel him everywhere— his tongue tangling with yours, desperate claws on your thigh and hips, his selfish cock spreading you so lewdly, so meanly, you almost don't notice the bulge in your tummy— almost.

"Goddd, g-gonna be the death of me, cutie", his words come out in a quiet whisper as his eyes fall down to his cock marking a visible spot on your tummy, bullying his way into your cervix.

He picks up a quicker pace, deep thrust jolting you further up the cold tiles.

And each appearance of his cock against your belly, each little sound he swallows from your bitten lips make his balls tighten, threatening to pump his load deep into you.

"Ya' feel even better than I imagined. So greedy, suckin' me in so damn deep."

And he has imagined. So many times.

But now? Now he doesn’t have to anymore.

SYLUS ♡ Home Sweet Home!

Sylus always had a calculated mind, being two steps ahead of everyone around him- even you.

So once in a while when you're sleeping over at his place, he takes the sleeping-gap you both have to his advantage. Well, more often than he'd like to admit.

This has become quite the routine once you come over, he'll spend time with you, then leave for so called buissnes late at night. Sure,, he had a lot to do as the Leader of a criminal organization but sometimes? he just drove off around the corner of his home, waiting, preying.

He's purposely come home later than usual, sitting in his car as he watches you in his room through Mephisto, getting ready for bed.

He's waiting, watching intensly with his leg tapping the floor of his car as he watches you get into the bed with a defeaded sigh, the long wait of waiting for Sylus return now overwritten by the need to sleep.

So once he notices the lights turning off, your regular breathing indicating that you're far off into the dreamland now.

That's when he strikes.

The door creaks open, closing with a soft click! as Sylus steps into the dimly lit apartment.

You're sprawled out on his bed, breathing softly, body tangled in the blood-red sheets, wearing only his shirt, the fabric barely clings to your body, slipping off one delicate shoulder, the hem riding up just enough to tease a slight view of your panties.

His pupils blow in excitement, silver eyebrows raising in amusement.

"Would you look at that," he muses, voice thick with something sinful.

The bed dips as he climbs in, tugging the blanket you curled yourself into to crawl inside it, your warm, resting body spurting excitement right to his cock,

He watches you sleep, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing while palming himself through his pants. He never touched you —he would never—but God, the temptation burned.

And once he hears your sleeping form mutter a silent moan, he tenses.

What could you possibly be dreaming of?

He fights internally, fingers twitching, itching to touch you.

His suspicions solidified once a short gasp spilled from your lips, your thighs clenching under the sheets as you shamelessly moan his name in your sleep.

He pushes the blanket aside, exposing your flushed form with eyes scrunched together, thighs twitching as your hips rock against nothing.

"S-Sylus. Need you."

God, he can't help himself.

You said it yourself, you need him. So you wouldn't mind if he gives you just what you're craving for, right?

The bed dips as he climbs over you, one knee pressing between your legs. His fingers ghost along your exposed thigh, pushing the fabric up further, revealing more of the soft skin beneath, careful not to stir you from your peaceful slumber.

Sylus exhales slowly, forcing himself to move with precision and restraint. His touch is featherlight, tracing the delicate curve of your thigh, reveling in the way your skin shivers under his fingertips.

You're so warm, so soft—his perfect little prize wrapped up in his sheets, whispering his name like a prayer even in sleep.

His cock strains against his slacks, aching, desperate. But he won't rush. No, he intends to savor this. Thoroughly.

Carefully, he brushes his knuckles along the inside of your thigh, eyes locked onto your face, watching for any sign of wakefulness. But you only sigh, legs parting slightly in response as if inviting him closer.

With painstaking patience, he lets his fingers skim the edge of your panties, tracing the damp fabric stretched over your core. The moment he feels the warmth, the wetness gathered there, a deep, shuddering breath escapes him.

Fuck.

You're dreaming of him.

He palms himself through his trousers again, exhaling sharply at the realization. His perfect girl, all worked up because of him, soaking through her panties in the middle of the night, writhing against the sheets, lost in whatever sinful fantasy has her gasping his name.

It's almost too much to bear.

You shift in your sleep, a tiny sigh leaving your lips as goosebumps leave a trail on your skin from the remnant of his delightful touches.

"I'm home, honey." he hums, teasing.

His large hands slide beneath your shirt with a rough, determined purpose, fingers splaying wide as if he means to carve the shape of you into his memory. His palms are calloused, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin, and the way he grips your waist—firm, unyielding, and he wonders how you've not even woken up yet despite his desperate claws.

Breath stuttering, low and ragged, followed by a guttural groan that rumbles deep in his chest as he feels the heat of your bare flesh beneath his hands like it’s driving him out of his mind.

Leaning in without hesitation, mouth finding your exposed shoulder, lips dragging with tenderness. He doesn’t kiss so much as claim, lingering long enough for his teeth to graze the sensitive skin before moving lower.

He trails downward, tasting every inch like he’s memorizing the way you shudder beneath him.

His grip tightens, possessive, almost bruising, pulling you flush against him until there’s no space left to breathe, to think—only the pounding of your heartbeat against his and the searing heat coiled between you. His mouth finds the hollow of your throat, tongue flicking out, slow and hot, before his teeth scrape lightly, dangerously, earning a desperate sound from deep within you.

“Wakey, wakeyyy,” he hums against your skin, voice wrecked, with a teasing undertone. His hands slide higher now, beneath fabric and hesitation alike, and everywhere he touches feels like it’s burning, unraveling you thread by thread.

"Were you waiting for me like this, baby?" he hums between open-mouthed kisses, voice like warm honey, " all soft and ready for me?"

A pleased sound rumbles from his chest as you sigh in response, your body instinctively shifting closer to his heat. He watches the slow rise and fall of your breath, the way your lashes flutter ever so slightly, the unconscious parting of your lips so inviting.

His hands spread your further thighs apart, a pleased groan escaping his throat as he comes face to face with your dampened panties, outline of your needy cunt plastered so firmly, he can't look anywhere but.

He doesn't shy away, his hunger mounting as he palms himself through his slacks, the thick outline of his arousal pressing insistently against the fabric.

"Beautiful," he breathes, grinding his freed cock against you, hanging firm above his lazily undone pants, pre staining your panties even more, the wet spot now bleeding further into the cotton material. He watches with rapt fascination as your body reacts instinctively—your thighs twitch, a soft whimper escapes your lips, your hips lift ever so slightly, longing for more.

His cock twitches at the sight.

"Mmm, that's my good girl," he praises, slipping his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up just enough to slide your panties to the side before aligning his pulsating crown on your clenching hole.

Sylus pushes in slowly, letting out a long, deep groan as your warmth stretches around him. The feeling of your needy cunny—hot, tight, wet—makes his head spin.

"S-Sylus?! When did you—hngggh!"

Ah, you're awake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed over with sleep, a dazed confusion mixed with pleasure contorting your features as you register the delicious stretch filling you up.

"M' sorry, sweetheart," he hisses, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice strained with restraint. "Couldn't help myself."

Your hands scramble to grip his strong shoulders, your nails biting into the firm muscle, legs lazily wrapping around his waist, still heavy from sleep, pulling him deeper. The sensation sends him reeling, and he rolls his hips forward, sinking further until he’s buried his pulsating cock to the hilt, brushing against your cervix ridiculously fast.

"Nghhh! M-more."

He chuckles, breathless and cocky. "Mm, patience, baby. I always give you what you want, no?"

His thrusts start slow, deep, and deliberate, dragging against your sensitive walls. He watches you, utterly enthralled, drinking in the way your lips part, how your nails dig into his skin, how your body shudders beneath him.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs against your lips, voice filled with pure adoration. "Always—such a perfect girl for me."

"B-been waitin' for you for so long,", your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, your body still adjusting to the overwhelming fullness. But Sylus doesn’t stop—he won’t stop. He needs this. He needs you.

"My sweet, poor darling. But I'm here now, and 'm not leaving anytime soon."

His pace picks up, hips slamming into you harder, deeper, hitting that mawkish spot that has your toes curling, your moans turning breathless.

"Yeahhh," he growls, his grip on your thighs tightening. "You see? Told you I—hahh— always take care of you, hm?"

You can’t speak—you can only whimper, nodding frantically, back arching as pleasure crashes through you. Every thrust drags against that spot, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to snap.

"Words, baby," he demands, grinning against your cheek. "Tell me."

"T-taking so much care for me! A-always fuckin' me sooooo good—!"

His groan is primal, his thrusts turning erratic. His lips are on yours in an instant, swallowing your moans in a messy, desperate kiss. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your aching clit, rubbing fast, ruthless circles over the swollen bud.

Your body snaps.

Pleasure explodes through you, hard, hot and overwhelming, your walls clenching down around him like a vice. Your legs tighten around his waist, back arching off the bed as wave after wave crashes over you, your voice breaking on a strangled cry of his name.

"Fuck—fuck, sweetie," he groans, his rhythm stuttering. Your tight, convulsing heat sends him over the edge with you, his breath hitching, hips twitching as he buries himself as deep as he can go, spilling his hot spurts of cum inside you with a strangled, guttural grunt.

For a moment, he stays there, buried deep, catching his breath, his body trembling against yours. Then, a lazy smirk pulls at his lips.

"Gorgeous fuckin' mess," he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss against your jaw

You let out a soft, contented whimper, your body still trembling beneath him.

And by the determined glee in his eyes, you know he's not done playing with his prey yet.

CALEB ♡ No Shame!(What for?)

Your breath stalls in your chest, heart hammering against your ribs as your mind scrambles to make sense of what’s in front of you.

Panties. Your panties.

The delicate lace, once delicate, is now stuck together in places, soaked through with his cum. The sheer amount of it—thick, messy, so obviously fresh—makes your stomach tighten, not with disgust or fear, but something different.

Your fingers tremble as you hold the fabric aloft, staring, your pulse roaring in your ears.

This isn’t possible. It can’t be.

Sweet, wholesome Caleb—the one who always looked after you, who laughed at your dumb jokes, who ruffled your hair like an annoying big brother—there’s just no way. He couldn’t possibly be this perverse. He couldn’t have been stealing your underwear, jerking off into them like some depraved animal, desperate to soak them in his filth.

Right?

This was just supposed to be a quick peek into his room for any of his dirty laundry while he's showering to throw it into the machine alongside yours. Well alright, maybe you also wanted to check for your favorite missing pair of panties, just to be sure.

And there they are, the proof right here, warm and glistening between your fingers.

You’re so stunned, so utterly paralyzed by its sheer indecency that you don’t even hear the dropping water halting, the bathroom door open. Don’t even sense the presence behind you—not until you hear that soft, unmistakable click!

Your entire body jolts as realization slams into you.

You turn too fast, nearly stumbling, your breath lodged in your throat as your gaze collides with his.

He's bare-chested, still dripping from the shower, skin gleaming under the soft bedroom light, droplets of water trailing down his defined abs before disappearing beneath the loosely tucked edge of his towel, blocking the door, leaving no escape.

You’re trapped.

And the way he’s looking at you, amused, dark-eyed, and slow-smirking— so damn shameless, makes your stomach tighten in the worst possible way.

"Snooping around my room? That’s so unlike you, pips'."

His voice is smooth, unbothered, as if he isn’t standing there half-naked, as if he doesn’t see the ruined panties clutched in your trembling grasp.

His gaze flicks downward to your hand, to the lace still sticking to your fingers with his spent desire, to be exact.

Heat scorches through you. A sick, embarrassed thrill coils in your gut, because oh god—you’re still holding it.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through other people’s things?"

You drop the panties like they burn, but it’s too late.

He knows you’ve seen them, knows you’ve realized what he’s done, knows you’re still standing here, trapped in his room.

"You weren’t supposed to find those, y’know," he muses, taking another step closer. The damp heat radiating off his skin encloses you, his fresh and clean scent washing over you, making your legs go weak.

Your breath shudders unable to do anything but watch him come closer and closer, the towel on his hips hanging dangerously low.

"What’s wrong?" he hums, tilting his head, mocking innocence dripping from his voice. "Cat got your tongue? Or," he leans in, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath ghost across your cheek, "Are you just wondering how many other pairs I’ve got?"

Your pulse pounds, deafening. The way he says it so casually, so fucking bold, makes it obvious. This isn’t the first time, fuck— he’s been doing this for god knows how long.

"Caleb," you finally choke out, his name barely more than a whisper.

"Let's make a deal, sweets," he murmurs, reaching up, up, up— his fingers trace your wrist, featherlight, teasing, and playful, "I'll stop stealing them if ya' let me get a taste of the real thing. How's that sound, pips'?"

And your hesitant nod, bitten lips, and glazed eyes are all he needs as his strong hands grip your waist, twisting you around, forcing you backward.

Your back hits the mattress with a gasp, the soft give of his bed swallowing your weight. The room spins, the scent of him, clean from his shower, wrapping around you, suffocating in the most intoxicating way.

This is wrong.

He's on you, caging you in, hands moving quickly to remove your short pants from your legs, your shirt riding up in the process, panties on full display, and not to mention the prominent wet, stain riiiight at the center of where he imagines your needy cunt to be.

Oh so you want this as much as he does, huh?

His arms are braced on either side of your head, towel hanging low on his hips, barely clinging on. His damp hair drips onto your skin, cool against the fire burning beneath your flesh. His muscles flex above you, broad shoulders dwarfing you, leaving you breathless under his weight.

Who are you trying to fool?

You wanted this, hell- maybe even prayed for your panties to be in his possession, prayed for him to finally touch you, to have him between your legs like this,

And your prayers have been heard.

His knee spreads your legs without hesitation, without shame, pinning you open beneath him. And before you can even think, his head dips down, his mouth right at your thigh, his nose dragging against the heat between your legs.

"Never seen this pair before," he breathes, his voice rough, heavy with something filthy.

Your whole body locks up because god—he’s so close, pressing his face against your panties, nuzzling the damp fabric, so shamelessly, so utterly desperate, taking a big whiff of your scent, making you wail in embarrassment.

A deep, guttural, fucking shameless moan wrecks from his throat, so obscene, so needy, that you feel the heat of it pulse straight to your needy pussy.

"Fuckkk," he groans, dragging his nose up, nuzzling slow, breathing deep. "Ya' smell so damn sweet, baby."

Your hands fly to his shoulders, weakly pushing, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he presses in deeper.

"Didn't think ya' could keep ts' cute cunny hidden from me, did ya'?" he purrs, hot breath fanning against the wetness he’s indulging in, dropped gaze engulfing your expressions whole.

And then—

His tongue. Right against the fabric, mere atoms away from your bare clit, slow, deliberate kitten-licks draaaag over the damp lace, so close yet so maddeningly far, and your head snaps back against the mattress, a moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

His breath left him in a rough chuckle, fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to rip your lace apart right then and there.

"H-hey, no peeking!" You try to scold, your hands darting down to grasp his hand threatening to get rid of the fabric—but Caleb's faster.

Hand snapping yours away, a low growl retorts, a primal sound that sends heat licking down your spine.

He loves your panties, he really does. But right now, he just wants to fucking tear them apart.

"Baby, ohhh — babybabybaby," he groans against your hidden folds, rolling his hips once, twice against the bed, watching as your head tipped back, a sharp gasp leaving you.

"C-Caleb—"

That was all it took for him to finally lose it.

With one swift movement, a loud riiiip! echoing as he tears your panties from you, exposing your aching pussy bare before him.

He doesn't tease. Doesn't wait.

A low, primal sound resonates before he crashes headfirst into your soaked cunt. His hands take control, gripping your thighs, dragging you forward until your soaked heat is pressed firmly against his eager mouth as he bucks his hips into the bed like a desperate mess.

A sharp cry rips from your throat, legs locking around his head as he fills you with his tongue, forcing you open. Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, biting teasingly, sucking onto your clit with such a devastating grip your mind goes blank.

"Yer' fucking drenched," he groans, voice tight with restraint. "So eager for me, hmm?"

Each drag of his tongue scraping the inside of your hole, his nose repeatedly bumping into your throbbing clit sends pleasure detonating through your core, deep and merciless, making you cling to his hair with desperate fingers. The room's air is thick, humid, filled with the obscene sound of sloppy spurts of your juices coating his face, the sharp gasps, the deep grunts of a man losing himself in you— in your pussy.

His tongue presses down harder on your clit, circling in tight, devastating licks that had your thighs trembling around his head.

Every time his tongue drags over you, his hips jerk in rhythm, grinding pathetically against nothing but air and friction, chasing the sensation like a man starved.

But it’s the way he works his tongue that sends you spiraling, spelling out his name over your throbbing, swollen clit like a brand.

C-A-L-E-B-C-A-L-E-B-C-A-L-E-

Each letter feels like it’s seared into you, curling perfectly around every sensitive nerve, his mouth obscene in its devotion. There’s nothing measured about it now, nothing held back, just raw, consuming need as he devours you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity.

"H-hahhh, fuck!—" Your voice wrecked, high-pitched, barely coherent. Your nails bite into his scalp, desperate for something to anchor you as your body teetered on the edge.

Your fingers twist tightly in his hair, yanking hard enough to make his head tilt back for a moment, his groan reverberating straight through your core. The sound vibrates against you, deep and guttural, sending a sharp jolt of electricity ripping down your spine.

He doesn’t falter, if anything, the rough pull only spurs him on. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and glazed, pupils blown wide with hunger, and the sight alone nearly undoes you.

“Feels good, baby?” he rasps against your hole, his voice wrecked, teasing, but tinged with something almost desperate.

The plap, plap, plap of his hips rutting against the sheets with shameless abandon, towel long abandoned on the floor somewhere, matching the frantic curl of his tongue as he snaps his hips up, the sound of his slurping assault lewd and filthy.

"Give it ta' me, c'mon. Allll of it," Caleb mutters, vibration hot against your folds, his grip tightening, the muscles in his arms flexing as he slams you firmly, deep into the mattress, leaving no room to move.

The pleasure crested, blinding, and almost unbearable. Your whole body locked up as the first wave of your orgasm slammed into you—violent, tearing a broken, breathless scream from your lips, your tongue helplessly dangling from your open mouth, slick saliva dripping onto the sheets.

But Caleb doesn't stop.

He keeps going, arms locking around your thighs, forcing them up, up up, harshly against your stomach in a mating press, dragging out every last pulse, every aftershock, every clench of your walls around his wet muscle.

"That's it," he groans, voice ragged with need. "So fucking—shiiitt—tasty fuckin' pussy—"

Your body convulses, pleasure still rolling through you in relentless waves, too much and not enough at the same time. Your thighs shake, breath coming in ragged gasps, vision hazy as your orgasm drags on—longer, deeper, more intense than you’d ever felt before.

"Fuhh-fuck!—"

And as you come down from your soul-shattering high, arm dapped across your face to catch your breath, his hunter eyes bore into your form, hand sneaking down to snatch the destroyed piece of fabric from the valley of your ass, swiftly stuffing them under his pillow.

Bingo. Another one added to his collection.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[lucidfairies]

— mess around [sevika]

part two • part three • part four

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating, dom!sev, sub!reader, inexperienced reader (with women), size kink, light domestic kink, cum kink, tribbing, cunniligus, fingering, PRAISE, pet names, finger sucking, aggressive husband, he threatens to shoot Sevika, drinking/r gets drunk, m/f sex mentioned very briefly, r has long enough hair to braid

a/n: hi! I don't condone cheating. this is only part one, there'll be several parts ;)

wc: 6.5k

The air was thick in the outskirts of the city on Saturday morning. You rose with the sun, ready for a long day of moving, especially without your husband. This was a rushed decision, moving into this house together. You believed that the house was too large, no single couples needed three bedrooms, but your husband insisted that it would be perfect when you two chose to begin a family in future. And, well, you listened to him. He was good at talking you into things you didn’t want to do.

The house bared down on you when you arrived hours later. The porch was long, stretching around the corners of the house, large double-doors beckoning to be opened. The jagged edge of the key in your hand dug into your palm the longer you looked at the home, and you decided to suck it up and go in.

Walking in, you were greeted by a large kitchen with expansive glass windows that looked over the fields that came with the house. It was truly a gorgeous house, you were simply unsure if it was the place for you. But it was too late, the house was already yours, and the keys jingled as you sat them on the counter top.

The moving trucks would arrive soon, but you allowed yourself a moment to breathe as you walked throughout the house, peaking in each room. The largest bedroom had windows that mimicked those in the kitchen, and against your best hopes, your husband had been right. The other bedrooms would make good nurseries. For now, one would be an office and the other would be a guest bedroom. But you could envision your future.

There was a loud whistle from outside, indicating that at least one of the trucks had arrived. You released a sigh and traveled back downstairs, opening the doors with a whoosh of warm air. A mover hopped out of the large truck and came over to greet you, shaking your hand and explaining what was going to happen.

As the movers began bringing things into the house, you observed the outside. Across the street was the only close house, which sat on miles of land just as your new home did. The other house was different, though. It had miles of fencing, caging in horses and sheep, and if you squinted, you swore you could see cows in a small barn far down on the edges of the land.

Because the movers didn’t need you yet, you decided to venture across the street and meet the new neighbors. You didn’t look your best, as you were dressed to move, and you didn’t have anything to give them when you greeted them, but it didn’t matter. You could always invite the family over for dinner in the future.

There was a pair of brown, ratty cowboy boots resting against one of the steps, which made sense for the area. You were against moving south, you didn’t enjoy the heat and you had never ridden a horse before, but your husband insisted. The boots were lined with what looked like generations worth of mud, caked into every crevice and line.

You knocked on the door, waiting a moment before it opened. What you weren’t expecting was to be met with the sternum of a woman in front of you. It took you a moment to look up, and up, and up, before you met her eyes. She had a sullen expression on her face, as if you had just ruined her entire day. You tried not to think much of it, and you barely could with the attractive nature of the woman.

It was just her height that made her large - no, the woman had muscle packed onto her more than anyone you believed to have seen in your life. She was in a white shirt and jeans that hugged her muscular thighs so tightly you worried the seam would rip. Her eyes were grey, and they contrasted against her darker skin. Her hair was short, pulled away from her face and her lips were downturned as she looked at you.

“Hi,” you chirped nervously. “I just moved in across the street, I figured I would come introduce myself,” you gave her your name, a dark blush of embarrassment gracing your cheeks. “You have a lovely home.” The woman’s lips quirked into a side smirk, and your face grew hotter.

“Sevika,” her hand reached out between you, and there was a beat between you before you realized that she was offering her hand to shake. You cleared your throat, enveloping her palm in your own. Her hand practically swallowed yours. “Seems like a pretty big house for one little lady, sugar.” She joked, glancing over at the house as she leaned her weight against the door frame.

“Oh, no, it’s my husband and I. He’s away with business until late tonight, so I’m moving what I can.” A disapproving look smeared against her face.

“He left you alone?” You nodded slowly, unsure of what she was getting to. She looked over her shoulder, as if to check if anything or anyone was in her house. “If you’d like some help, I ain't got any plans ‘til the evening.” Your heart lept in your chest. Everything about your body’s reaction felt wrong. You could’ve begged this woman for help.

“That would be lovely, actually.” You smiled, trying not to seem as nervous as you felt. Your heart was thumping loudly, you swore you were about to faint. Maybe it was from the heat, women never made you feel this way in the past.

“Let me get myself cleaned up and I'll meet you over there, darlin’.” Her accent was thick. You were going to die. You nodded, smiling, and turned back in the direction of your house. At least you wouldn't have to move alone.

-

Before you knew it, the clock was striking five, and the majority of your furniture had been moved where it needed to go. Sevika did all of it - most of the time you just stood there looking pretty and instructing her where to go. Sevika thoroughly enjoyed it. She noticed the gentle bite of your lip when she lifted something heavy, your eyes tracing down the lines of her arms. You hadn't initially noticed the prosthetic in place of where her left arm should be, but it only made her that much more interesting.

For lunch you made sandwiches and lemonade, forcing her to sit and take a break instead of continuing to work for you. “Y’r just sweet as cane, ain'tcha?” she had said, taking the plate of food. You chose to ignore the rush in your panties.

You both stood in the kitchen and Sevika was breathing heavily, catching her breath after moving a series of dining chairs into your new dining room for you. You came to her, gently tracing your fingertips over her bicep as you pushed up on your toes and kissed her cheek. “Thank you so much, Sevika. I greatly appreciate it,” you said with a soft smile, “and you’re so strong.” You squeezed her arm, taking in a sharp breath at how hard the muscle actually was.

“You’re very welcome, darlin’.” When she smiled, you noticed a gap in her teeth that you hadn’t seen before. It fit her face perfectly.

“Will you let me make you dinner for your trouble?” You turned around, reaching for the single cookbook that you had bothered unpacking, resting on the counter.

“You’ve worked far too hard to be bothered with cookin’ tonight, pretty girl. Why don’t you join me? I’m going to dinner with some friends. You’ll enjoy ‘em.” You pondered for a moment, but the answer was clear. You hadn’t actually wanted to cook, but you would’ve done anything she asked.

“That would be nice. How’s six sound? I should probably clean up.” You gestured down your body at your sweaty clothes. You could already picture what you were going to wear - there was a sundress in a box in your bedroom, maybe you could track down the pair of cowboy boots you wore to a concert once.

“Sounds good, sugarplum. Wear somethin’ pretty for me, yeah?” Heat rose from your chest and crept up your neck, finding home on your cheeks. Sevika didn’t fail to notice, she adored it. No matter what she said to you, you were blushing and stuttering.

You found yourself on Sevika’s front porch at six round, inevitably in the outfit you were thinking of earlier. Your hair was in a loose braid, with a bow at the end, and you believed that you looked cute, but it could be better. Nothing compared to the way Sevika looked at you when you knocked, though.

She was in the same thing she was already wearing, except with a jacket thrown over her white tee, a cowboy hat, and some matching boots. God, you could eat her up. “Did as told, I see.” She nodded towards you, hat dipping with her head. “We’re going to the best bar in town, you ain't got nothin’ to worry about.” She walked out of the house, locking the door behind her and leading you to her car.

“So, Sevika,” you began, once you were settled into your passenger seat. “Do you live alone?” you had wondered, since she gave up her day to assist you and offered to bring you to dinner.

“Yes ma'am,” she responded, small grin painting her face. “Got some livestock ‘nd a dog. ‘s all I need.” You nodded.

“Have you ever been married?” She didn't seem like the type to enjoy marriage, and she wore no ring. Maybe you just couldn't imagine her in a traditional marriage - what kind of man would a woman like her even be interested in?

She chuckled. “Nah, holdin’ out for the right one.” you smiled. Sometimes you wondered if you held out for the right one. You loved your husband, but your love often felt fabricated. Like you had to love him, like a requirement.

She pulled up to the bar, it was a ragly old place, with a crooked sign and some wood falling off, but it was pretty. It read, plainly, The Last Drop, and you wondered where the name came from, or how she came to find this place in the middle of nowhere.

She ushered you in with a large, warm hand on the small of your back, gently directing you towards a table full of people. They already had drinks, and you feared that somehow you made the woman late.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sevy.” A woman quipped. She wasn't like anything you'd seen before - tall, long blue hair, and tattoos. She was gorgeous, quite a sight. “Who's your lady friend?” The woman looked over at you and winked with a smirk.

“Watch it, Jinx,” she retorted, taking a seat next to a woman with pink hair, and you took the one next to her. She introduced you to the group, and a small blush crept up your cheeks. In order, she introduced everyone around the table. “Jinx and I worked for the same guy a couple years back. He passed, but she still hangs around,” Jinx shot her a look and took a sip of her drink. “Ekko, her husband. Caitlyn and Vi, they're married.” You greeted each of them.

Being with Sevika was something you had never imagined possible. She ordered and paid for your meal and your drinks, and let you get as many as you wanted. You didn't exactly feel like you fit in with her crowd of people, they were a little rowdy and loud, but the company was enjoyable.

It was late when the first couple left - Jinx and Ekko, to go relieve their babysitter. Caitlyn and Vi left soon after, no particular reason. It left you a Sevika, and when she began talking to you, the amount of alcohol in your system finally hit you.

“Sevika,” you slurred, grabbing her arm as you looked up at her, “can I have your hat?”

Her cheeks warmed, dark blush finding home on them. “What’d’ya need my hat for, babygirl?” She chuckled, trying to play off her nervousness. Clearly, you didn't know how hats worked in bars.

“‘s pretty on you,” she was still laughing as she took it off and placed it on your head. And god, you looked good. Thoughts of filth coursed through her mind and she attempted to shut them down, with no luck. You were her married neighbor. She couldn't possibly be thinking of you in the way she was.

“Let's get you home, cowgirl.” She gently grabbed your upper arm, helping you off your stool. When you stumbled, she turned you around, your back facing her front as she grabbed your forearms and helped you walk.

You slumped against her in the car, head resting on her shoulder as sleep drew you in. You didn't get drunk often, but when you did, it always made you tired. Especially after a full day of work.

Your husband's car was in the driveway when you both returned to your neighborhood. Sevika pulled into your new, fancy driveway and quickly came to your side to assist your walk into your house. After a few steps, your husband threw open the front door, anger pouring off of him.

“What the fuck is this?” He yelled at Sevika, who simply looked at him. “What the fuck did you do to my wife?” He ripped you from her arms, making you hunch and your stomach twist. Sevika backed up, hands in the air like she was facing a cop.

“We went out for dinner and she had a couple drinks. I was just bringin’r home.” She insisted. Your husband didn't care - he was livid. In his mind, some woman that he had never seen before got his wife drunk and did god knows what to you.

“Get the fuck off my property and don't fucking come back or I'll shoot you dead.” He spat, dragging you inside. You looked over your shoulder, watching Sevika walk down the driveway, shaking her head. She got in her car and drove home, and that was the last you saw of her.

To your misfortune, you remembered none of what happened the previous night when you awoke. You remembered portions of dinner, some blurry faces, Sevika’s murmured ‘babygirl’, but nothing of the way your husband treated her. And he made no effort to enlighten you as to what happened -

So, for weeks afterward when Sevika avoided you, you had no idea why. You didn’t even know if she was avoiding you on purpose, maybe she was just a busy woman. Maybe the day she spent with you was a one time thing. But, your curiosity brewed every time you saw her at home.

You knew you had too much to drink that night, but you had never taken yourself for a sloppy drunk, or a mean one. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have said or done something vulgar, but it was out of your character. Maybe she simply didn’t enjoy your company as much as you did hers. There were millions of options, millions of reasons as to why no words had been uttered since that day.

You were growing accustomed to your new life. Your husband went to work every day, occasionally went on a business trip, and you tended to the house. It wasn’t ever what you had thought your life would look like, or wanted your life to look like. But it wasn’t bad. It was relaxing, and allowed you freedoms that you didn’t previously have when you both worked and lived in a small city apartment.

And there was the other part. You were learning to tend to the house so that you were ready for when you were to bear children - something that your husband had insisted was coming soon, and therefore had suggested you begin trying. The night he suggested that was the night the pit in your stomach became unbearable. Trying for a baby? With him? You weren’t sure you were ready for that, or frankly wanted that.

It was a sunny, warm morning when you left to get the mail. Dew had settled in the grass, and the southern air was thick. You were in a nightgown, one of your favorites, that was outlined in lace, a nice pale yellow color. You had panties that matched, clung to your skin underneath the short gown.

Before you could turn to go back up the driveway and into the house, you noticed Sevika’s door opening, and there stood the one and only. She was in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a wifepleaser, slippers finishing the outfit nicely.

“Sevika!” You yelled from across the street, a wide smile as you raised a hand to wave. Her head snapped up from her mail, but before she could hide, you were making your way across the street. She wasn’t getting out of this one. “Sevika, hi! I haven’t seen you around, you must be one busy woman.” You joked. She smiled, demeanor softening.

“You could say that,” She responded awkwardly, knowing damn well she was not a busy woman, especially not if you needed something. “Was there anything else? Don’t need your husband gettin’ all pissy again, ma’am.” Your brows knit, confusion drawing itself on your pretty features.

Fuck. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have possibly known. You were so drunk that night that there was no way you remembered what happened, and now Sevika just dropped the bomb. “Whatever do you mean, Sevika?” God, you drew her in, sweet as honey.

“I best get goin’. Gotta feed the chickens.” She had already fed her chickens today, twice because she was so tired.

“No, Sevika. What do you mean? Did he do something to you?” Sevika sighed, throwing a quick glance towards your house to assure that your husband wasn’t home. His car was missing from the driveway, and that was all she needed to know.

“The night you came out with me you drank a lot, could hardly walk by y’rself. Brought ya home and he got angry, threatened to shoot me if I came near you again. ‘m not tryna get shot anytime soon, sweet thing.” Your lips parted, small gasp falling from them. Sevika prayed she never forgot the noise.

“Sev…” you paused, trying to formulate what you wanted to say to her. “I’m so sorry he did that. His temper can get the best of him sometimes, I promise he’s a good man. We don’t own any guns. How can I apologize?” Sevika envisioned a few ways. “How about dinner? Tomorrow? He’ll be out of town for a couple days, he’s taking the train up north. I’ll cook for you?”

Sevika was blushing. Sevika never blushed. “Miss, you ain’t gotta do all that for me.”

“No, you deserve it. You must come. Tomorrow, six, please?” Your eyes softened as you looked up at her, and she would’ve moved mountains to give you what you wanted in that moment. But luckily, it was a lot easier than that.

“If you insist,” she said with a small smile, “I’ll be there, sugar.” You grinned, clapping your hands twice. “I like steak, if you’re willing.” She swore she saw your smile widen.

“Perfect, I have just the recipe. I can’t wait, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sevika!” You said eagerly, as you began walking back to your house, tossing her a wave over your shoulder.

The longer you thought about it, the more the situation angered you. Sevika was doing you a favor, a noble one at that, just to be treated like shit by the person that was supposed to protect you. Everything she said made the idea of having a child with this man less and less appealing. You hardly acknowledged him when he returned home that night, and hardly bid him farewell when he left in the morning. It was tough to look at him.

It was late afternoon when you got the food in the oven and began getting ready. You didn’t know whether this was formal or not, so you chose something in the middle. You chose a simple half up, half down style, bringing the top of your hair into a pretty bun and leaving the rest down to curl. You did your makeup, then went through your closet, trying to find something that matched the appeal you were trying to convey.

Part of you wanted to put on something that your husband would hate; a pair of jeans and a top, or even something casual. But the other half, and the half that won, begged you to dress yourself in something attractive. Something that would draw her in, making her look at you, in the ways your husband never did.

The thought was terrible, obscene even. You had never even begun to think of someone in the way you were thinking of Sevika now, especially while married. It was awful. And then you remembered what he did to her, what he did to you. How he made you move hundreds of miles from your family and quit your job to play house.

You chose a dress that was shorter than anything you believed to have ever dressed yourself in. It hardly covered your ass, and it was slutty. So very slutty, so unlike you. And you liked it. You liked the way it hugged your figure, made your boobs look fuller and your hips wider.

The dress was strapless and white, coming in at the waist and flaring slightly until it ended. You added a white bow to your bun for good measure, and a pair of white kitten heels that opened at the toe. Confidence was a drug, and you were addicted.

The oven rang moments before Sevika knocked, right on time. You took out the food and set it on the counter, tossing your oven mitts to the side to get the door. When you opened it, Sevika drank you in like a tall glass of wine. Her eyes moved along you slowly, as if she was trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body. She followed the line of your dress, eyes falling on the over-exposure of your thighs, and they paused there for a moment.

And her mind was running wild.

“Hi Sevika,” you greeted, cheeks warmer than they had ever been. This was terrible, disgusting. And it was going the exact way you wanted it to. “You look nice.” She did. She was in black slacks and a white t-shirt with an unbuttoned, short sleeved button-down thrown overtop. It was cropped just the right amount, ending where her slacks began. It had a gorgeous pattern of red and black and white, and it was as if your minds had thought the same, and here you were matching.

“If I’m nice, you must be world-stopping.” She said, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your knuckle. “The food smells great.” Her eyes were addicting. You simply couldn’t draw yourself away, even after it had been several beats since she spoke.

“Do come in,” you opened the door wider and she stepped in, engulfing the doorframe. “I just need to plate the food and we can eat. Feel free to sit.” She did as told, taking a seat at the small table while you plated the food. You placed her plate in front of her, but she was too busy watching the way you worked and moved around the kitchen to bother looking at the food.

“You didn’t have to do all this, sugar. Seems like a lot of work.” You chuckled.

“It’s truly not. If anything, it’s routine. My husband has me staying home now, tending to the house. I cook a lot. You’re the first person I’ve had over in quite some time.” You took your place, smoothing out your dress. Sevika looked surprised at your remark.

“If I had a woman as pretty as you I would take her everywhere. Show’r off to the world.” Your mouth was agape again. Your husband never said things like that to you. It made your skin warm and your stomach flutter.

Realizing that you had been staring at her for a moment, you averted your gaze, dropping it to your plate in embarrassment. “You’re very nice, Sevika. You know how to talk a woman up.” She grinned, leaning back in her chair and spreading her legs into a, somehow, sexy manspread. You never found the way of seating particularly attractive, but when she did it, you had several thoughts about it. Positive ones. Dirty ones.

“It’s working, then?” Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything, she was speaking again. “You should eat, sugar. Food’s gon’ get cold.” She was smirking, and when you looked down at her plate, she was all but finished. You wondered how long you had been entranced by her, if it meant that more than half her food was already gone and you had hardly started.

You ate quickly, almost choking at the rate at which you stuffed your face. She was finished before you, and wasted no time taking her dishes to the sink and beginning to clean them. When you were finished, you shot up, hurrying over to her and gently pushing her to the side. “You’re a guest, you don’t have to clean your own dishes, that’s rude.” You joked, taking her plate from her hands.

“I’m a capable woman, babygirl. I can clean my own plate, I do it every day.” You shooed her hands away as she reached for her plate, until she was grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the counter, human hand holding your wrist while her mechanical arm trapped you against her.

When you looked up at her, your clit started beating. She was looking down at you, low eyes painted with displeasure. “Let me help you, angel. It won’t kill ya.”

The feelings swirling within you were nothing you had ever felt before. Your body was on fire, you were surprised that your wrist wasn’t burning Sevika’s large palm. Her body heat was radiating into you, and you could feel the meat of her thighs against yours, and the curve of her hips as they kissed your own. Your panties were wet, your thighs were sticky, but you were sure it was sweat.

“Sevika…” You whispered, but any additional thoughts were cut off by the harsh press of her lips to yours, the force pushing you against the sink even harder. Your eyes widened for a second, but quickly fluttered closed as your body accepted what was happening and leaned into it. You  pushed off the sink, pressing your front against hers. She let go of your wrist and your hands found purchase on her neck, pulling at her short hair.

She moaned softly into your mouth, grabbing your hip with her human hand and pushing your hips against the sink so your back arched a little further, tits pushed against hers. Her lips attacked yours, tongue dipping into your mouth and sucking, pulling noises out of you that you had never heard before.

You pulled away, admiring her flushed face and swollen lips. She was breathing heavily, and the look on her face dropped into terror as she realized what she had done. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She backed up, releasing you from your spot against the sink. “Gods,” she rubbed her hands over her face, “I just kissed a married woman in her husband’s home. I should leave.”

“Don’t.” You came to where she was standing, softly grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from her face. She was scared, looking at you. Scared of what could happen. Scared of how it would be if it didn’t happen.

Slowly, cautiously, you pressed up on your toes and pulled her in for another kiss. And she was lost. Gone, forever. There was no returning from this.

She grabbed your ass, lifting you easily onto the counter as she continued kissing you. Her body was hard and hot and calling you, and the way she dragged her hands up and down your waist, carefully flicking her thumb over your nipple made your panties drenched. “Do that again,” you whined, arching your tits towards her.

“Do what, sugar?” She played coy, letting her hands rest on your waist. “This?” She ran her human hand up your side and flicked her thumb over your nipple again, craving the moan that fell from your lips. “Tell me, sugar, was it this?” She pulled the top of your dress down slowly, giving you time to interject. But you didn’t, and she made quick work of removing your bra.

She left wet, hot kisses down your chest, lips latching around your nipple. She sucked hard, making you cry out and grind your hips in the air. She could’ve made a snarky comment about that, she desperately wanted to, but the way your body reacted to her mouth on your perky nipple was too compelling.

Once she had given both of your tits equal attention, she stood back up and met your eyes. “Y’r gonna have to tell me where this is goin’, baby. ‘m not goin’ any further until you tell me with words.” Your head fell against her chest, panting.

“Please, please fuck me, Sev.” With a soft ‘fuck’, she lifted you off the counter, your legs locking around her hips. She carried you down the hall with your instruction, kicking the door closed and locking it before placing you on the bed, gingerly.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, mama.” She pulled it down, waiting for you to lift your hips so she could finish the job. Before she could admire you, you were grabbing her by her t-shirt and pulling her on top of you, kissing her once again. Nothing in the world was better than this.

“Sevika,” you moaned as her mouth was reunited with your boobs. “Take off your shirt.” She did as instructed, losing her button down and t-shirt in a few short motions. It left her in her slacks and a sports bra, a great look for her. She stood at the end of the bed, and she grabbed your ankle to pull you down with her. Your ass was on the edge of the bed, and your legs were propped up, spread wide.

“Fuck,” she looked over your body, then threw her head back and shut her eyes. This was wrong. It was awful. You’re married. But the way your panties sat high on your hips and had a noticeable wet spot in the middle was enough to waiver her thoughts.

“Sevika,” you said, weakly. “What do we.. do? I’ve never done this with a woman.” She chuckled a little, sinking to her knees at the edge of the bed, so that her face was level with your cunt. You could feel her warm breath against you, and it made you shiver.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy, angel. What happens next is up to you. But I need my face in y’r pussy.” She looked up at you as she painted your thighs with kisses, occasionally stopping to suck on the skin. She was careful, she didn’t leave any marks, but she adored having your skin in her mouth. She adored having you in her mouth.

You weren’t prepared for her first lick against your cunt. She licked a fat strip from bottom to top over your panties, and you reeled, arching into it and bringing your legs together. She placed both of her hands on the insides of your thighs, forcing them apart. “You’re gonna keep these open for me, ain’tcha, sugar?” Weakly, you nodded, relaxing and allowing your legs to fall apart.

She continued eating you over your panties, sucking at your clit until you weren’t sure what was from you and what was her spit, everything was drenched. She sat up, reaching for the waistband of your panties. Instinctively, you lifted your hips, and she smirked as she pulled them down. “Good job, darlin’, knew exactly what I needed.” Your stomach flipped, and you were sure you were dripping.

Sevika was looking at you like you were prey and she hadn’t eaten in a month. Your cunt was glistening, and you were practically dripping onto the bed. And it was all for her. “Well, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, mama.” You whimpered, entrance clenching at her words, and she could fucking see it. See the way your body reacted to her. She could’ve died a happy woman, right then and there.

She was on her knees again in an instant, tongue finding your clit and sucking. She did all sorts of magical things; twisted her tongue around the bud, flicked it with her tongue, sucked like something would come out if she did. You were practically crying at what she did, it was overwhelming.

Your husband had eaten you out before, several times. He claimed to like it, but it was never quite right. It was never like this. Not when Sevika placed a kiss on your clit and slipped her tongue in you, wasting no time fucking you with her tongue. Her mech hand came up and pinched your nipple, the cool metal feeling like heaven against your overheated skin.

“Sevika,” you cried, fingers winding in her hair as her tongue worked. You were getting close, she could tell. Your clit was twitching and you were clenching around her tongue, but she kissed her way back to your clit and pressed a cautionary finger against your entrance. “Sev, fuck, Sevika, please fill me up, please,” Sevika let out a deep moan into your cunt, her own clit begging for attention.

She kept her mech hand on your nipple while she slowly slid her middle finger into you, stretching you more than your husband’s fingers ever did. She took it slow, going knuckle by knuckle until you bottomed out on her finger. She didn’t rush you, letting you adjust to the feeling of her thick digit inside you before moving.

The feeling of her tongue on your clit and her finger against your g-spot had you crying and whining, begging her for more, more, more, until she gave it to you. She introduced another finger into the mix, letting her ring finger enter you at the same pace as the other.

Two fingers and her tongue must be heaven. She knew exactly what to do, and you were absolutely going to cum. Over and over, at that. She lifted up for a moment, not relenting with her pace. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me have it.”

The knot in your stomach released and all the tension in your muscles relaxed, letting your orgasm flow through your body. Your back arched off the bed and you gripped her hair tightly, the waves of pleasure more intense than any you’d felt before. She made sure she had you coming for as long as she could, unrelenting in her pace until she had milked every drop from you.

You were panting, and you let out a practically pornographic whine when she retracted her fingers from you and stood up, leaning over you. “Open y’r mouth, baby. Stick out your pretty tongue.” Her fingers were quick to breach your lips once your mouth was open, and you shut it around them, sucking your cum off her digits.

Her clit hurt. It was beating so hard, and watching you suck her fingers just made her go even more crazy. She pushed your limits, forcing her fingers further down her throat to see how much you could take. And to her surprise, you took them to the base with no problem, and it made her desperate to see her strap down your throat. “That’s my good girl, ain’t it? Suckin’ me so good.” You moaned, but it was muffled around her fingers.

The hat resting on your closet door handle caught her eye, and a malicious idea bloomed in her. “I want you to ride me, angel. Needa’ come on your pussy.” You sat up, watching her as she grabbed her hat from the closet handle. She tossed it to you and unbuckled her pants, pulling them from her body inch by inch until you got to see all of her. Her boxers came off next, and it was such a sight.

She plopped down on the bed, and you looked at her expectantly, waiting for further instruction. Her legs spread, and she lifted one of them to make space between them for you. You made assumptions, hovering between her legs and glancing over at her. “Ride me, cowgirl. Go until you feel good.”

It took some maneuvering for you to find an angle that worked for both you and Sevika, but when it did, it was earth shattering. Her clit against yours felt like you had been blessed by God, and her wetness seeping into yours felt like she could get you pregnant. She was groaning beneath you, humping you like some kind of fucking dog, and it was the best thing ever.

She reached over and grabbed her hat, placing it on your head. “That’s it, that’s my cowgirl, ain’t it? Fuck, you ride me so well, baby.” You came down harsher against her, the feeling too good to be slow or soft.

“Nnghh- vika,” that is what got Sevika over the edge. Hearing you moan that nickname like a fucking pornstar had her gripping your hips and holding you in place as she fucked up into you and came all over you, whimpering like a bitch in heat. A string of curses fell from her pretty lips before she released your hips and let you chase your second orgasm, one that had you falling onto her chest, unable to move from your fucked out muscles.

After a couple minutes she gently brushed your hair away from your face, admiring your beauty.  You groaned softly, sitting up on your elbow to meet her eyes. “That was really good.” You said, softly. “What if you stay the night?” Sevika shook her head, crawling out of the bed.

“‘m sorry, sweet thing. I don’t feel right stayin’ here after fuckin’ you. ‘s not fair to y’r husband.” You pouted, remembering his existence, to your misfortune. Sudden emotions flooded you as you watched Sevika dress; you just cheated on your husband, and had sex with a woman. Not just any woman - your neighbor. That you would have to see, every day, for the rest of your time living in this neighborhood.

She pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and you let your eyes flutter shut, you let yourself enjoy it before it was wrong. “Bye, Sevika. I’ll see you at happy hour next week?” She smiled softly, knowing she would do anything and everything in her power to be there for you.

“Absolutely, babygirl.” And with that, she was gone.

lmk if you wanna be tagged in future parts!

[nerdlvr]

not so little is it?

(MDNI)

younger jaemin x older reader , small age gap , jaemin is brothers best friend , ur brother is mark lee , big dick jaem , jaem is bigger than reader , size kink if you squint , kinda public sex (ur both in the kitchen & living room and mark is in his room) , harsh blowjob , cowgirl yeehaw , couch missionary , jaemin is cocky and mean , pet names like a lot , light mocking , degradation kinda , jaemin refers to himself and y/n in third person sometimes idk , jaemin knows how to use his dick damn... , requested here !

it  had been the fifth time that night that you had called jaemin baby. and not baby in a i wanna fuck you type of way, baby in a little boy type of way. If only you could go into his brain and see all the things jaemin would do to shut you up. maybe he’d stuff your mouth with his big, hard-

“babyy, are you listening? The popcorns ready!”

jaemin felt his eye twitch, a small fake smile directed at your pretty face. he shook his head softly, turning his head back to focus on the movie.

“dude you need to stop calling him that, we’re not even that much younger than you.”

jaemin could not agree more with your brother.

he was never one to hold grudges, it was childish, unlike him. but for some reason you had been more annoying than usual tonight, the high pitched ‘baby’ and the sweet toned ‘minnie’ only itching him in all the wrong places.

he turned to the clock in mark’s room, 2:00 AM, well shit. had he really laid here for 3 hours straight thinking about your annoying mouth? his eyes drifted down to his now tented boxers, well double shit. maybe thinking about your mouth right next to your sleeping brother wasn’t the best idea. he needed a walk.

.

the cool air from the fridge numbed his senses, his nipples perking up at the soft breeze.

ice cream, butter, cheese, ew. did mark have anything without milk? wait isn’t mark lactose intoler- “his fridge looks like something out of a horror film right?”jaemin felt the hair on his body rise as he jumped, the fridge shutting loudly behind him, a hand coming up to his chest, “jesus you scared me.”

you giggled as you poked his bare chest, "sorry didn't mean to scare you baby. was just coming out for a snack."

baby, did you like to test his patience? he pushed your hand away as he let out a loud huff, "don't call me that."

your soft giggle continued to ring in his ears, your hands now moving to pinch the fabric of his boxers, "call you what, bunny boy?"

his eyes drifted down to his boxers, small bunnies adorning the fabric. he grabbed your wandering hand, smirking as you let out a pained whine. "does your mouth do anything good besides spout nonsense?"

you ripped your hand away from his tightening grasp, your free hand coming up to massage the sensitive skin,"what's your problem jaemin? i'm being nice to you and you're acting like a brat!"

your eyes widened slightlyy as a scoff left his mouth, lips quirking up into a smirk, "nice? you're treating me like a fucking child y/n. i stopped being little years ago. maybe you've been too busy bitching to even notice!"

your heads turned quickly as you heard shuffling from mark's room, his sleepy groans muffled by the thick walls.

"whatever tough guy, i'm leaving, your attitude ruined my appetite."

his arms were quick to stop you, trapping you against the kitchen counter, "where do you think you're going? where's my apology?"

it was your turn to scoff, eyes rolling at his questions. "apology? grow up na jaemin, you're not getting an apology if i did nothing wrong." you pushed at his chest, muscles firm against your hands. when did he get so strong? you mumbled out a low move embarrassed by your lack of strength against him.

he chuckled, breath fanning against your face, "give it one more go baby, maybe this time you might get it."

you bit your lip, head turning to look anywhere besides his bare chest, "this isn't funny, move or i'll-"

"you'll do what y/n?" he licked his lips, smirking down at you.

damn you na jaemin, damn you and those strong muscles, damn you and those plump lips, damn you and this new attitude that is so so hot. you gulped loudly, looking away as you tried to sneakily squeeze your thighs together, heat building between you legs.

"something wrong?"he leaned in closer to you, lips just one breath away. you turned your head further away from him, edge of the counter pressing deep into your back.

"you think being immature is cute jaemin? get off of me!"

he pressed his forehead against the side of your head, breath fanning against your ear. "no-"

he lifted his leg slightly, using his his knee to gently press against your core. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, head lowering just enough to watch his knuckles turn white against the counter. "but you clearly do. been squeezing these pretty thighs together since i started raising my voice at you."

you kept quiet, eyes squeezing shut as his knee pressed further against your heat, "who's the baby now hm?" you ignored him, brain zoning into to light pressure being applied to your clit, only a light hum being your response.

"answer me when i'm talking to you." your eyes fluttered open as he gripped your chin, moving your face so you'd look at him, "m-me jaem."

he tilted his head, smirk growing wider, "what was that?"

you swallowed your pride. there's no way you're gonna miss this opportunity. "i-i'm the baby jaem." he could help but chuckle, leaning in to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, "good girl, you learn quick. now lets put that bratty little mouth to good use."

you sunk onto your knees like your body was possessed, hands coming up to tug at his boxers. his cock sprung free, slapping his toned stomach. he was big, tip flushed and leaking.

his hand was quicker than yours, grabbing onto the base of his length to slap it against your cheek."not so little huh? call me baby again little brat."

"b-bab-" he chuckled as your words came out gargled, his cock being shoved into your mouth to silence you, "you look better with your mouth full." your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing, jaw relaxing slightly.

he was heavy on your tongue, smooth skin rubbing against the sides of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in further. "shit angel, mouth so good, keep doing that."

you bobbed your head against him, spit threatening to spill past your lips. the sight above you was heavenly, pink hair held up with his hands as his mouth hung open. he let out soft pants as he tried his best not to thrust into your mouth. "let me- fuck- let me do it."

his hands moved into your hair to hold your head steady, hips starting to pick up a rhythm. you batted your lashes up at him, soft moans spilling from your mouth as he pressed deeper into your mouth, "look so pretty like this- just wanna-"

you gagged loudly as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. he held you there, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as you swallowed around him.

his groans went straight to your core, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter. he pulled you off in one swift motion, laughing as you gasped for air, eyes watery and lips swollen.

"look at you-" he slapped your face lightly, "acting so grown and can't even take my cock- get up and turn around."

but you remained on your knees, whimpering as you wiped at your mouth. you hadn't noticed you were crying until jaemin leaned down, warms hands rubbing your cheeks, "awe you crybaby, minnie's cock got you all worked up hm?"

you pushed his hands away struggling to get up, legs sore from the kitchen tiles. his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against his chest, "still so stubborn, baby just needs some good dick fucked into her so she'll learn hm?"

he laughed at your weak yelp, his arms lifting you up as he walked towards to living room, "now you're gonna show me how much you need this dick."

he sat on the couch, placing you right on his lap, face to face with you. "go on put it in." your cute pouts did nothing to him as he moved his arms to rest them on the back of the couch, head nodding to urge you to continue.

you whined softly as you hovered your hips over him, hand coming down to push your panties and sleep shorts aside. your cheeks burned as you both looked towards your heat, wetness dripping onto his length. he threw his head back as he let out a soft groan, "fuck baby, what would mark think about me having his big sis dripping all over me hm? like the idea of getting fucked by me that much?"

you nodded quickly shame evaporating from your body as you began to rub his tip along your soaking cunt. he hissed under you, his hands gripping the couch cushions, "don't tease baby, wanna feel you."

you sunk down slightly, hollowly fucking yourself on his tip. your bottom lip was trapped between you teeth, body leaned back as you gripped onto jaemin's thighs. he couldn't help but groan at the sight of you, body covered up by your pjs but your pussy on full display.

he moved his hand to your tummy, fingers slipping under your shirt to pull the fabric over your tits, "fuck, you little minx, look at you dripping on my cock- shit, keep going."

you whined loudly, soft pants leaving your desperate lips as you sunk down on him, the stretch hot against your walls."c-can't jaem, too-"

his hand gripped you breast, rolling your sensitive nipples against his fingers. he pouted up at you, a slight tilt to his head, "can't what baby, hm? minnie's dick to big for my little princess?"

you huffed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as you threw your head back to hide.

"that's okay angel-" his hands traveled down to your hips, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours. the loud slap of your hips vibrated against the living room walls, a soft cry leaving your lips as you leaned forward, stuffing your face into jaemin's neck.

"it's okay-" his hips began to move, your slick making it easy for him to slide against your walls, "you can take it baby see? you're so good for me- fuck"

you whined against his neck, walls tightening around his length as he slapped his hips up. "jaem, jaem, please, oh my- feels so good baby, so deep."

he laughed at your small squeak as he suddenly picked you up, placing you in the corner of the couch, your back pressed against the soft cushion,

"i'm gonna need you to be quiet now okay princess? don't want mark to know how good i'm fucking his big sis hm?"

you nodded quickly, mouth hanging open as he slid back into you without warning, a small moan leaving his lips. "fuck jaem i can't- just please, want it so bad jaem, plea-" your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your loud moans, his hips moving to repeatedly slam into you, his length angled in just the right position.

"fuckkk yes bunny, look at you. pretty pussy sucking me in so good." his pace was relentless, one of your hands having to muffle your moans and the other gripping his arm for stability. you sunk into the couch, cushions bouncing under you from each thrust.

he leaned down close to you, body radiating heat against your chest, "want you to cum baby, i'm so close, so clo- fuck yeah baby just like that, so fucking tight shit."

you squeezed around him your stomach tightening as his words filled your ears. all you could think about was jaemin. his strong arms surrounding you, his warm body enveloping you, his soft moans urging you to cream on him and- oh. he hand flew down to your core, finger pressing gently on your clit, "come on angel, cum for me, wanna feel it, need it baby, please."

you squeezed your eyes shut, teeth clamping around your hand as you arched your hips up. the tight feeling in your stomach radiating throughout you, body shaking as you let go.

he stilled inside you, head pressed into your neck to muffle his own moans as he came inside you, whimpers of your name leaving his lips as he panted against you, "fuck, fuck, fuck, so good, so good for me bunny, you did so good."

he kissed around your neck, lips trailing up onto your lips. the kiss was sweet, soft touch of his lips making your body tingle. his grip was warm against you as he held your trembling body.

"shhh, it's okay, you're okay-" he kissed your cheeks, hands rubbing your sides, "minnie's here baby, i got you, everythings-"

you sunk deeper into the couch as you heard the fridge door slam shut, watching as jaemin's eyes landed on the kitchen entrance, "jaem?" mark's sleepy voice broke the silence, "what are you doing out here?"

jaemin stuttered slightly, pink cheeks still evident against the dim lighting,"i- i was just-" you heard mark take a loud sip of something, clearing his throat after, "if this is about my sister- she's, she's just annoying, all that baby stuff is just her being annoying. you know- sometimes i even kinda feel like she might like you or something."

jaemin bit his lip, only a loud mhm being his response as his now soft length slid out of you, "yeah so, don't let it get to you jaem, get to bed alright?"

jaemin nodded, saying a quick goodnight as mark left his sight. he looked down towards you, a scared look on your face, "so you're into younger guys, huh bunny?"

your giggles filled the small space as you rolled your eyes, hand gently slapping his chest. he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a wide grin on his face, "don't worry, i like bratty older women too."

[cameronsbabydoll]

It starts small.

A new candle on the kitchen counter, something soft and sweet—vanilla and sugar, nothing like the clean, expensive scents Rafe prefers. A set of pastel dish towels, little embroidered flowers along the edges, draped neatly over the oven handle. A delicate ceramic bunny, barely the size of your palm, sitting on the coffee table like it belongs there.

Rafe notices.

He always does.

But he doesn’t say anything—not at first.

It’s just a candle. Just some towels. Just a trinket.

But then it’s a few more.

A new mug in the cabinet, pale pink and covered in tiny hearts, tucked right beside the sleek, matte-black cups he picked himself. A silk robe hanging on the back of your bathroom door, soft and delicate, not something you’d ever wear for him, but something that makes you feel good.

You don’t say anything about it. You just keep doing it.

And it drives him fucking crazy.

Not because of the money—you could drain his entire account on diamond bracelets, and he wouldn’t blink. It’s not about that.

It’s about why.

Because he knows.

He knows the way you go quiet when you’re upset. The way you swallow your anger instead of letting it out. The way you let things fester instead of saying them.

And this? This is your way of saying it.

Not yelling. Not crying.

Just filling the house with your things.

With tiny, delicate, unnecessary things.

With things that are yours, not his.

And when he sees you, standing at the kitchen counter, your fingers tracing idly over the new candle—when he sees the way you actually smile a little, something soft, something real—

He clenches his jaw.

Because for the first time in a long time, he realizes—

You don’t need him to be happy.

[kashverse]

kunafamily lore masterlist ☆ a good place to start reading if you want to fill in some lore gaps! 

competition is important. it builds character. it fosters ambition. it fuels the soul with the sweet, unrelenting drive to win. and for the sukuna household, competition took the form of a daily war—a battle waged between a father and his daughter, where the ultimate prize was the privilege, the honor, the right to wish you good morning first.

sukuna, being the supreme strategist that he was, played it smart. he had an advantage, after all. he woke up early, hit the gym before the sun even thought about rising, and returned home just in time to catch you in the kitchen, where he could saunter up and drop the first morning greeting before his pint-sized opponent even rolled out of bed.

today was no different. he could already see you by the counter, tea in hand, your hair still messy from sleep. perfect. the moment was his.

he smirked. “mornin’, babe—”

then he heard it.

a rumble. deep. foreboding. a sound that struck the soul with a primal sense of dread.

from the hallway emerged the general of the opposition—mr. pickles, in all his aged, majestic, maine coon glory. his fur bristled like a battle-worn lion’s mane, his tail swishing with terrifying precision. and behind him, following in lockstep, was his tiny, formidable apprentice—babykuna, determination burning in her little eyes.

sukuna barely had time to process before he saw it.

baby. airborne.

yes. flung. like a living, breathing projectile, claws extended, hurtling toward his unsuspecting face.

“ABORT—”

too late. impact.

sukuna shrieked, staggering back as baby latched onto him like a rabid gremlin, paws swiping at his face, claws digging into his skin as if enacting some ancient feline vengeance. “you little—get OFF, you hairy demon—”

and amidst the chaos, babykuna, the true mastermind of this operation, elegantly twirled past his flailing form, reached your side, and placed her tiny hands on your arm. “good morning, mama,” she said sweetly, blinking up at you.

you smiled. “good morning, baby.”

victory.

sukuna, meanwhile, was busy peeling baby off his face, muttering curses under his breath. he looked at his daughter, utterly betrayed. “you little snake. you used the damn cat as a weapon.”

babykuna giggled, holding up one tiny finger. “papa zero. me, one.”

mr. pickles sat beside her, victorious, licking a paw with all the smugness of an undefeated war general. competition was important, after all. and sukuna, for all his strength and cunning, had lost.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Stray Kids & Their Favorite Part of Their Chubby Gf's Body ♡

♡ A/N: I wrote this for all of my chubby/plus size/fluffy Stays out there who might be in need of some spicy body worship and a little reminder that you're a fucking baddie worthy of being desired. K, love you, byeee.

♡ Pairing: ot8!stray kids x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 2.2k-ish total

♡ Warnings: reader's plus size sooo obvi descriptions of chubby bodies, body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, a lil manhandling, tit sucking, oral sex (m&f receiving), spanking, and that's all there is, loves.

♡ Bang Chan ♡

Something Chan gets teased about a lot is how he always manages to find an excuse to have you in his arms. If it’s an arm casually thrown around your waist while you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop or a full on bear hug when you’re sitting on his lap at the studio, he craves the comfort of having your body close to his. He does it even more when he’s stressed or has had a particularly long day. Chan will bring you in close, squeezing you tight, giving special attention to the squishing your love handles. You always giggle, telling him not to play with your rolls. You swear you’ll get rid of them one day and Chan gets all grumpy every single time. They’re a part of you. He can’t imagine you without them. Actually, he doesn’t want to. It’s so relaxing to squeeze them when he’s holding you close, letting the annoyances of the day melt away in your presence. Sometimes that’s not enough though and he needs some extra stress relief which you’re always more than pleased to offer him. He finds it super sexy when you choose to take the lead, climbing on top and riding him at a slow sensual pace while his hands are free to roam wherever they wish. Still, they always find their way back to your love handles, gripping them to bounce you in his lap at whatever speed he desires. And when you're dangerously close to your high, making the prettiest noises as you're ready to gush all over his length, he can hold onto them to keep you right where he wants you, totally at his mercy, unable to do anything else besides moan and whine in his grip.

♡ Changbin ♡

Changbin’s the strongest man you know—one glance at those heavenly muscles makes it impossible to question that fact—but even the strongest men have weaknesses and one of his happens to be your thighs. If you ever want to see this man blush all you need to do is show up to one of your dates in a skirt just short enough that he can get a peek at your soft thighs kissing. He’ll barely pay attention to his meal, preoccupied instead with how your thighs rub together when you walk over to the table or how they seem even thicker when you take your seat, the fabric of your skirt riding up as you settle in. Being the gentleman that he is, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you when you’re out in public but once you’re in the car? That’s a different story entirely. It’s one hand on the steering wheel and the other snug between your thighs all the way home. He’ll take his time massaging the plump flesh, occasionally letting his fingers drift up to tease you through your panties. By the time you get home you’ll be soaking wet, desperate for the teasing to come to an end, but Changbin won’t be in a rush. Changbin will press you up against anything—the wall, the couch, the kitchen counter—taking as long as he wants to kiss and lick your thighs until even he can’t take it anymore and he’s tucking your panties aside to taste your juices. There’s truly nothing like the way your thighs shake when his tongue’s inside of you.

♡ Seungmin ♡

Before meeting you stretch marks weren’t something that Seungmin cared about one way or another. He knew that people got them from gaining weight or losing it. It was as simple as that. Of course he knew that there were people who felt insecure about them but it seemed so silly to him that anyone would feel bad about something so insignificant. Meeting you didn’t change that. He still sees no reason to be insecure about them. What did change was his view of them as insignificant. After seeing you naked for the first time he fell in love with them, finding beauty in every single stretch mark on your body. If you’re together and your stretch marks happen to peek out of your clothes he wouldn’t dare tell you to put them away. Instead he’ll take that as an excuse to trace them with his fingertips, following them along the curves of your body. He’s so obsessed that he notices new ones before you do. Not that he’d ever admit that. Seungmin likes to pretend that his fascination isn’t as intense as it is when both of you know the truth. He can play up the indifferent act all he wants but nothing can hide how drawn he is to them. You can literally be riding his face, his eyes too blurred and glossy from being pussy drunk to even see, and his fingers will chart their course right to your stretch marks. It always makes you wetter to be silently praised like that and that’s how Seungmin likes it. You’re so much more delicious when you’re high off of praise.

♡ Hyunjin ♡

To say that Hyunjin’s obsessed with your silhouette would be the understatement of the century. The contours of your body are pure art to him. He could spend all day admiring them. The few times you’ve actually caught him staring are nothing compared to how much he’s actually done it. You don’t even have to be doing anything remotely sexual for this man to get hypnotized. The simple act of you existing in your body is enough to test his impulse control and he fails every single time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, he can’t resist the temptation to feel the warmth of your body beneath his touch. Hyunjin likes to cuddle up behind you, gently pushing your shirt up to let his hand rest against your side for a little bit before his palms are riding the soft hills of your figure. He starts out slow, careful not to wake you, but then you let out those cute, hushed moans in your sleep and it makes him feral. By the time he’s done devouring you with his touch you’re half awake, mindlessly pressing yourself back against his hard cock as he sweetly kisses your neck, his fingers slipping into your panties to feel how wet you’ve gotten without even knowing it. The shape of you is such a beautiful sight to see, especially with all the ways you twist when you’re coming undone around his fingers. And that's never the end of things. How could it be when you always get him so hard and there's so many positions left to put you in?

♡ I.N ♡

If you check Jeongin’s phone he probably has as many pictures of you as he does of himself which is saying a lot for a guy whose job basically requires him to take a million selfies a day. Jeongin treasures the photos he has of the two of you together but his favorites are the ones that are just you so that he can dedicate all of his attention to drooling over how pretty you are. Your face has always been the center of everything for him and he can’t get enough of it. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Don’t even get him started on your cute little chin and your chubby cheeks. If it’s cold out he races to warm your cheeks with his palms. When he kisses you he never misses the opportunity to cup your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips move against yours. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to come out of nowhere, pinching your cheeks and telling you what a cutie you are. It isn’t always about you being cute though. Your face is as seductive as it is adorable and he’d give anything to have your sexier expressions immortalized on his phone. Since that’s just not safe to do—he’d hate to accidentally send that to the group chat—he just has to cherish those moments when he can witness it in real time. It should be illegal to look so good with your lips wrapped around his cock, your cheeks even fluffier all filled up with his cum. Don’t even get him started on what it’s like to see you hit your high. Your face flush with heat, your eyes sparkling with tears, your walls spasming wildly around his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or even your favorite toy. You look like an angel. A sexy little fucked out angel but an angel all the same.

♡ Han ♡

If your body had a fandom, Han's bias would be your boobs. It’s been clear since day one that he’s head over heels for them. You have gorgeous eyes, the prettiest he’s ever seen, but he can’t help how his gaze tends to drift below your neckline to those soft, bouncy breasts resting on your chest. Sometimes he’ll hug you from behind, wrapping his arms around you so that your boobs are propped up by his forearms. Other times he’ll take the not so subtle approach of scooping them into his hands, gently kneading them to feel their weight in his palms. When it’s time to go shopping for bras he’ll be right there, eager to help you pick one out and more than willing to pay for whichever one you want. His favorites are the pretty laced ones that bring your tits together to make for the most succulent cleavage he’s ever seen in his life. As much as he loves a good bra, he’ll take you without one any day of the week. Late nights trapped in studio sessions are always made easier when he knows he’ll stumble through the door of your shared apartment to find you already changed into a pair of his sweatpants and a thin crop top that lets your nipples show through. No matter how exhausted he is, the sight of you innocently skipping around the house without a bra gives him more than enough energy to get you out of that crop top and spend all night French kissing your sensitive nipples. He gets so needy for you, on the verge of whining as his tongue swirls around your bud, his cock straining against his pants. He could cum from this alone without ever having to be inside of you but it’s so much better when he is.

♡ Felix ♡

If you ever want to see Felix get all pouty, say literally anything negative about your belly. He’s super protective of you in general, constantly showering you in reassuring words about your body, but your belly’s the cutest thing in the world to him and there’s no slander allowed. If you’re rocking a dress and he finds out that you’re wearing shapewear or tights to smooth yourself out he’ll for sure find a way around them. Nothing stops your man from squishing his girl’s belly, not even you. It gets to the point that you don’t even bother anymore. You just let your belly take whatever shape it wishes and Felix eats it up every single time. He’s so down bad for it that he holds onto it when he’s going to sleep. Some mornings you even wake up to him dozing away with his head resting on your belly and his arms around your waist. Any attempts to pull him off are useless. He’ll only hold you tighter, grumbling in protest as he nuzzles your shirt up to kiss your bare skin. At this point you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been late to work because Felix got carried away praising you with his lips and the situation escalated to sleepy morning sex that left you pinned beneath him, his name the first thing to leave your lips at the crack of dawn. There's so much about you to enjoy—the slickness of your walls, how hot you sound moaning in his ear—but he always has to steal a few glances of how beautifully your belly jiggles when he bottoms out.

♡ Lee Know ♡

Meeting Minho through mutual friends meant that you’d already heard a lot about him before you started dating. This included the rumors that Minho couldn’t get enough of a nice ass once he saw one. Naturally you laughed off that information, assuming that his friends must’ve been exaggerating for the sake of a joke. As it turns out, they weren’t exaggerating at all. In fact, everything they said would happen has happened. Minho worships every part of you but your ass gets special treatment for sure. If you’re around other people or not, his intrusive thoughts are always winning. It’s like a compulsion. He has to at least pat it or give it a light slap to feel it jiggle. In his defense, you do have an ass beyond worth worshipping. It’s gorgeous in sweatpants, in shorts, in panties, or in nothing at all. That last one’s his preferred option though and he won’t even try to deny it. No matter how delicious your plush ass looks in some lace panties, it’ll never beat the perfection of seeing you without them. And when you let him bend you over to spank you as hard as he wants? This man doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can only keep it together for so long before he’s easing his cock into you to feel how every slap has you trembling, the vibrations traveling through your body while you're just dripping down his length. You're usually a bit sore after but it's totally worth it for something that feels so good. Plus Minho always kisses it better.

[meenaxskz]

when you slightly cut your finger (hyung line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack warnings: minor injury | slight blood | language a/n : I accidentally sliced my finger while cutting a fruit :( so here's me projecting my pain ✧ hyung line | maknae line

ban chan

You're chopping carrots. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling his phone, mumbling something about a new beat. Then it happens. “Ow.” Just a little slip. Barely a nick. You pause “It’s fine.” Chan’s head snaps up “What happened?! Are you hurt ?!” “I said it’s fine-” He’s already at your side “Where?! Show me! Are you bleeding?! How much?! On a scale of 1 to ‘Call Chan’s Mom’...what are we talking??” You hold up your hand. “It’s literally the tiniest cut ever” He gasps. Grabs your hand “that’s blood. That’s blood coming out of your body.” You snort. “Babe, it’s like two drops.” “That’s two too many!!” He grabs a towel and apply pressure “keep breathing, baby. You’re strong. We’re strong. I’ve trained for this.” “Have you?” “I watched five medical dramas, thank you.” He scoops you up and sets you on the kitchen counter “You sit there. No moving. I’ll get the first-aid kit. Don’t go toward the light while I’m gone.” “It’s a scratch” He's already running “SCRATCHES CAN INFECT. WE NEED ANTIBIOTICS. HOLY SHIT DO WE EVEN HAVE BAND-AIDS WITH CUTE DESIGNS???” --- He returns with: -The first-aid kit -A box of Hello Kitty band-aids -A cold compress -And two apples (“In case you faint. Gotta keep your sugar up.”) “...You think I’m gonna faint from this?” “I don’t know your hemoglobin count!” He carefully wraps your finger, biting his lip in concentration “Can you feel your hand?” “Chan.” “Are you dizzy?” “No.” “Are you just saying that to protect me from panicking?” You deadpan: “Yes.” He gasps “OH MY GOD” You laugh. “I’m joking!” Once it’s wrapped, he kisses your forehead, then your nose, then the bandaged finger. “There,” he whispers. “Healed. Mostly. Emotionally, I’ll need time.” You blink. “So dramatic.” He sobs “I almost lost you to a carrot...”

lee know

You gasp. Loud. Dramatic. Oscar worthy. Lee Know turns his head so fast it almost detaches “What?? What happened?!” You hold up your finger “I’m injured.” He squints. Walks over “…Where?” You dramatically spin your finger toward the light. “There!” Minho leans in. “You mean that dot? That mild inconvenience?” “It hurts.” He snorts. “You need a nap and a sticker.” You gasp again. “Wow. So this is how you treat the love of your life? I’m wounded...physically and emotionally!” He crosses his arms. “You just want attention.” “Yeah,” you say flatly. “And a kiss. Right here.” You stick your finger in his face. Minho blinks. “...she cooks one time and now I’m dating a Disney princess with a stabbing injury.” You pout harder. “I might never use this finger again. Think about that. I could drop chopsticks. Tap the wrong emoji. End entire friendships.” “You’re unbelievable.” “I’m bleeding!” “Barely.” Still, he sighs, grabs your hand, and gives the most aggressively reluctant kiss to your fingertip “There. You’ll live.” You blink. Hold up the other hand. “I think this one’s traumatized in solidarity.” He walks away. “Nope.” You chase him. “MINHO I NEED BALANCE OR I’LL WALK IN CIRCLES FOREVER.”

changbin

“Ow!” Changbin, from the other room: “DID YOU DIE?!” “No...just sliced my finger on a strawberry stem.” He appears in the doorway like he teleported. “WHERE. IS. THE WOUND.” You blink. “It’s literally the tiniest-” He’s already in front of you “DON’T TALK. JUST BREATHE. SIT DOWN. DO YOU NEED ICE? WATER ? A NEW FINGER?!” You stare. “It’s a scratch.” He stares harder. “IT’S BLEEDING.” “…A drop.” He yells at the sink. “WHAT DID SHE DO TO YOU, STRAWBERRIES?!” “You’re yelling at fruit.” He’s already digging through the first aid kit. “What size bandage?! Do we need gauze?! Is this a stitches thing?! Do I call Chan?!” You grab a paper towel and press it on your finger, calmly. “Binnie. I’m fine.” He’s pacing now. Flexing with stress. “I train every day for muscle emergencies! not EMOTIONAL ones!” You stick your finger out “Okay, drama queen. Kiss it better.” He freezes half holding your wrist “…You want me to kiss the blood?” You nod. “It’s part of the healing.” He leans closer. Squints at it like it personally offended him “I love you but… what if it tastes like iron?” You squint back. “You bit your lip yesterday and licked it like a popsicle, what’s the difference?” He backs up. “THAT WAS MY BLOOD. MY BODY. MY CHOICE.” --- Eventually, he does it. A single, lightning-fast, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it peck. Then immediately wipes his mouth just as fast. “I DID IT. DO YOU FEEL BETTER? AM I A HERO?!”

hyunjin

“Ow.” Hyunjin, from across the room: “WHAT?!” You hold up your finger. “I cut myself” He sprints over like you just screamed fire. Looks down. Sees the blood. Sees one singular drop. Lets out the most offended gasp “Oh my god. That’s blood. Real blood.” You raise a brow. “I didn’t say I was dying.” You wiggle your hand. “Can you get me a band-aid?” He backs up two steps “I can. But I’ll be applying it as if you are leaking radioactive fluid, just so we’re clear.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve touched my ass with zero hesitation before.” “Your ass doesn’t BLEED” --- Two minutes later he’s back with: -A face mask -Two gloves -Three bandaids He puts gloves on like he’s about to dissect you. You blink. “You’re wearing gloves?” “Yes,” he says, snapping them on. “I’m about to enter surgery.” “It’s a PAPER CUT.” “And yet I’m risking exposure.” He dabs your finger with a tissue. Carefully peels the bandaid, eyes squinting. Gently sticks it on. Then steps back. “Okay. You’ll live. Barely.” You hold your hand up dramatically. “Now kiss it better.” He freezes. Face contorts. Eye twitch. “…You want me to kiss it?” You nod. “Please.” He cringes like you offered him raw chicken. “That’s… bodily fluid.” “It’s MY bodily fluid!” He shudders. “And that’s somehow worse.” You pout. “Wow. So much for romance.” “I’ll kiss you literally anywhere else, babe. Just not your plague finger.” You chase him around the table with your bandaged hand outstretched. He screams. “GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[binhourly]

[230425] — .ᐟ

word count: 1255 | member: lino

“I BLAME you for this,” you say to Hyunjin—or rather, to the kitchen countertop you’ve rested your forehead against—the hangover from last night’s partying making the sun filtering through the window feel like your brain is swelling past your skull.

The freshly buzz-cut boy sharply exhales through his nose, before continuing his reign of terror on your migraine by slamming the cabinet doors shut as hard as possible to grab your attention. “That’s sad,” he starts, waving off your scowl with an equally bratty lip scrunch and a single eyebrow raised. “With how much alcohol you were downing, I thought you’d be cool enough to at least brag about it.”

“No, I can’t,” you tell him, melting instantly at the sight of your favourite Snoopy mug being filled with freshly brewed coffee. So on brand for Hyunjin. One second he’s terrorising you, while simultaneously doing something so tooth-achingly sweet. “What I did yesterday was embarrassing and potentially fatal. And can I say it’s really annoying that I’m like this—" you motion vaguely at yourself—"and you’re just... fine!”

Hyunjin's smile tilts crookedly, leaning forward before splaying his very sleeveless arms out on the kitchen counter. “It’s the protein, baby. I’m so jacked up with it, it basically makes me bulletproof.” He gives you his best alpha-male impersonation, adding the obvious bicep flexing to piss you off further.

Despite your daily hatred for your best friend, Hyunjin still manages to pull the first laugh out of you that morning, before settling back into a peaceful cycle— you sipping your drink, him humming some song he’ll probably file away on his phone with all the other hidden gems.

“Do you even remember what you did after we got home?” the blonde boy questions, his dazed expression practically giving away his lack of paternal instincts last night–assuming that once he got the chance to shove his shoes off, one toe against the heel of the other at the entry door, Hyunjin basically called it quits and let you run wild in the apartment you shared with your other roommates until you tire yourself out. Naturally.

You squint at him, racking your memory folder. “I…” you trail off, snapping your fingers once a cohesive image starts forming behind your eyes. “I went to kiss the cats goodnight.”

“Dude, do you just choose to forget how much Minho hates it when you do that?” Hyunjin argues, never letting his irritation falter as he smooths a hand behind his back to stretch out the bed kinks in his shoulder. “Your lipstick stains their fur. Like, I’m sure it defeats the whole ‘animal cruelty’ aspect of the product.”

This was another reason why no one should ever advocate for a drink to be put in your hands. While alcohol seemed to settle some people, the sour bite of it ripped away every bit of confidence you carried during the day, leaving you flinging head first to affection as proof that people actually wanted you around.

It was partially the reason why you only went out drinking with Hyunjin. The man had been a constant reassurance in your life, so the overwhelming feeling barely crept up on you. Minho was different. He was an extension of Hyunjin (a close friend from his dance crew) which meant it was inevitable that your two worlds would collide, but somehow he never felt inclined to open up the same way Hyunjin could.

And it sucked more than you liked to admit. Soon, with enough accidental run-ins around the living room or squeezed bathroom times in the morning, you found yourself holding onto every small detail about the black-haired man. Until the practice of seeking acceptance wasn’t just a drunk habit—you were already doing it sober.

“But they’re so cute! If they don’t want to be loved, then they shouldn’t be the size of babies — it’s misleading,” you muse, swivelling the kitchen chair around, fingers protruding out in the ready position to coax a cat to come to you.

Right on time, the first cat, Dori, pads into the kitchen, his stomach smothering closer to the ground with clear signs of his future refusal of pick-ups or any form of affection. With his coat obviously dark, there’s no indication of your lipstick marks on him.

Then, a few beats later, Doongie trots in—the obnoxious white patch amongst his layering orange tint still fluffy and perfectly lipstick-free. Odd. Hyunjin rounds the corner, equally confused. “Huh? Maybe Soonie got the short end of the stick.”

You sit up straighter, flicking your gaze towards the long hallway where Minho’s bedroom occupied the first door. Soonie definitely was the victim. You didn’t like to vocalise this often, especially in front of the feline brothers, but he’d always been your favourite. And when the familiar orange-to-white ratio cat appears, you're almost celebratory—until you realise, tail high, strutting in insecure, maybe aware of the many eyes on his newly licked coat—that not a single smear of lipstick is on him either.

Nothing. Clean.

“What the fuck.” Hyunjin’s brows furrow, his increased stress levels making his hands find his hair, running them up and down against the short bristles. “Did you make out with the wall again?”

“No,” you start, smacking his side to shut him up, catching a sliver of skin from his deep-cut muscle tee. “I remember kissing something. It was really soft and it kept moving around—”

The door flings open, and the soft bare feet cushioning the cold floor makes you so flustered it almost stops your heart dead in your chest. “I’m not going to repeat myself again.” His voice is naturally sultry, like his speaking cords are meant to be washed with a glass of champagne rather than gargled water, and the shift wasn’t all the more subtle in the peakest of mornings where it drops so low. “I closed my door on purpose because the cats get hyper at night. I understand you guys were drinking, but fuck, maybe drink enough to abolish your fine motor skills.”

Hyunjin keeps cutting his eyes back and forth between Minho and you, like the answer might magically evolve itself in the space between. But you’re stuck staring at the man who plagued every part of your brain. And if this were a game of Spot the Difference, the version of him you kept tucked away in your mind just got a full rebrand.

The Minho in your head was clean-cut. Every edge is sharp and emotionally unavailable. But Minho standing in front of you now? He looked kissed within an inch of his life.

It starts at his T-zone, the close-knit shape that’s undoubtedly your mouth giving away just how desperate you were in taking him in—some marks deep and damning, others smudged like you’d lost focus halfway, paying close attention to the corners of his lips that were not salvaged in your reckoning. And following along his jawline, there’s a loving beeline down to the curve of his neck, the shape less puckering and more open-mouthed.

You were absolutely mortified. So the softness you recounted was really Minho’s skin, and the animalistic movement was just from Minho shimmying around in his sleep under you.

An incomprehensible noise escapes Hyunjin this time, which could best be categorised as something between a yell and a manic laugh. Either way, it’s obnoxious enough to yield Minho to stare at the wall mirror beside him, catching what was on the other end of the buzz-cut boy’s pointed finger.

“Oh… so, not a cat.”

[ note: ] wrote this under 10 minutes after being inspired by this meme. please know lino is unravelling lowkey in the best ways, he's just awkward with feelings.

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

-

The job comes at the exact right time. 

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go. 

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself. 

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender. 

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours. 

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave. 

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice. 

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss. 

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic. 

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss. 

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost. 

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest. 

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile. 

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation. 

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.” 

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[faebled-stories]

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

[lovelivision]

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.  

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[meadowfics]

cherry cola

oldersistersboyfriend!thanos x f!reader

nothing felt as sweet as your older sister's boyfriend

warnings: MDNI!! smut! 18+. pinv unprotected, oral (thanos receiving), very vulgar dialogue, cheating, praise kink, degradation, squirting, comparisons, breeding kink. this fic is foul but who said thanos had morals anyways

you’re standing in the kitchen, the hum of the fridge the only sound cutting through the late-night stillness. moonlight spills through the window, casting soft shadows across the tiles. it is midnight, and your oversized long-sleeve top hangs loose, brushing the tops of your thighs, the red gingham cheeky shorts barely peeking out from under it. 

you’re not expecting anyone tonight since your sister’s asleep upstairs, and thanos, her boyfriend, is crashing on the couch since they got into an argument earlier. 

the thing is that you've felt his eyes on you for months now. thanos or su-bong, as your sister calls him…has this way of lingering when you’re around. the rapper’s gaze sticks to you like humidity, heavy and undeniable. 

it’s wrong, you know it is. 

you’ve always found him magnetic with his purple hair catching light like some kind of neon dream, those colorful nails tapping against whatever he’s holding, always drawing your attention. 

when your sister claimed him, you buried that spark deep, told yourself it was nothing. it is just a fleeting thought except it never really went away.

the floor creaks behind you, and you freeze, fingers curled around the handle of the fridge door. you don’t need to turn to know it’s him. the air shifts, thickens, like the moment before a storm breaks. you hear his slow, deliberate steps, the faint jingle of the chain he always wears brushing against his belt. 

you turn, and there he is, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. thano’s lips curl into something halfway between a smirk and a challenge.

“couldn’t sleep?” his voice is low, rough, like he’s been awake too long. the man’s eyes dip, taking in your bare legs, the way the shirt slips off one shoulder. 

you feel exposed, but you don’t move to cover yourself.

“just thirsty,” you say, keeping your tone even, though your pulse betrays you, hammering in your throat. you grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water, anything to keep your hands busy. 

he doesn’t move, just watches, his nails…bright purple and blue tonight…glinting under the dim kitchen light.

“you look good,” he says, and it’s so casual, so blatant, it almost knocks the breath out of you. 

“s’ that your boyfriend’s shirt?”

you laugh, short and sharp. 

“no boyfriend.” you take a sip of a cherry cola soda, the glass cold against your lips, “you know that.”

thano’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, just enough that you can smell the faint cedar of his cologne, mixed with something sharper, like smoke. 

“yeah, i know.” his voice drops lower, conspiratorial, “i bet you got guys lined up, though looking like that.”

you roll your eyes, but heat creeps up your neck, “don’t start, thanos.”

“su-bong,” he corrects, mocking, like he knows the name doesn’t suit him. he’s closer now, close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. 

“what? i’m just saying. you’re making it real hard to act right, walking around like that.”

your stomach twists, a mix of guilt and something darker, something that makes your thighs press together under the hem of your shirt. 

“my sister’s upstairs,” you say, but it sounds weak, like you’re trying to convince yourself.

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing, like he’s sizing you up. 

“she’s out cold. you know how she sleeps.” he pauses, letting the words hang. 

“besides, you’ve been looking at me too. don’t lie now.”

you swallow, caught. you want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the truth sits heavy between you. you’ve noticed him…how his hands move when he talks, how his laugh feels like it could unravel you. 

you’ve tried not to, but it’s there, undeniable, every time he’s around.

“you’re an asshole,” you mutter, setting the glass of soda down harder than you mean to. the sound echoes in the quiet.

he laughs, low and throaty, and steps closer still, until he’s right in front of you, his boots brushing the tiles by your bare feet. 

“maybe. but you like it.” his hand lifts, slow, deliberate, and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin. you flinch, but you don’t pull away. 

“always have, haven’t you?”

your breath hitches, and you hate how obvious it is, how he can probably hear it. 

“you’re with her,” you say, but it’s barely a whisper now, more plea than protest.

“and yet here you are,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re dark, hungry, and you feel like you’re drowning in them. 

“you’re not stopping me.”

you should. 

you know you should but his touch is electric, and that spark you buried is roaring to life, burning through every rational thought. he leans in, close enough that his breath fans over your lips, and you’re trembling, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to close the gap.

“tell me to stop,” he says, but it’s not a request…it’s a dare. 

su-bong’s hand slides down, resting at the curve of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse, “say it, and i’ll walk away right now.”

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. your silence is louder than any words could be.

thano’s lips crash into yours, and it’s not gentle. it’s raw, desperate, like he’s been holding back as long as you have. you kiss him back, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as guilt claws at the edges of your mind. 

the man’s tongue slides against yours, and you moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his heat. he tastes like mint and some type of cherry medicine, and you’re already lost in it.

he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours. 

“fuck, you’re sweet,” he growls, voice thick with want, “i‘ve been thinking about this too long.”

the rapper’s hands are everywhere…sliding under your shirt, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. you can feel him, hard and straining against his joggers, and it sends a jolt through you, straight to your core. 

you’re wet already, embarrassingly so, and he hasn’t even touched you there yet.

“thanos,” you gasp, as his mouth moves to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. your sister’s face flashes in your mind, and you try to pull back, but his grip tightens, keeping you close.

“don’t,” he says, teeth grazing your skin. 

“don’t fucking think about her. think about me.” his hand slips between your thighs, cupping you through your shorts, and you whimper, legs shaking. 

“shit, haha.. you’re soaked. you want this as bad as i do!”

he’s right, and you hate it. you hate how much you want him, how your body’s betraying you, arching into his touch. he pushes your shorts aside, fingers finding you bare, and he groans, low and filthy. 

“no panties? you’re killing me.”

thano’s fingers slide through your slickness, teasing, circling your clit just enough to make you buck against him. 

“look at you,” he says, voice dripping with condescension, “such a good little slut, dripping for me.” the word hits you like a slap, but it only makes you want him more, and he knows it.

he pulls his hand away, and you whine at the loss, but then he’s undoing the tie on his joggers, the sound of his pants dropping is loud in the quiet kitchen. 

“on your knees,” he says, and it’s not a request. you hesitate, just for a second, and he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, “now.”

you sink to the floor, the tiles cold against your skin. he’s already freeing himself, and when you see him…thick, hard, leaking at the tip…your mouth waters despite yourself. you shouldn’t want this and shouldn’t want him, but you do. 

you lean forward, licking the head, tasting salt and heat, and he hisses, fingers tangling in your hair.

“fuck, that’s it,” he groans, guiding you closer, “suck me like you’ve been wanting to.”

you take him deeper, lips stretching around him, tongue swirling as you work him. he’s vocal, muttering curses, praising you in that rough, vulgar way that makes your thighs clench. 

“good girl,” he says, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. 

“you’re so fucking good fuck you are better than her, you know that?”

the comparison stings, but it also sends a twisted thrill through you. you moan around him, and he laughs, dark and cruel. 

“you like that, huh? knowing you’re better? shit, your mouth’s perfect.”

he’s rougher now, fucking your throat, and you let him, tears pricking your eyes as you gag but don’t pull away. you want to please him, want to hear more of that praise, even if it’s laced with venom. 

when he pulls out, your lips are swollen, spit dripping down your chin, and he looks at you like you’re a masterpiece.

“up,” he says, yanking you to your feet. he spins you around, bending you over the counter, and you brace yourself, palms flat against the cool surface. he doesn’t bother pulling your shorts down since he just shoves them aside, lining himself up. 

“you ready for me?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer, just pushes in, slow and deep.

you cry out, the stretch almost too much, but it feels so good, so right, that you can’t stop the way your hips rock back against him. he’s relentless, setting a brutal pace, one hand gripping your hip, the other reaching around to rub your clit. 

“fuck, your pussy’s so soaked,” he growls, “so much better than hers. fuck! you’re fucking made for me.”

the words are wrong, so wrong, but they light you up, make you clench around him. he feels it, and he laughs, slapping your ass hard enough to sting.

 “you love that, don’t you? love being my dirty little whore.”

“yes,” you gasp, too far gone to care, “please, thanos—”

“its su-bong to you,” he snaps, but there’s a grin in his voice. he slaps you again, harder, and you moan, loud enough that you’re scared it’ll wake her. 

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, just keeps fucking you like he owns you.

“gonna fill you up,” he says, and his thrusts get sloppier, more desperate. 

“‘m gonna breed this perfect pussy, make you mine. you want that, don’t you?”

you nod, frantic, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure builds, overwhelming. 

“yes, yes, please—”

he groans, loud and guttural, and you feel him spill inside you, hot and endless. 

fortunately, thanos keeps going. he slams into you with a punishing rhythm, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body as he pushes himself to overstimualtion, building a pressure so intense it feels like you’re about to break. 

you’re gripping the counter, knuckles turning lighter than your skin tone, trying to hold back the overwhelming surge you feel coming, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep it together. 

he notices, his eyes narrowing as he catches the way you’re clenching around his cock, trying to stifle what’s inevitable. 

“don’t fucking do that,” he growls, voice rough with command, “let it fucking go.” his colorful nails dig into your hips, grounding you as he angles deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and you can’t hold it anymore.

with one more brutal thrust, you shatter, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you squirt, the release gushing hot and wild, soaking his dick as he keeps moving, slick and relentless. it doesn’t stop there since it gets on the kitchen floor, pooling on the tiles in a glistening mess that catches the refrigerator light.

your legs shake, barely holding you up as the intensity leaves you gasping, your body still pulsing around him while he groans, clearly reveling in the chaos you’ve made, his cock drenched in you, the evidence of how good he is dripping everywhere.

he stays with your for a few minutes after, buried deep, catching his breath. you sister could’ve walked down and seen everything but she did not. when thanos finally pulls out, you feel the mess of him dripping down your thighs.

su-bong turns you around, kisses you again, softer this time, but still possessive. 

“you’re mine now,” he says, and it’s not a question.

you don’t answer but as he walks away, leaving you trembling against the counter, you know he’s right.

masterlist

[paymechildsupport]

"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸

@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3

-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror

-!! Very brief size kink 

Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis  

▷ —--------------------

▷ —--------------------

▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)

“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room

“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad? 

“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be. 

Oh dear. 

The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone. 

He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover. 

“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat”   – Well, it was a little late for that. 

“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end, 

“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–” 

“Discharged. Threat neutralized.” 

Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted. 

“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place. 

“Francis” just stares.

-

“You’re a doppelgänger , right?” 

“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow

“Alrighty then, prove it.” 

Unzips. 

—-------------

“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human). 

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband. 

Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest. 

“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten. 

“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock. 

You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger  even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high. 

“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat. 

You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock. 

“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled. 

He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip. 

He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself. 

Such a greedy little creature. 

… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this. 

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(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)

I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏