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szariahwroteit · 2 days ago

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Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 11

“Sorry,” Giselle murmured, her lips curving into a smirk against the column of Kylian’s throat as she kissed over a rather obnoxious bruise she had left behind during one of their previous encounters.

Kylian chuckled softly, a warm, low sound reverberating through his chest. “I’m sure you are,” he teased, tilting his head back to give her better access. The heat of her breath against his skin sent shivers racing down his spine, a reminder of their night together.

Giselle pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness. “I'm going to miss you,” she whispered, placing her hand on the back of his head so she could pull him in closer. Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss that ignited a rush of heat between them. The taste of him was intoxicating. Her hands slid down to his shoulders, fingers digging in gently as if anchoring herself to him, to the moment.

Kylian responded, his hands finding their place on her waist, pulling her flush against him, leaving just the two of them wrapped in this sultry cocoon that only they understood. Every kiss unraveled another layer of tension, each caress igniting memories of the night before—fingers intertwined, breathless gasps, the desperate need that had overtaken them both.

“Are you ready to go?” Kylian asked, his voice low as he gently pulled away from her lips. His gaze lingered over her, admiring how the black asymmetrical dress hugged her figure, enhancing the graceful curve of her waist and flowing elegantly down one side. It was the perfect choice for her final evening in Madrid, and as he looked into her eyes, he could sense a mix of excitement and melancholy in the air.

Giselle sighed softly, her heart fluttering at the weight of his gaze. “I suppose I have to be,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of leaving Madrid, of leaving him, felt like a bittersweet ache in her chest.

“Let’s make it a night to remember, then,” Kylian said, a playful grin spreading across his face. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as he led her toward the door. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t help but smile back, her earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.

It was quiet as they stepped out of Kylian's house, and despite the evening chill, there was a stillness in the air that whispered spring.

Giselle was careful on her heels as Kylian led her down the cobbled path towards his car, pulling open the door so she could slip inside. As she settled into the plush leather seat, Kylian's lingering warmth seemed to follow her, wrapping around her like a protective aura. He slid in beside her, the door shutting with a soft click that felt final, but also full of promise.

As he navigated through the streets of Madrid, the city lights flickered like stars against the velvet backdrop of night. Giselle stole glances at him, capturing fleeting moments, from the way his jaw tightened in concentration to the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he recounted tales of their days spent together hidden away in the beautiful city.

“Do I get to know where you're taking me, or are you going to keep me guessing until we get there?” Giselle asked, her voice playful, laced with curiosity.

Kylian shot her a sideways glance, a smirk returning to his lips. "Dinner." He answered simply, not giving anything away as his fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel.

“Dinner? How vague,” she teased, a playful pout forming on her lips as she tried to guess what sort of place he had in mind. Giselle leaned toward him slightly, their knees brushing together, a spark of electricity igniting from the contact.

Kylian chuckled, enjoying the anticipation that danced in the air between them. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” His voice dripped with mischief, his dark eyes glinting as he shifted gears.

“Fine, I’ll play along,” she replied, settling back in her seat and crossing her arms in mock annoyance. But inside, her heart raced with excitement. Each moment spent with him felt like a secret shared, a little piece of magic they held alone.

As they passed through the vibrant streets, Giselle's mind wandered back to their earlier rendezvous—how they had laughed, seduced, and surrendered to each other's touch until dawn had crept in, wrapping them in golden light. She relished the memory of his fingertips trailing down her back, the warmth of his breath as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Kylian asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he caught her lost gaze in the glass.

“Just thinking,” she said softly, the weight of her words sinking into the air around them.

The seriousness in her tone sliced through the playful atmosphere, causing Kylian to glance away from the road, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. “We’ll have time again,” he assured her, his voice steady, though the sincerity in his eyes also betrayed a hint of longing.

The tension in the car was short-lived. Giselle looked out the window to find they were at the Santiago Bernabeu. “What are we doing here?” she asked in confusion. The atmosphere was still and serene, a complete contrast from a match day.

“Do you trust me?” he questioned, turning his head to glance at her before turning his car into the same parking lot Melissa had parked her car when they'd gone to his game.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

Kylian smiled at her response, a look of satisfaction crossing his features. “Good,” he said, parking the car and shutting off the engine. “Come on, let’s explore a little.”

He exited the vehicle with an easy grace, and Giselle followed suit, her curiosity piqued. As she stepped out, the cool night air embraced her, contrasting sharply with the warmth they shared moments before. The massive structure of the stadium loomed ahead, illuminated under the glow of night lights. It felt magical, as if it held countless secrets within its walls—stories of passion, ambition, and victory.

“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing up at him for guidance. There was a spark of excitement in his eyes that mirrored her own.

“Just follow me,” he replied, retaking her hand. Together, they strolled towards the entrance. The silence of the parking lot was thick with anticipation, and with each step, Giselle wondered where this night would lead.

As they approached the stadium, Kylian reached into his pocket and produced a pair of access cards. “I arranged something special,” he said with a wink, and her heart fluttered at the thought of what lay ahead.

“Special like how?” she pressed, trying to contain her intrigue.

“Just trust me,” he reiterated, a playful glint in his eye.

They slipped through a side entrance, and the sound of their footsteps echoed softly in the empty halls. The dimly lit corridors were adorned with photos of legendary players and moments that defined the beautiful game. Kylian led her deeper into the stadium's heart, the ambiance charged with an electric blend of nostalgia and anticipation.

Finally, they emerged onto the pristine pitch, the vast grass stretching out before them under the moonlight. Giselle gasped, stepping forward in awe. It was surreal to stand where champions had battled; the world fell away, leaving just the two of them.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the view. “This is incredible.”

Kylian chuckled, watching her face light up with wonder. “I thought you’d like it,” he said, moving closer to her. “I wanted to share this moment with you.”

Giselle turned to face him, her heart swelling with affection. The intimacy of the moment, set against the backdrop of the grand stadium, filled her with warmth. “It’s perfect,” she admitted, her voice soft and sincere.

As if sensing the gravity of the moment, Kylian stepped forward, his presence enveloping her. “There’s more,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the center of the pitch. The grass felt cool beneath her feet, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body so close beside her.

“What do you mean?” Giselle asked, her curiosity piqued even further.

“Just wait,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes as he took Giselle's hand, leading her off the pitch and onto his second reveal of the evening.

Kylian led her along the all-too-familiar route to the stadium's VIP box, which he had taken the liberty of transforming into a restaurant for the night.

Giselle was in awe as he led her into the room to reveal a candlelit dinner set for two, surrounded by glass walls that provided a stunning view of the pitch. The table was elegantly decorated with delicate flowers and flickering candles, casting a warm glow that softened the surroundings, making the room feel even more intimate.

“Wow, Kylian,” Giselle said, her eyes sparkling with astonishment. “You did all this?”

He nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “I wanted our last night to be unforgettable.” He gestured for her to take a seat, and as she did, the weight of the world outside melted away. It was just the two of them, cocooned in their own little paradise high above the stadium.

As they settled in, Kylian poured champagne into crystal flutes, the bubbles rising like tiny fireworks. “To us,” he toasted, raising his glass.

“To us,” Giselle echoed, clinking her glass against his. The richness of the champagne filled her senses, and she couldn’t help but relish the moment—here they were, an ordinary evening transformed into something magical.

They enjoyed a delightful meal, the conversation effortlessly flowing as they swapped stories and laughed like old friends. But beneath the surface, each shared glance and each playful touch hinted at the undeniable chemistry that sizzled between them.

At one point, Kylian reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against Giselle’s. “Have you enjoyed your time here?” he asked, his gaze intense and tender.

Giselle nodded, her pulse quickening. “I have. Thank you so much for having me.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Kylian smirked as he raised his glass up to his lips. “Thank you for coming.”

Despite the reason she’d ended up with him in Madrid, the past week tucked away in his house felt like a dream—quiet and solitudinous days, followed by hot and heavy nights with him.

Giselle felt her cheeks warm at the memory. “You made it unforgettable,” she admitted, smiling softly. “It’s hard to believe it’s just been a week.”

Kylian chuckled, his eyes bright with mischief. “Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?”

“Fun is an understatement,” she replied, her voice teasing.

He leaned forward, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I don’t regret a single moment,” he said, his voice low and sincere. The weight of his gaze held her captive, and she felt an undeniable pull toward him, like gravity was working in their favor.

“Me neither,” Giselle murmured, her heart racing. The air around them thickened, transforming the gentle ambiance into something charged with longing. She could see the flicker of desire in his eyes, and it mirrored her own.

“Come here,” Kylian whispered, his voice laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. He stood, rounded the table, and gently took her hands, guiding her to her feet and sitting down so he could pull her onto his lap.

Giselle's heart raced as she settled onto his lap, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. She could feel his heartbeat thudding beneath her palms, echoing her own rhythm. The closeness stirred something deep within her, a longing that had been building since the moment they met.

Kylian's hands rested on her waist, fingers splayed as he drew her closer. “I’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “About us.”

“What about us?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. A mix of excitement and trepidation filled her senses.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “About how this week has changed everything,” he replied, his voice low and serious. “I didn’t expect to feel this way about you.”

Giselle's breath caught in her throat. The weight of his words hung in the air, and she felt her heart flutter in response. “I didn’t either,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing as she searched his eyes for reassurance.

Kylian leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her cheek before finding the corner of her mouth. “I want to explore this… whatever this is,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I know we’re from different worlds, but I think we owe it to ourselves to see where it leads.”

Giselle’s heart swelled with a mix of hope and fear. “You’re right,” she said softly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. “I want to see where this goes too.”

A smile broke across Kylian’s face, lighting up his features. It was a smile that promised adventure, passion, and possibility. He leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and electric, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between them all week.

The kiss deepened, and Giselle melted against him, feeling safe and cherished. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the moment as they poured every unspoken feeling into that single connection.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Kylian rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your world,” Giselle searched his eyes, her voice soft and earnest.

Kylian didn't have any words to offer at that moment. Instead, he leaned into her, pressing a kiss to her lips as his hand ran up her bare thigh.

The simple touch sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body, igniting every nerve ending as he explored her skin. Giselle could feel his fingers trailing closer to the hem of her dress, teasing her with the promise of what was to come—the thrill of desire coiled tightly around them, pulling them into a world where only they existed.

“Kylian,” she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation. “What if someone catches us?”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her. “Are you ready to go?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. Giselle felt a rush of exhilaration wash over her, the thrill of living on the edge making her pulse race. Her gaze met Kylian's, and she could see he was equally consumed by the moment—a heady mix of mischief and desire swirling between them.

“I want you,” Giselle whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. The admission spilled from her lips like a secret she could no longer contain, anchoring her resolve to this man who had turned her world upside down in just a week.

Kylian responded with a low growl, the sound resonating deep within him. His hands gripped her waist, his thumbs caressing her skin just above the hem of her dress. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmured, capturing her lips again with a fierce hunger.

Giselle melted against him, feeling every part of her body awaken in response to his kiss. One of his hands tangled in her hair, holding her captive, while the other roamed, exploring the curves of her body as if mapping out every inch.

She wasn’t sure how it happened, but in an instant, they were on their feet, intertwined and moving closer to the glass walls that framed the vast expanse of the pitch. The idea of getting caught sunk deeper into her mind, adding an intoxicating thrill to their desperate kisses.

Her back pressed against the cold glass, but the chill was quickly evaporated by the warmth of Kylian’s body pressed against hers.

Kylian let out a lustful growl as he peeled himself from Giselle; he knew that if they didn't stop, they might end up in a situation that, as public figures, neither of them needed. As thrilling as the idea of having sex in his home stadium sounded, he knew better. They both did.

Kylian took a step back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. Giselle looked equally affected, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from their passionate kisses. The air between them crackled with unfulfilled desire, but Kylian knew they needed to slow down.

"We should probably head back," he said, his voice husky with restraint. "Before things get out of hand."

Giselle nodded, swallowing hard as she smoothed down her dress. "You're right," she agreed, though her eyes betrayed a hint of disappointment.

“Take off your thong,” Kylian whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that sent a thrill coursing through her body.

Giselle's breath hitched, eyes widening in surprise. The boldness of his command sent a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. "Here?" she asked, incredulity swirling with desire.

Kylian's gaze was intense and unwavering as he stepped closer again, reclaiming the space between them and filling it with smoldering tension. "Give them to me. I have plans for you once we get back to the car.”

Giselle's heart raced as she glanced around, ensuring they were indeed alone in the VIP box. With trembling fingers, she reached beneath her dress and slowly slid her thong down her legs, stepping out of it and handing it to Kylian with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

He took the delicate fabric, brought it to his nose, and inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored her scent. A smirk played on his lips as he tucked the thong into his pocket, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice low and husky. "All mine."

Giselle shivered at the possessive tone, a thrill running down her spine. She couldn't deny the rush of excitement that came with his words, the knowledge that he had claimed her so thoroughly.

Kylian took her hand, leading her out of the VIP box and back through the stadium corridors.

As they emerged into the cool parking garage, Kylian's car was the only one. He opened the passenger door for Giselle, helping her inside before rounding the vehicle to the driver's side. The moment he slid into the seat, the atmosphere shifted, charged with unspoken desires and the promise of what was to come.

Kylian started the engine, the low purr filling the silence between them. He glanced over at Giselle, his eyes dark with intent. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Giselle's breath caught in her throat, but she obeyed, parting her thighs beneath the hem of her dress. The cool air kissed her bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within her.

Kylian reached into his pocket, pulling out her discarded thong. He brought it to her face, trailing the fabric along her jawline and down her neck.

"Play with yourself," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Giselle's heart raced as she stared at the thong dangling from Kylian's fingers, her mind reeling at his command. The fabric brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She hesitated for a moment, the boldness of his request sending a surge of excitement and apprehension through her.

Slowly, she reached beneath her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as they made contact with her bare flesh. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation as she began to touch herself, circling her most sensitive spot with gentle strokes.

“Show me your pussy,” Kylian watched her intently, his gaze burning with desire as he took in the sight of her pleasuring herself as he started the car, and the engine roared to life.

Giselle's eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her bare thighs and the glistening folds of her pussy. The cool air against her exposed skin sent a shiver through her, intensifying the sensation of her own fingers moving in gentle circles.

Kylian's eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He kept one hand on the wheel, guiding the car through the Madrid streets, while the other reached out to brush his knuckles against Giselle's inner thigh. The touch was featherlight, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her.

Giselle gasped, her hips arching slightly into his touch. She continued to pleasure herself, her movements becoming more urgent as the tension built within her.

Kylian's knuckles brushed against Giselle's wet folds, and he couldn't resist the urge to slide a finger inside her. She was so tight, so warm, and the sound of her moan filled the car, spurring him on. He pumped his finger slowly, matching the rhythm of her own touches.

"Kylian," Giselle breathed, her head falling back against the headrest as she rode the waves of pleasure. The combination of her own touch and his invading finger was overwhelming, pushing her closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze my finger."

His words, combined with the skillful movements of his hand, sent Giselle over the precipice. She cried out, her body convulsing as a powerful orgasm washed over her. Her inner walls clenched around his finger, pulsing with release.

Giselle barely made it into Kylian’s house before he was on her, her dress and heels left discarded in the entryway, where he’d feasted on her until her clit was swollen and her body trembled before carrying her up to his bedroom.

Giselle's eyes rolled shut, and her mind went blank as Kylian moved within her, his thrusts hard and incredibly deep as he pinned her legs to the bed.

A chill ran the length of her spine as she felt Kylian’s tongue on her, licking his way from between her breasts over her throat and to her chin before he stole her breath with a feverish kiss.

The thick head of Kylian’s cock pressed Giselle's cervix as he swallowed her moans, his eyes closed in pure unadulterated pleasure as he rolled his hips into her. The bed sang under the pressure of his thrust as a single tear slipped from Giselle's eye.

Kylian's eyes snapped open, his pupils dilated with desire as he watched a tear roll down Giselle's cheek. He slowed his pace, concern etched on his face.

“Shh, baby, I've got you,” he murmured, his voice husky with need. “Is it too much? Tell me if I'm hurting you.” His hand came up to gently wipe away the tear, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I want to make you feel good, Giselle.”

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses along her jawline and neck, his hips still moving in slow, deep thrusts.

“Please don't stop,” Giselle whimpered, tilting her hips into Kylian’s thrust. She wanted everything, including the dull discomfort that only made way for an inexplicable pleasure. “I want to get on top.”

Kylian's eyes flashed with desire at Giselle's words, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He pulled out slowly, eliciting a gasp from Giselle before flipping them over so she was straddling him. “Ride me,” he instructed.

"Like this?" Giselle asked, biting her lip as she looked down at him, her hands resting on his chest. She slowly lowered herself onto his length, a soft moan escaping her lips as he filled her completely.

"That's it," Kylian praised, his hands gripping her hips. "Show me what you want."

Giselle began to move, lifting herself up before sliding back down, finding a rhythm that made them both moan. Kylian's eyes were locked onto her, taking in every curve and movement, his hands guiding her hips.

"You look so fucking beautiful like this," he growled, sitting up suddenly to capture one of her nipples in his mouth.

Giselle gasped as Kylian sat up, his mouth enveloping her nipple and sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

“Slow,” Kylian guided, his hands slid down to grip her ass. “Take your time and feel me.”

Kylian's hands gripped Giselle's hips tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he guided her movements. He watched with hooded eyes as she rode him slowly, savoring every inch of his hard cock, sliding in and out of her.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. "So tight and wet."

Giselle's hands slid up his chest, her nails raking lightly over his skin. She leaned down, pressing her forehead against his as she continued to move on top of him.

"You're so deep," she gasped, her breath coming in short pants. "I can feel you everywhere."

Kylian's hands slid up her back, pulling her closer to him. He captured her lips in a heated kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as he began to thrust up into her from below.

"Harder," Giselle pleaded, breaking the kiss to bury her face in the crook of Kylian's neck. "Please, Kylian."

Kylian's grip on her hips tightened, and he began to thrust up into her with more force, his hips snapping against hers. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their moans and gasps.

"Yes, just like that," Giselle cried out, her nails digging into Kylian's shoulders. "Don't stop."

Kylian's hands slid down to grip her ass, spreading her cheeks apart as he pounded into her. He could feel her tightening around him, her body tensing as she approached her climax.

"Fuck, you're so deep," Giselle gasped, her nails digging into Kylian's shoulders as she felt him hit that perfect spot inside her. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum!"

"That's it, do it for me," Kylian growled, his hips snapping up into hers with increasing urgency. "Let me feel you."

He reached between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The added stimulation was enough to push Giselle over the edge, her body convulsing with pleasure as she cried out his name.

"Yes, yes, YES!" she screamed, her head thrown back in ecstasy as her orgasm crashed over her. "Kylian!"

When Giselle's orgasm passed, Kylian laid her back on the bed, crawling on top of her as he reached for a pillow, pushing it beneath her and raising her hips slightly.

Kylian's eyes flashed with a primal hunger as he positioned himself between Giselle's legs, the pillow elevating her hips to the perfect angle. He grabbed her thighs, spreading them wider as he looked down at her glistening pussy, swollen and sensitive from her recent orgasm.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So open, so vulnerable."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before trailing his lips up to her core. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, savoring the sweetness of her arousal.

"Kylian," Giselle gasped, her hands flying to his hair as he licked a slow stripe up her slit. "What are you doing?"

"Worshipping you," he replied, his breath hot against her skin. "Making you feel good."

He sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently as he slid two fingers inside her.

Kylian's fingers pumped in and out of Giselle's pussy, curling to hit that sweet spot inside her as his tongue worked her clit. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against her flesh, his voice vibrating through her. "Let me hear you."

Giselle's moans grew louder, her hips bucking against his face as he drove her closer to the edge. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him in place as she chased her release.

"Kylian, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum again!" she cried out, her body tensing as her orgasm washed over her.

Kylian didn't let up, his fingers and tongue working her through the waves of pleasure until she was a trembling, satisfied mess beneath him.

Kylian flipped Giselle onto her stomach, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her up onto her knees. He positioned himself behind her, his hard length pressing against her entrance.

"This little pussy was made for me," he drawled, his voice low and husky with desire. "Even when you are away, it's mine."

Kylian hissed as he spread Giselle open, her pussy swollen and incredibly wet as the tip of his cock ghosted against her.

“Donne-toi à moi,” he groaned, a deep moan ripping from his throat as he leaned forward, giving her his entire cock in one swift motion before stilling.

Kylian's eyes darkened with lust as he felt Giselle's tight heat envelop him completely. He gripped her hips tightly, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside her.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he groaned, his hips twitching slightly as he fought the urge to move. “I love how you take my cock so perfectly.”

He leaned forward, pressing his chest against Giselle's back as he reached around to circle her clit with his fingers. “This pussy belongs to me, understand? I'm going to fill you up so fucking deep, you'll be feeling me for days.”

Kylian began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts as he stimulated Giselle's clit. He could feel her walls fluttering around him, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

“You like that, don't you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Yes,” Giselle moaned, her back arching away from Kylian as she felt a bead of her arousal drip down the inside of her thigh.

Kylian's fingers continued their relentless assault on Giselle's clit as he drove into her from behind, his hips slapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room, mingling with their moans and gasps.

"That's it, baby," Kylian encouraged, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take my cock."

His free hand slid up Giselle's back, gripping her shoulder as he pulled her back onto him, burying himself even deeper.

"Yes, yes, YES!" Giselle screamed, her fingers digging into the sheets as she came undone beneath him. "Kylian!"

Kylian's grip on her tightened, his hips snapping forward as he chased his own release.

Kylian's hips stuttered, his fingers digging into Giselle's hips as he buried himself balls deep inside her, his orgasm crashing over him. "Fuck, Giselle!" he groaned, his hot cum filling her in pulses.

He collapsed onto her back, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. After a moment, he rolled them onto their sides, spooning her from behind as he gently kissed her shoulder.

"Perfect," he murmured, his hand resting possessively on her hip.

Giselle smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "You're not so bad yourself," she teased, turning her head to press a kiss to his jaw as she felt herself overcome with emotion.

Kylian chuckled, his arms tightening around her. "Not so bad? I have to work on that."

He rolled her onto her back, hovering over her with a mischievous grin that faltered as he noticed the look on her face, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

Kylian's expression softened, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down Giselle's cheek. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked gently, concern etched on his face. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry if I was too rough."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "Talk to me, Giselle. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

Kylian's heart ached at the sight of Giselle's tears, his protective instincts kicking in. He wanted nothing more than to take away her pain, to make her feel safe and loved.

"I just... I don't know," Giselle sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I guess I'm just feeling overwhelmed. This thing between us, it's so intense. I'm going home tomorrow, and I didn't expect to feel this way."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his.

Kylian listened attentively, his heart swelling with affection for Giselle. He understood the overwhelming nature of their connection, as it was something he had never experienced before either.

"It's okay," he murmured, his fingers gently brushing through her hair. "I feel it, too."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, pouring all his emotions into the gentle touch. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you. Whatever you're feeling, whatever you need, I'm here."

His hands slid down to cup her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears. Between the earth-shattering sex and connection, they shared that came as natural as breathing to them, she couldn't make sense of her emotions as she prepared herself to head back home to Los Angeles the following morning.

For a little under a week, his sprawling Madrid home had been her sanctuary, an escape from the world and all of her problems that loomed.

Return home meant stepping out of the bubble she had created with Kylian, and she didn't know how to feel about it.

She knew she wasn't ready for a relationship or to give her heart to another fully, but as she told Melissa a few days before, as she had helped her prepare dinner in Kylian’s kitchen, she wanted him.

Kylian's gaze held hers, a silent understanding passing between them as they navigated their emotions.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Can you stay awake for me?” he asked softly. Giselle nodded, shifting her tired body off Kylian so he could get out of bed.

She watched as he strode into the bathroom before she heard the sound of running water, the light from the bathroom illuminating the gentle outlines of his body.

Giselle's mind raced as she replayed the intensity of their connection, the way he made her feel—sought after, cherished, and utterly consumed. She had never felt so open with someone, yet she was torn between desire and fear.

When he returned, he scooped her body up from the bed as if she were weightless, carrying her into the bathroom, where he found the tub slowly filling with hot water and bubbles.

Kylian carefully lowered Giselle into the warm, bubbly water, the soothing heat enveloping her tired body. He stepped into the tub behind her, settling in and pulling her back against his chest.

"This is nice," he murmured, his arms wrapping around her waist. "You needed this."

Giselle sighed contentedly, leaning back into his embrace. The warm water and Kylian's strong arms around her were exactly what she needed to relax and clear her mind.

Kylian reached for a washcloth, dipping it into the water before gently wiping it over Giselle's shoulders and arms. His touch was tender and caring, a stark contrast to the intense passion they had shared earlier.

"You know," he began softly, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm going to miss you when you leave."

Giselle's heart fluttered at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving Kylian but also a sense of relief that she would have time to process everything that had happened between them.

The next morning, Giselle was the first to awaken, her body still wholly spent as she relished the last of Kylian's warmth.

In a few short hours, she be on a plane to Los Angeles, and as excited as she was to get back to work, the comfort she found in Kylian's embrace was one she knew she wouldn't find anywhere else.

A hiss from Giselle woke Kylian from his slumber as she tried to get out of his bed on shaky legs. Between her legs tender as she sat on the edge of his bed.

Kylian's sleepy gaze drifted over to her, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of her, disheveled and absolutely beautiful in the morning light. "Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

Giselle turned to face him, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. "I was going to make us coffee," she replied, a nervousness creeping into her voice as the reality of her impending departure settled in. "But I'm sore."

Kylian chuckled softly, a warm, teasing sound that sent shivers down her spine. “That’s what happens when you tell me to go harder,” he said, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

Giselle rolled her eyes playfully, the tension melting slightly at his words. “Well, I guess I should’ve known better,” she replied, her cheeks heating as she took a moment to collect herself. She glanced at him, caught in the depths of his eyes that seemed to see right through her nervousness.

“Come here,” he said, visibly stretching before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, a lion rising after a satisfying feast. He reached out and pulled her back against him, the warmth of his body enveloping her once again.

Giselle let out a soft giggle, feeling safe in his embrace despite the bittersweet feelings swirling within her. “Kylian…” she started, hesitantly, as feelings she had tried to shove down came rushing to the surface. “I have to leave soon.”

Kylian’s expression shifted slightly, a flash of understanding crossing his face. “I know,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against her shoulder soothingly. “But let's not focus on that just yet. We can have coffee first, and then we'll figure it out.”

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slvbun · 9 hours ago

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POWER & CONTROL ♡ Rafe Cameron

content: toxic Rafe x manipulative reader!, angst, manipulation, nudes, ghosting, cursing, rough sex, fingering, idk crazy ppl having sex. +18 pls minors do not interact.

The air in Rafe's bedroom still reeked of stale his cologne and vodka, a ghost of the nights she’d spent tangled up with him. She stood in Tannyhill’s grand foyer, her phone gripped so tightly in her manicured hand that the rhinestone-encrusted case sparkled under the dim light, the screen flashing with ignored texts, shots of her sprawled in her frayed denim mini-skirt, her tits spilling out of glittery pink lingerie, her ass arched in a way that screamed “Miss this, boo?” and “Bet you’re hard already.” Dead air. Not a single “fuck, you’re sexy” or even a half-assed “busy.”

Just nothing.

And she was fucking done.

They’d been sneaking around for months, no titles, no rules, just a nasty, addictive game. He’d shove her against a wall in some shadowy corner of his mansion, growling shit like, “You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” while his hands left purple marks on her thighs. She’d sink her teeth into his shoulder and hiss back, “Prove it, Cameron, fuck me like you mean it.” It was toxic as hell, and they both ate it up, her twisting him around her finger, him acting like he didn’t give a shit. But now he’d gone silent, and she wasn’t about to let him ditch her like some forgettable fling. Not when she looked this good.

“Rafe!” Her scream tore through the house as she barged in, heels stabbing the marble floor like knives. She didn’t knock, never had. The place was dim, shadows clawing at the walls, the faint buzz of a TV drifting from upstairs. Her whole body trembled, rage and adrenaline boiling into something wild. “Rafe, you fucking coward, where are you?”

He sauntered to the top of the stairs, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low enough to show the cut of his hips, that smug grin she wanted to claw off his face already plastered on. “Christ, calm down. What’s your deal now?”

“My deal?” She barked a harsh laugh, charging up the stairs toward him. “You’ve been ghosting me for weeks, you prick. I sent you my fucking pussy spread open, and you can’t even text back ‘hot’? What, you balls-deep in that Pogue slut now?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, slouching against the railing like she was boring him. “Maybe I’m just over your desperate ass. Ever consider that? You’re not my girl, you know.”

That hit, but she’d die before showing it. She got right in his face, close enough to let the scent of her candy-sweet perfume, pink sugar and danger, hit him first. “Oh, my bad—did I forget I’m supposed to just sit quiet and wait for you to grace me with your dick? You don’t get to rail me raw one night and then pretend I’m invisible, Rafe.”

He scoffed, stepping into her space, looming over her. “You’re so dramatic. I didn’t reply because I didn’t want to. You’re not my whole damn life, princess.”

“Liar,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You were whining for it last time—‘Oh, fuck, you’re so wet, I can’t stop’—ring a bell? Or are you gaslighting me now, acting like you didn’t say it?”

Rafe snatched her wrist, yanking her against him, his voice dropping to a rough growl. “Shut your mouth. You don’t get to storm in here and pitch a fit because I’m not panting over your pics anymore. Maybe they’re not even that hot.”

She jerked free, eyes blazing, and in one swift move, she ripped her tank top over her head, flinging it at his feet. Her tits bounced free, nipples pebbled in the chilly air, her chest heaving with every pissed-off breath. “Not hot? Look at me, you lying bastard. You’ve been hooked on this since the second you saw it.”

His gaze dipped, a flicker of raw lust cutting through his bullshit before he snapped it back up. “Fine, you’ve got a killer body. Doesn’t mean I’m your bitch.”

She smirked, closing the gap, her voice a low, mocking tease. “No? Then why’d you groan my name when I had you balls-deep last time? Why’d you say you’d snap any guy’s neck who touched me? Sounds like you’re my bitch, Rafe.”

His jaw ticked, and she knew she’d struck gold.

“You’re full of shit,” he snarled, but his hands were already on her hips, fingers sinking into her flesh like he couldn’t stop himself. “You think you own me? You’re just a needy slut who keeps crawling back.”

“And you’re a prick who keeps letting me,” she shot back, shoving him into the wall. Her nails scraped down his chest, leaving angry red trails, and he hissed, fisting her hair and wrenching her head back.

“Say it again,” he dared, breath hot on her neck. “Call me that one more time, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

“Do it,” she taunted, grinning like a devil. “Or are you too scared I’ll break you again?”

That snapped him. He spun her around, slamming her chest-first into the wall, her cheek smushed against the plaster, the denim skirt riding up to expose her ass in the glittery pink thong underneath. His hand slid down her stomach, popping the button on her skirt and yanking it down, her “BAD BITCH” buckle clinking as it hit the floor. She gasped as his fingers shoved inside her, rough and unrelenting, curling deep and pumping fast.

“So fucking soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with venom and hunger. “All this screaming, and you’re dripping for me.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” she growled, grinding back against his hand, her own toxicity fueling his. “You’re the one who can’t resist.”

He didn’t waste another second, yanked her shorts and panties down to her ankles, kicked her legs apart, and freed himself from his sweatpants. His cock sprang out, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip. He lined up and thrust into her in one brutal stroke, no prep, no warning, just raw, punishing force. She cried out, half-screaming, half-moaning, her walls clenching around him as he filled her to the hilt. The stretch burned, but she loved it, loved the way he split her open like he owned her.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, his hips snapping hard enough to make her ass jiggle.

His hands gripped her hips, nails biting into her skin, and he set a ruthless pace, deep, fast, relentless. Her tits bounced with every thrust, scraping against the wall, the friction stinging her nipples in a way that made her wetter.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he rasped, leaning in to bite her earlobe. “Me to fuck you stupid ‘til you stop bitching?”

“Yes—shit, yes,” she panted, pushing her hips back to meet him, taking him deeper. “Harder, give me everything.”

He growled, one hand sliding up to grab her throat, squeezing just enough to make her head spin. His cock pounded into her, hitting that spot inside that made her see stars, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the hall. She could feel every inch of him, hot, throbbing, stretching her so wide it ached, and she clawed at the wall, nails splintering as she chased the edge.

“You’re such a dick,” she gasped, voice breaking on a moan. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

“I do hate you,” he spat, but his thrusts stuttered, betraying how close he was. His free hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight, sloppy circles. “Come on my cock, show me how much you need this.”

That sent her over. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her cunt pulsing around him, squeezing him so tight he cursed out loud. She screamed his name, loud and ragged, her body shaking as waves of pleasure ripped through her, her juices coating his dick and dripping down her thighs. He didn’t stop, kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release, his grip on her throat tightening until she was dizzy.

“Fuck—fuck—” he groaned, and then he slammed in one last time, burying himself deep as he came, hot spurts filling her, his cock twitching inside her as he emptied everything he had.

They stayed there, panting, her shorts tangled around her ankles, his sweatpants barely clinging to his thighs, cum leaking down her legs. She turned her head, smirking despite the mess. “Don’t ghost me again, Rafe. You won’t like what I do next.”

He glared, wiping sweat from his brow. “Get the fuck out before I drag you out naked.”

She giggled, pulling the denim skirt back up with a shimmy, snapping the pink belt into place with a loud click, knowing full well she’d be back, and so would he. They were too broken to quit each other.

Imagine a manipulative reader who’s been secretly hooking up with Rafe for ages, pulling strings, and playing mind games to keep him hooked. But when he suddenly ghosts her, ignoring her messages and even her nudes, she snaps. Storming over to his house, she nearly throws a full-blown tantrum right in the middle of the place, shouting and letting all her frustration explode (MATCHING IS FREAK)

#slvbun #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst

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oddlittlestories · 5 months ago

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Nothing like a gifset to remind me that I really DON'T like dating men actually

#this particular gifset there were two people in a car having a wildly intimate conversation but also lh and jokey #a man and a woman #and then he gets a look in his eye and goes quiet #and then he kisses her #and boy do i remember that #sitting there in the vehicle #having a grand time with a guy #and he goes quiet and i start to think oh is he gonna kiss me what's he thinking how's this gonna go #and the dread #over the years there was less dread #more okay i'm cool with this sure #but like #that's supposed to be an exciting moment yk?#it's supposed to be omg i HOPE this is gonna happen #there's supposed to be sparkles in the air #like when I show my friend my favorite movie and she's about to tell me what she thinks of it and it looks like it's positive and the momen #hangs for a second #as we're both excited #this isn't really a great example but you get it #it's like the moment when your best friend says i love you for the first time #all giddy and nervous and you have to seize the moment and say it back #so anyways friends if you've ever felt this way now you have my experience to think about #one more data point #personal #might delete later

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lalunanymph · 3 months ago

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SNAP AND BREAK

SYNOPSIS you piss caleb off by going on a risky mission so he makes you pay. dearly.

WARNINGS caleb x fem!reader, fights, arguments, tension, misunderstandings, secret relationship, pseudo-cest, punishment, unprotected sex, improper use of evol, gagging, cockwarming, restraints, bondage, bdsm scene, size difference, verbal humiliation, pussy job, dirty talk, multiple positions, orgasm edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, nipple play, marking, biting, forgiveness, aftercare

DAWN SAYS another one for the cfgc <3 caleb punish me challenge mode: extremely hard. also, big thanks to bb vienna for tossing back some ideas and helping me shape up this bad boy ❤️

x / a03

It’s not often Caleb comes home for the holidays, and when he does, you want to make sure everything’s perfect for him.

Sweat dots your brow, dripping down your neck as you spring around the house like a frantic OTTO-PHO, cleaning every inch of your old home and picking up after any mess left behind. With Gran in elderly care and your childhood friend stuck in Skyhaven, the onus is on you to keep the space spick-and-span—a duty you sorely neglected due to your erratic mission schedule.

Damn it, you scowl, glancing at the clock. It’s already 9PM… Caleb could be home anytime soon…

Huffing, you bring out a box of Christmas lights, completely entangled together in a wiry mess, and you groan at the thought of spending hours trying to get one end loose from the other. Sure, Christmas Eve is a time for families to gather together and enjoy the festivities with merriment, food and one too many glasses of bourbon, but as much as you would love to spend time with Caleb on his rare days back in Linkon, there’s a lingering thought in the back of your mind, connected right to the Hunter’s watch on your wrist.

As you check through the notifs, you miss the front door clicking open, the soft scuffle of boots on the wooden floor only reaching your distracted ears when the person was a few feet from you. Despite your wicked fast reflexes, Caleb is quicker, caging you in his arms, pulling you tightly to his chest as his boyish laughter grazes your ears.

“Really, pipsqueak? Being distracted could cost you some Hunter brownie points.”

“Caleb!” you squeal, whirling around and smacking his chest, your eyes sparkling at the sight of him. “When did you get here?! I didn’t even hear your bike.”

He releases his grip on your waist, spinning you to face him, taking you in with his warm gaze. You didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes, stress-induced from nights in a world so far above the ground, with secrets you sense he could never tell you.

“Guess someone was more distracted than I gave her credit for,” he teases, ignoring your probing gaze.

You tighten your grip on his arm, and pull him closer, scrutinizing him from head to toe. “And you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Jeez,” he worms out of your grasp, though his cheery disposition remains unflappable. “Are you trying to steal my thunder? I’m the one that’s supposed to be the nagger, not the other way around. And you look like you’re short of a few days of sleep, too, Pips.”

It never surprises you how at ease he makes you feel. Banter and laughter flow freely between Caleb and you, and where words fall short, the silence remains warm and companionable. The scent of food is in the air, and you take a moment to inhale the fragrance of warm bread leaving the pan greedily. Caleb makes your favorite baozi, the sweet dough mingling with the succulent fattiness of the pork belly sandwiched between the two buns melting on your tongue, sending sparks of serotonin straight to the pleasure center of your brain.

He watches you eat with a twinkle in his eye. “Good?”

"Heavenly,” you practically moan, and take another bite. You miss his eyes darkening, the quick aversion of his gaze from your blissed-out face.

“Mhm. Glad you love it,” he raps the table with his knuckles and stands, focused on the tasks ahead. “We’ll pick up Gran from the care center tomorrow and return home. Can I trust you with the turkey, Pips?”

You nod, dusting your fingers free from crumbs and standing, too. “Got it. Turkey. What about the cupcakes?”

“Oh, I can get them delivered. Don’t worry,” he reassures with a grin. “Wouldn’t want Gran to worry about us stuck in Christmas traffic.”

He’s got a point. When Christmas Eve arrives, the streets of Linkon bustle with throngs of bodies hurrying down the sidewalks, a sense of urgency and excitement in the air. You’re carrying the turkey back to your bike when a familiar vibration on your wrist pulls your attention from strapping the bird tightly into your rear basket, and your heart falls when you see the fluctuation pattern.

Wanderers.

Your mind rushes with the implications of what comes next, and in your ear, the ever-present comm beeps, Nero’s voice on the other end briefing Team Alpha.

“... interrupt Christmas break�� urgent deployment to Chansia City—team of explorers—Caves—”

It comes in bits and pieces. You’re struggling to listen while kicking your bike into gear, revving back home to pack for the overnight mission.

“Nero, slow down—which part is overrun?” Jenna demands, her voice crisp from the other end of the line.

“—Chapel Bay. We need reinforcements—”

Kicking up dirt in your wake, you zip back home, arriving in time for Caleb to poke his head past the door, his greeting dying on his lips when he sees the tension radiating off you in waves.

“Pipsqueak, what’s wrong—?”

There’s no time to consider softening the blow when an entire neighborhood is at risk of being wiped out by Wanderers.

“I just got a call to go to Chansia. There’s been a huge Wanderer attack.” You pry the turkey from your bike’s rear basket and hand it to him, sprinting back into the house to pack when a tight grip on your wrist stops you.

“Slow down, Pipsqueak,” Caleb urges, his eyes wide with trepidation. “Did you just say Chansia?”

You nod, and something in his expression darkens.

“You can’t go.”

“Wh—?”

Before you can protest, Caleb slams the front door closed, barricading it with his broader build. “Pips, that area is certified Wanderer territory after the Profield Fall six months ago. Going there would be signing your death sentence .”

His words ring in your mind, leaving behind a tremor of fear. But, your stubbornness and need to help takes precedence over whatever hesitation you might feel, and you shake your head.

“Caleb, it’s my job—”

“ Y/N, please.”

No Pipsqueak, Pips, or short stack …

Your eyes widen as the realization hits you square in the chest. Caleb is completely serious about this. You take a step back when he corners you against the wall, those amethyst eyes shining with a desperate plea for you to listen to him—just this once.

“Trust me when I say this—the DAA knows what’s going on there and we’ve escalated it to Zone Three status. You could die there, Y/N—”

“Caleb, I can’t just leave my team behind!”

He swallows hard, crossing his arms and in a tone brokering no argument, he utters: “Give me Captain Jenna’s number right now.”

You gape at him, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “ Are you trying to get me fired? ”

“Family code for the Hunter’s Association means family members can refuse to allow a Hunter to serve—”

“Now you’re just making things up!”

Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, eyes narrowing at the sight of his wilful glare. Deep down, Caleb is just worried for you, his overprotective big brother tendencies leaving him resolutely firm on not allowing you to go. But, you’re not a kid anymore, and this is the duty you swore to uphold. Family or not, Caleb has no right to stop you from leaving.

“No,” you reiterate, standing your ground. “Caleb, this is unacceptable. You can’t just dictate when I can do my job just like that!”

“Oh, I can and I will.”

You feel a firm tug around your waist, and to your horror, his Evol snatches your phone from deep inside your pants pocket. “Hey—!”

He holds it above your head, no longer goofing around like he usually does when he teases you like this; expression serious and unyielding. “Tell me your phone password now.”

You seethe, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “Absolutely not!” Palm to his chest, he grunts, feeling the first stirrings of your Resonance piercing through the atoms binding his telekinesis together, goading him to explode. He grabs your wrist with the other hand, a mutinous and unfamiliar glare twisting his mouth into a sneer.

“Oh, don’t even think about using your Evol on me, little missy.” With a staggering strength you thought he would never use on you, Caleb drags you closer, pressing your thumb on the phone’s biometric sensor. It lights up and your phone unlocks, leaving him privy to your contacts.

In one swift motion, you kick him right in the bend of his knee, knocking him off balance. Caleb yelps and the turkey you so carefully transported back home goes crashing to the ground along with his knees hitting the carpet. Moving fluidly, you grab his shoulder, restraining his arm behind his back, forcing him to relinquish his grip on your phone where it clatters onto the floor.

“Pips—”

You push your knee right in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to the ground.

Caleb grunts in pain, but you’re too angry to even care about his discomfort.

“How dare you come in the way of my job?” You spit out, increasing the force of your knee into his back. “You have no right, Caleb. None.”

“I was just—”

“What’s going on?!”

You both glance up to find Gran staring at you in horror, frozen in her wheelchair. It’s been years since she saw a fight this bad between you and Caleb—the last one being when you two were angsty teenagers. At the look of dismay on her face, you hesitate and ease up, letting him go. Caleb rises with a derisive scoff, and without a second glance, tosses your phone back to you, remaining indifferent when you fumble to catch it.

“Fine. But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you’re going through with this, then I have nothing else to say to you.”

He walks away, his head bent, broad shoulders tense with frustration. You watch him disappear back into the kitchen and glance down at the mess of the turkey scattered on the floor—reminding you of the chaos you’ve brought to what was supposed to be a day of family and celebration. How you single-handedly ruined Christmas Eve.

“Gran, I’m—”

She raises a hand to stop your string of excuses and apologies. “Whatever you need to do, go and do it. Just come back in one piece, dear.”

You glance at the deep set lines of her face, the kindness in her eyes you didn’t deserve. “Could you tell him…?” You trail off, and flicker your gaze to the kitchen. Gran nods, imperceptibly understanding your request.

“I’ll speak to him, don’t you worry.”

Taking one last look at her, you nod and hitch the strap of your purse higher, thoughts already racing on the logistics of returning to the Association base and retrieving your hunting gear. As you straddle your bike, you steal a final glance at the kitchen window, wondering if he could see you pulling away. But, the curtains are drawn, and the lights dim.

Feeling the melancholy of separating on such awful terms with him, you kick up the bike stand and zip down the highway to your unknown fate, ready to fight Wanderers despite how much every fiber in your body was screaming at you to turn around and make things right with Caleb.

Caleb stares at the phone in his hand. It’s been three days since he last heard from you; since he last saw you.

He’s gone through the entire cycle of grief the whole time you’ve been missing from his side: denial that you had the nerve to hurt him after all he’s done for you, anger at the way you dismissed his concerns and complaints about him mother henning you when all he wants is to ensure your safety; bargaining with the voices in his mind to forgive and forget; a crippling depression at the lack of consideration you had for him by not even bothering to reach out and finally acceptance that come what may, you had to return home.

He wouldn’t rest till he sees you again—till he makes sure you’re safe and whole.

But, when the fourth day trickles by with still no sign or contact from you, anxiety gnaws him right to the bone and he can’t focus on anything else but the chirp of his phone, heart pounding wildly and breath hitching as he picks it up, hoping to see the golden notification which will indicate you’re still alive.

He’s disappointed time and time again.

Yet, he doesn’t switch off his phone or mute it. Caleb reasons if you ever did call him, he would always be on standby to berate you.

(And ask you when you’ll be coming home again so he can prepare to see you).

His heart echoes a dull thud that grows murkier and darker with each growing day of your absence. Till he can’t take it anymore and punches in the emergency number you left on the fridge, hearing the dial tone that echoes forlornly in the background of this empty kitchen soaking in the last rays of sunset.

The call doesn’t go through, and he tries the other number you left for him.

“Hello?”

Mercifully, a woman answers and his white-knuckled grip on the phone tightens.

“Hi,” he stutters and feels like a fool. “My name is Caleb. I’m… Y/N’s friend,” clearing his throat, he presses on. “I haven’t heard from her in days and I’m starting to, uh, get worried. Is she—?”

He barely gets the question out when the woman interrupts him, not unkindly.

“Caleb, isn’t it? You’re her adopted brother. My name is Jenna and I’m the captain of Team Alpha. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any further information about our Deepspace Hunters except that they are currently on a very important mission.”

Jenna’s tone is steepled in regret, and Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. I know, damn it.” If she finds his cursing crass, she doesn’t comment on it. “But, it’s been four days already. I just need to know—”

“Mr. Caleb, we understand your frustration, but please, do let us handle the mission on our end, and if there are any updates—”

“You’d only tell me if she returns in a body bag.”

The transparency of his resigned statement floats uneasily like a greasy film over a thick coating of lies he’s very well accustomed to in the military and law enforcement world. The reality is this: he would never know if you were alive until you came back home.

Caleb thumps his forehead against the frosty kitchen glass, watching the white snowflakes dance in front of him with listless, pained violet eyes. The necklace you gifted him hangs from his neck like a noose, threatening to choke the last of his composure. He struggles to hold onto his temper, as he swallows and nods.

“Alright. Roger that. Thank you, Captain.”

He doesn’t give Jenna a chance to reply, ending the call and, in a fit of rage, slams his phone onto the table. His sudden fit of anger doesn't go unobserved, Gran’s weary eyes watching him pace restlessly through the kitchen, not noticing her sitting in the dark corner. She wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how. After all, it was you who usually took the mantle of calming down this unnerving, determined young man during his rare, but terrifying bouts of rage.

Gran sighs quietly and stares up at the ceiling as if she could see past the layers of plaster and unease and into the graying, snowy sky.

Caleb slams the front door on his way out to god knows where. Like always, she remains reticent and disengaged, sitting in the furthest corner where his disconcerting emotions could never reach her.

You weren’t expecting anyone to wait for you back in your apartment when you finally returned home.

Light snow coats the front of your lobby stairs, and the second he sees you, the doorman waves to catch your attention.

“Oh, Miss Hunter! You have a care package waiting for you in the mail room.”

Curious and weary from your arduous mission, you trudge to the mailroom to retrieve the package under your name. Clasping it in one arm, you drag your tired and bruised body straight to your apartment and push open the door, switching on the lights and air conditioning. The space smells of stale air and an underlying current of tension, greeting you with a lingering melancholy you couldn’t quite shake off.

You carefully close the door behind you and set the package on your dining table. Glancing out at the twinkling lights of the street below, the feeling of missing out on an important holiday creeps back in, and you fight back the urge to sob.

Now’s not the time…your inner voice chimes. You need to eat something… shower and rest. Wiping your damp eyes, you take a deep breath. The time to break down and mourn over your guilt can come later.

Tearing the package open, your heart skips a beat when you see a bento box filled with dehydrated vegetables, powdered cranberry sauce, dried turkey, and a side of instant mac ‘n’ cheese. A note, written in a blocky scrawl you recognize as Caleb’s, makes the lump of guilt in your throat thicken even more.

Merry Christmas, Pipsqueak. We missed you. — C

You boil some water, microwave the food, and rehydrate the greens again, taking your sad pre-packed Christmas meal on the balcony. The food is good, and you have an inkling of Caleb freeze-drying it for you—begrudgingly making sure you could still enjoy your holiday even after the catastrophic fight you both had.

As you chew listlessly on a slice of turkey, you glance up at the sky where you imagine the outline of Skyhaven to be, snowflakes clinging onto the ends of your lashes, falling like powdered sugar onto your bare hands.

Caleb… your mind echoes forlornly. Did he return to the base? Is he still here in Linkon?

One quick look at your Moments feed, and you see he’s still here, catching up with old classmates and grinning brightly in his photos like the two of you hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago.

The temptation to call him up is at odds with your bruised ego from the smothering behavior he exhibited days earlier. A part of you wants an excuse to see him again despite the growing distance since the argument—to thank him for the meal he prepared for you.

Snowflakes melt in your hair, an unceasing chill creeping up on you. Despite the unusual distance creeping insidiously into your relationship, the chill, the reproachful silence—the meal he sent you was more than a peace offering. It was his version of an apology.

Your mind floats a million miles away, thinking about Caleb, wondering if he is still mad at you. You heave a sigh. As much as you dread it, there’s only one way to find out.

Pulling out your phone, you click on his number. The dial tone drones on and on, plucking on your nerves, and you reflexively nibble on your nails, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hello! ” You expel a rushed breath, an apology on the tip of your tongue when you’re hit with the realization that you’ve reached his voicemail box instead. “—probably busy. Please leave a message after the beep—”

Silence. You catch a staggering breath. “Caleb? It’s me. If you get this, let’s meet up, ‘kay? Talk to you soon.”

There’s a hum in the night air, a tension drawing lines around your taut figure. You wait and wait for his return call, glancing at your phone every minute, checking on your messages in case he left one when your back was turned. The warm shower you took could barely flush out the thought of Caleb, your anxiety peaking when you decide to check on Moments, seeing him post a picture of his dinner with his friends, but leaving your message on read.

Crap. You’re in deep trouble now. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, rubbing your face.

There isn’t a hint of doubt that he’s punishing you now with the silent treatment. Caleb is never the type to avoid confrontations—he thrives on them. He loves arguing, challenging your worldview, and trying to prove his point, just to rub it in your face that he will always be right.

The indifference is odd; this distance is not like him.

Before you can stop yourself from calling him again, you slip on your coat, tug on your scarf, and rush to your bike.

I’m going to make him talk to me if it’s the last thing I do, you think viciously, revving up the bike aggressively—kicking up snow and dirt in your wake to break this frostiness between you two.

In fifteen minutes, you find yourself in front of your childhood home, the kitchen lights glowing warmly. Gran is probably already back at the elderly care center, and since Caleb is still treating you as public enemy #1, he’s staying here to keep his distance from you. You kill the engine and march straight up to the door, unlocking it with your spare key.

Inside the house is warm and toasty, the faint smell of food drifting from the kitchen. You freeze when the sound of heavy footsteps reaches your ears, looking straight into his wide, amethyst eyes.

Caleb exhales a sharp breath, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Pipsqueak…”

You remain nailed to the spot, wondering if he would kick you out—ask you to leave for daring to show your face here again. But, he does no such thing, beckoning you to close the door and come in. Though he doesn’t outright reject you, he doesn’t welcome you with open arms, either, the usual exuberance and grins he reserves for you nowhere to be found on his unsettlingly serious expression.

Caleb goes back into the kitchen, picking up a towel to wipe down his hands. The paper plane bracelet you got for him years ago peeks past the sleeve of his gray hoodie, a reminder of happier times between you two.

You hesitate for a single second by the doorway, wondering when the thought of home left you this cold and disorientated.

Like a lost puppy, you trail after him, removing your jacket and setting it on the back of a dining chair.

“Thank you… for the meal,” your hoarse voice breaks the icy silence.

Caleb glances at you from behind the kitchen island and nods. “You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and the easy familiarity from years of knowing each other fades into a glacial stillness. You hear your breath leaving your lips, and sense the way he’s avoiding your eyes.

“Caleb—”

He scoffs at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and turns around, putting all his focus on the bread he’s baking. You know him well enough to understand he only bakes when he’s completely stressed out over something.

Without thinking, you touch his wrist, not anticipating the sharp way he draws his hand back from you.

“Caleb…”

He doesn’t glance at you—barely gives your pain a second glance. “What’re you doing here, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs gruffly. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing a debrief report right now?”

As much as his distance stings, his dismissal hurts even worse, feeling like a knife carving through your chest.

“It’s Christmas season,” you whisper. “The offices are closed—”

“And yet, risky missions still prevail, huh?”

His words bite straight to your core, and you wince. “Caleb, it’s not—”

“Save it,” your childhood friend cuts you off, jerking his chin towards the dining table. “Sit down there and don’t disturb me. I’m making sourdough focaccia and if something goes wrong, I will 100% blame you.”

Despite the warning in his tone, you can’t help but smile faintly.

“Okay…”

Taking a seat at the table, you watch him work. The sleeves of his hoodie stretch tautly over his bulging biceps, rolling up to expose his forearms as he works the dough into a malleable ball. The silence is something new, a phenomenon born from the supernova of your hasty mistakes, leaving gaping black holes of awkwardness surrounding the two of you. Any light coming through from your attempts to make conversation is shut down with a dismissive hum or grunt from Caleb.

You can tell he’s avoiding any attempts to talk, focusing on making the bread and ignoring your presence in the corner of his eye. The childish part of you that grew up with his undivided attention screams, tearing and twisting in your chest, needing to reclaim his interest and care again. You pout, sulk, and heave numerous heavy sighs. But, he doesn’t turn to look at you, much too busy focusing on brushing basil oil onto the bubbling surface of the dough.

So, you amp up the distractions. You circle closer and closer to him, pressing your face near his shoulder to watch him decorate the dough with slivers of cherry tomatoes. You linger when he turns to grab the container of sea salt flakes, playfully sticking your finger into the concoction to pop a bubble forming.

“Okay, that’s it—”

He grabs your wrist and tugs you back into the living room, making you sit on the couch with a scowl on his face. The look of pure wrath in his expression startles you, and you barely have time to murmur an apology when he shakes his head, glare intensifying.

“Stay out of my hair, Pipsqueak. I mean it. ”

“But—”

He whirls around, silencing you with a deep and unmistakable glint of rage in his usually gentle purple eyes. You fall into a stuttering disquiet, unable to stop the hurt from flashing across your face.

“Caleb—”

“Don’t give me that look. And stay away from the kitchen.” Stay away from me. He doesn’t say it, but the warning is implicit.

You’ve never seen him this enraged before. Your breath falls out in a huff, and you give him an incredulous look. Caleb turns around, completely ignoring you, and returns to his focaccia. A voice in your head chimes in, telling you to just own up to your mistakes and apologize to him. But, the stubborn part of your consciousness, the one who insists she’s right despite how poorly she had treated one of her oldest childhood friends, remains stubbornly set on not breaking the ice first.

Easier said than done.

It’s hard.

It’s hard for you to sit on the couch, quiet and seething when Caleb is just a few feet away. It’s absolute torture to not be in there with him, yapping off his ear with updates to your mission, or trying to sneak eat a few cherry tomatoes when his back is turned. You miss him, and you miss his shitty jokes and dopey smile. You miss him.

You find yourself sneaking glances at him, wondering if he’s making an extra batch for you—hoping he isn’t too mad to deny you from having a focaccia slice. You know you’re being selfish and immature again, thinking he will be okay with you after the stunt you pulled on him when the reality of his dejection runs deeper.

Shamelessly, you stand and venture back into the kitchen, unlike a stray kitten who could never take a hint. You stand by his side, hovering around until he pays you a morsel of attention—gifting you back his sunny smiles and easygoing laughter.

But, Caleb remains steadfast in his efforts to ignore you, and you decide it’s time to bring out the big guns. Pressing closer to him, you lean your head against his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek into the soft material of his hoodie.

“Gege… don’t be mad at me…”

He stiffens, and yet, you persist with your efforts. Playfully nipping the back of his ear, you find his weakness in an instant, hearing his breath catch in the back of his throat.

Caleb pretends you don’t exist, letting you fight for his attention, but you can tell his resolve is crumbling. You hear the hitch in his quiet groan when you lick the sensitive shell of his ear, the heat of your body seeping past the thick fabric of his hoodie.

Gran isn’t here, and you don’t have to hide your desires from her, free to mess around with Caleb as much as you can.

You stand on your tiptoes, tracing the tip of your tongue down the curve of his neck, scraping your teeth against his sensitive skin.

Caleb hisses, and you fight back the urge to grin in triumph. His hands grip the marble island’s edge with a white-knuckle hold. You feel his resolution to ignore you falling apart, piece by piece, simmering in the knowledge of you offering yourself to him as a way of apologizing for the things you said—how you hurt him both physically and emotionally before your mission.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, gege,” you murmur against the salt of his skin, feeling his body heat under your touch. “Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever forgive your mei mei? ”

He bites back a groan, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Pipsqueak…” he hisses under his breath.

The way he says it, full of anger and warning, sends a sick, dark thrill up your spine. You resist the urge to lay off him, needing him to fully crack and give in to your whims like he always does—like he always will when it comes to you because you’re nothing if not Caleb’s spoiled rotten mei mei who always gets what she wants.

“Pipsqueak—” his words cut off into a low growl when he feels your arms belting around his waist, your hands sliding further down… fingertips teasingly brushing the bulge tenting under his pants. “Watch it.”

But, his warning lacks bite, and you gnaw on your lower lip, feeling his patience slowly dissipating. Caleb is once again putty in your hands, easy to mold to your desires. You grin against his back, feeling the same revulsive knot twisting in your stomach, the stench of the impending perverseness making your nostrils flare.

“ Gege… ” you whisper again.

It’s the final nail to the coffin of his attempts to resist you. Except when he snaps, he does it in a way you never expect.

Caleb grabs your hand and spins you around, pinning you right to the counter edge. Without a second’s hesitation, he drags your pants down, baring your vulnerable backside. The stinging pain of his hit on your left cheek draws you up short, and you cry out, cursing profusely.

“My, my,” you can hear the grin in his dark tone. “Such a mouth you have on yourself, mei mei … you need to be reprimanded.”

Another sharp spank lands on your right cheek this time, and your head jerks up, a yelp slipping past your clenched teeth.

“C-Caleb—”

“Don’t you dare Caleb me,” he sneers and drags you like you’re a ragdoll to the bedroom—his bedroom. Inside, you’re faced with gege’s full wrath, as he stands before you, tall and imposing, those amethyst eyes barely wavering when he takes in your warm cheeks and the glimmer of pain simmering in your gaze.

“Strip,” Caleb commands, lifting a dark brow. “ Now .”

You want to argue, to tell him to ease up, but the look on his face remains flinty and firm.

Swallowing your trepidation, you start by pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Caleb’s expression doesn’t shift, not even when his eyes rake over the lace bra you’re wearing. His jaw tightens, and he gestures at your pants, silently telling you to go all in if you want to earn his forgiveness back.

You reluctantly tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and drag them down, leaving you shivering in your matching lacy panties.

He scoffs, running his eyes up and down your scantily-clad form. “You sure you weren’t thinking indecent thoughts, you shameless minx? Good girls don’t try to seduce their older brothers by looking like this.”

You flush warmly at his degrading words, feeling your bravado slipping. “I-I wasn’t—”

Your words die in the back of your throat when you feel the restrictive force of his Evol grasping your wrists, drawing them above your head. Caleb’s expression and outstretched hand don't falter, and he takes another step closer, bearing down on your helplessness.

“Be quiet,” he snaps. Flicking his fingers, he pushes you against the wall, hearing the gust of breath rushing out your lungs when your back hits the hard plaster. You grunt in surprise, struggling and failing to fight your way out of the bonds he has your wrists in.

“Scared?” He goads, approaching you, taking your chin, and tilting your face up. The look in his eyes is borderline terrifying—you’ve never seen Caleb ( your sweet, lovely, kind, and sunny Caleb )—look this angry in your life. “This is what you wanted, right?” Grabbing your wrists in one large palm, he tightens his grip on you. “Teasing me… hurting me… you have a knack for breaking your gege’s heart, huh, Pipsqueak?”

You shake your head, wanting to protest when he silences you with a punishing kiss. Caleb bites down on your lower lip, your words and coherence lost in the slurry mess of his tongue fighting yours, tasting the warmth and wetness of your mouth.

“Mhm,” you moan into the kiss, tilting your head to the side to get more—taste more of him. He runs the tip of his tongue over the hard ridges of your teeth, squeezing your cheeks in a possessive hold, forcing your mouth to remain open and giving as he continues to take what he wants without a care for your pathetic whines.

“Don’t think I’ll go nice on you, Y/N,” he warns, tipping your head back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You treated me like dirt before you left. You hurt my feelings—” He growls, biting down hard on your earlobe. “You selfish, bratty little Pipsqueak… I won’t go easy on you, do you hear me? Nod if you understand.”

You can’t do anything but nod, helpless in the face of his anger. The corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of your submission, the dark monster within he tries hard to suppress rearing its jealous head, beckoning him to devour you. With a surprising show of dominance, he tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back with a grunt, exposing more of your throat to his wandering lips.

He licks, nips, and sucks his marks onto the pristine column of your throat, needing to see his marks bloom on your skin. Caleb is relentless in his attempts to remind you who you belong to.

The force of his touch sends sparks of thrill up your spine, and you gasp with every hot press of his open-mouth kisses to your vulnerable jaw and neck.

Caleb’s teeth scrapes your sensitive skin, drawing guttural gasps from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Ca-leb—” you break off into a hiss when his Evol rearranges your limbs, spreading your thighs wider; your arms restrained above your head. The last time he had you in this position was a summer ago before he left for a mission to Vagrant Land. You swore after that night when he was done with you, that you had to double your Plan B dosage less your body betrayed you and you conceived his baby.

“Please—”

He doesn’t hear your begging, taking a step closer, his bigger build pressing harder into your body.

“I said: Shut. Up. ”

In one swift motion, his telekinesis holds your lips shut, your struggles and indignant squeals barely triggering a reaction from him. The look on his face sparks both terror and desire, your body responding to his unexpected dominance; proof of your arousal shining from between your thighs.

“Already wet? How pathetic…”

He smirks, coating his fingers with the proof of your desire pooling right between your folds.

“Mhmph—Cwaleb—” your desperate squeak shoots his ego straight up to the moon, and Caleb is on cloud nine.

Such a desperate, little Pipsqueak. You want this so badly, huh? Mhm hmm. That’s right. That’s fucking right. You like my fingers in you? Good girl. Such a good, little Pipsqueak. You’re doing so well—fuck.

His anger aside, Caleb can’t help but praise you. It’s his default; his DNA. You drive him insane and he wants to punish you for getting under his skin—where you’ll always belong, not if he can help it.

“Something you wanna say, Pips?” he sneers, pumping two long, lithe, and callused fingers inside of you, catching on a spot that makes your toes curl.

“S-swo…sworry,” you manage to spit past the pressure clamping your mouth shut, tears swimming in your eyes, “Cwaleb… mhm .”

He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy your struggle. The flush on your cheeks, the wetness glimmering on your lips. Caleb wants to see you completely and utterly ruined for him.

“Beg,” he commands, slipping into his Captain persona with ease. In his eyes, you were nothing but an unruly cadet in need of a stern fixing. “Beg me and I might give you what you want.”

Thumb on your clit, he’s driving you delirious with feathery, teasing circles. Your eyes roll back into your head.

Cwaleb, you groan against his Evol. Pwease—mhmph!

The pressure of his fingers gets meaner, the look in his violet eyes muffling the last of your protests. Giving up on trying to get him to relent, you submit with feeble sighs, letting him take full control. Caleb grins, feeling you succumbing to his ministrations, your squeaks and sighs growing louder and more distraught.

He loves having you like this—on the edge, overstimulated, and completely relying on him.

Years of knowing your body and what makes you tick is enough for him to push your buttons—taking your limits past the breaking point.

He’s meticulous and sure with his punishment, doing whatever it takes to hammer in the anger and shame he wants you to feel—the lesson he’s trying to impart to your desperate body and distraught mind.

As he releases the pressure on your mouth so you can moan and gasp freely, Caleb’s quick with a foot of rope, using it to bind your hands in your front, allowing you just enough give to grip a pen in your shaky hand as he makes you sit on his cock and write ‘I will always obey my gege’ over and over again until your eyes swim, and your cunt is pulsing from every slight movement.

He teases you with shallow thrusts, lips in the crook of your neck, and warm, large palms covering your heaving breasts; playing with your distended nipples till they blossom into a pretty blush shade.

Driving you further into a pleasure-filled delirium, he rubs your clit with teasing circles, smacking your thighs when they start to snap close.

“I said—keep 'em’ open unless you know what’s good for ya, princess,” he sneers, leaving another stinging mark blooming on the plush flesh.

“Please…” The plea drops from your swollen lips and he chuckles.

“Struggling already?”

Caleb peers over your shoulder at your almost illegible writing and shakes his head. “I thought you were better than this—didn’t you once win the best handwriting award in high school? Tch.”

To your mortification and horror, he picks up the sheet of paper and tears it in half, ruining your hour-long effort of completing a hundred lines.

“Again,” he orders, and grabs a blank sheet, placing it in front of you. “And make sure your writing is pretty Pipsqueak. I wanna frame this.”

A strangled whimper tumbles from your mouth, and behind you, Caleb smirks at the sheer frustration at the sound.

Good.

Now, you would understand a sliver of the anguish he felt when you went missing for days. Now, you would feel the exasperation and outrage he did—and god, does it feelgood to watch you come undone for him.

You pick up the pen, and with a teary, little huff, start to write again. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, breath warm and distracting against your neck.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, chest rumbling with deep satisfaction. “Look at’cha. Doing so well… I oughta reward you after this, hmm?”

He teasingly trails his palm up your thigh, squeezing your flesh—enjoying how your pretty, tight pussy squeezes down on him with every rasp of his palm on your skin. The sight between your thighs is lewd, a creamy mess coating the base of his cock, dribbles of arousal gathering at the lips of your entrance which ripples around his thick girth. Caleb is equal parts mesmerized and thrilled by the sight, watching how your little clit shivers when he teases her with the rough pad of his index finger; how your body shudders, and the pen in your hand shakes.

“Much better,” he compliments your penmanship, giving your clit and nipple a squeeze.

“Ah— mhm! ” You choke through your tears. This minute reaction costs you a firm smack on your thigh, his fingernails digging into the singing flesh.

“Did I say you could take your eyes off the paper?” Caleb demands, and in a low tone, barks out, “ Write .”

Tears mist your vision, your hips twitching and muscles tightening around the fleshy intrusion lodged deeply in your tender pussy. Caleb wraps his hands around your waist and gingerly lifts you up and down, fucking you on his cock as the words on the paper get blurrer and blurrer.

I will always obey gege.

I will always—

The words get subconsciously stuck in your head, your lips shaping and breathing them out in shaky puffs. Black strokes of your obedience begin to fill up half of the page, and soon the whole sheet is covered with the affirmation. Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, giving you a much softer kiss, catching you off guard with his gentleness.

“There you go… lookin’ good, darlin’.”

He takes the paper from you and scrutinizes each word, well aware of your body trembling; your sweet, tight cunt squeezing pitifully around his cock. You’ve made such a mess on his lap, Caleb is surprised how the powerful orgasm you’ve been holding back for the past two hours hasn’t taken you under yet. It seems like one single touch and you might blow.

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back, and sets your work down, gripping your hip tighter.

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear. Those maliciously thick and long fingers slide up the length of your thigh, reaching to wrap around your neck.

“I did what you asked,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and moaning at the sensation of his lips kissing down your throat. “A-am I forgiven yet?”

Hmm, Caleb hums, his smirking mouth pressing on your pulse point. He loves how despite your lofty title as Linkon’s shining Hunter, you’re still so much smaller than him; your entire body dwarfed between his bigger build and the hard edge of the table. “... suppose I could show you some mercy.”

He traces random patterns on your thigh and a sliver of hope takes root in your heart. Maybe you’ve done enough to fully earn his trust and love back. Maybe he might be merciful and kiss you—

As if you weighed next to nothing, Caleb’s strong arms carry you back to bed, setting you down on his lap again. He buries his nose in your hair and inhales like a starved man tasting honey for the first time, his tongue darting out to trace the jut of your jaw, trailing down your throat.

“You’re so sweet… so sinful…”

His grave murmurs send sparks of desire straight to your core, and you clench your thighs, whimpering.

“Caleb…”

Your whisper is a fleeting plea of desire that disappears under his smothering kiss. Caleb devours your mouth, swirling his tongue with yours, his fingers holding your chin in place. Hungry, open-mouth kisses smear down your neck, right to your collarbone, where the ghost of his breath on your perky nipples makes you shudder.

He takes his time, playing with you while you’re all tied up and helpless. Caleb grins against your sternum, hearing your breath hitch when he parts your thighs and sinks a finger inside you with barely any prep. Your body takes him without resistance, and he nuzzles your bare breasts, relishing how soft your skin is against his cheek.

“You’re so eager… so ready for me…”

His dick throbs, but he pays it no mind, completely zeroing in on your pleasure. Caleb’s entire focus is on you—your whimpers, your sighs, how your poor, puffy pussy clenches down so nicely on his thick fingers.

You’re just ready to burst, darlin’ ... he murmurs huskily into your ear. Must be frustrating, hmm? Not being given the chance to come… I’m sure you’re aching…

His thumb circles on your greasy, little nub, hearing your soft moans and sighs in his hair. Caleb guides you to the bed, your bound body falling in a heap under him. He positions himself over you, forearms on either side of your head as he goes back to licking and sucking at your neck.

The sting of his teeth leaving another bite leaves you light-headed with lust, your body throbbing for the slightest bit of relief.

Please… you whimper again, trying your luck. Caleb… I need you…

Yeah? He murmurs huskily. Where’dya need me, princess?

You squirm, moving your hips and he feels you writhing underneath him. “Inside. All the way.”

His breathing hitches, blood growing hotter at the desperation and need in your tone.

“All the way? You know what to say to get a man going, sweetness.”

“I— ohhh .”

Your words die in the back of your throat at what he does next.

Caleb grins as he pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them. He carelessly tugs his pants down, ripping off his clothes to toss them to the floor, gifting you inches and inches of bare, tanned skin and defined muscles to gawk at. Ready, baby? Giving his cock a few good pumps, he lines the tip to your entrance, catching it on the rim of your pussy.

Teasingly, he works the flush, sticky head up and down your weeping clit, circling your opening, pushing it in past the tight ring of muscle with taunting ‘pops’. Your gasps reach his ears, and he grins, enjoying drawing out your pleasure far too much.

Like that? He licks his lips, eyes half-hooded and heated. It’s all going in you, baby… just… at my… pace.

He punctuates each languid word with a few more inches sinking inside of you, coaxing more sweet sounds from your slack jaw.

Oh, yes… yes… fuck me, Caleb. Fuck—oooh.

Your drawn-out hiss springs a wicked smile to his face. The way your eyes roll back; how your hips twitch.

Spasming wildly, your sweet pussy draws him in, and Caleb can’t get enough of you. It’s excruciating how much he’s edging himself as much as he’s torturing you. But, the moment he bottoms out inside of you, all the tension condenses right to the point where you’re connected to him.

Caleb sets a rhythm that leaves you gasping, legs wrapping instinctively around his fitted waist. His biceps and abs ripple with every thrust, those pesky lips you love too much finding the hollow of your throat, leaving behind his claim on your delicate skin for the world to see. His mouth presses to yours in a heated display of ownership, tongue delving past your lips to dominate yours.

His taste—musk, salt, man—coats your tastebuds, and you’re swimming in his heat and scent.

Caleb is everywhere and anywhere over you, all at once.

His bigger build completely dwarfs you on the bed, expert hands pushing your thighs apart and pressing your knees to your chest, leaving you flushed and completely vulnerable to him.

He laughs when your clit trembles under his scrutiny, the little bud exposed with nowhere to hide.

Zeroing in on your tender bundle of nerves, he presses his thumb to it, feeling the greasy little button twitch under his fingertip.

You look so pretty like this… all tied up and vulnerable… just for me.

“Caleb…” your moans begin to stutter, your hips beginning to spasm. You’re so close, all it takes is one misstep on his end to lead you down the biggest orgasm of your life.

Hours of teasing and drawing out your pleasure renders you an incoherent, babbling mess.

Faster, faster… oh god, please. Yesyesyes. Caleb—Caleb…

Anyone passing by the room could tell you were barely holding on by a thread. You look so beautiful under him like this: hair fanning across his pillows, cheeks warm and lips flushed. The glassy look in your eyes.

God, he’s so in love with you.

Having you here, under him where you belong, heals the fissured part inside of him that still aches from your cruel dismissal of his concerns.

His thrusts grow more punishing, the tip of his long, girthy cock hitting your cervix. Caleb tilts your pelvis, making you take him deeper.

There ya go, sweet thing, he coaxes. Can you feel me here—? He touches your womb. Feel me where ya need me. Oh, darlin’... I’m gonna make sure you feel me for days.

Picking up his pace, the bed creaks and rocks under you. Caleb makes sure to tease your clit as well with every punishing thrust, feeling your thighs tremble around his shoulders.

He’s so deep, so flushed against your body, he thinks you could suck him up and take him in your body forever.

Caleb is hard-pressed to admit he doesn’t want that—there is nothing in the world he desires more than to be one with your bones and breath. His movements get erratic, needing to bring you to the edge and back.

He can tell you’re close.

The look on your face, the warmth in your cheeks. You’re holding back and he couldn’t be any more prouder.

“What do you want, princess?” He asks, eyes soft with affection.

You struggle to put your desires into words, completely wrecked at the end of his cock.

“I… mhm— close… ”

He feels your muscles squeezing down on him, and chuckles breathlessly.

“Yeah? I can tell, princess. You want to cum—you need to cum, huh?”

You give a teary, little nod that tugs on his heartstrings. But, Caleb isn’t done with you—not by a long shot.

He grins and without warning, switches the position, putting you on top of him. When you falter and almost fall face-first into his chest, the familiar stirrings of energy hold you upright, his Evol keeping you centered and balanced on his cock.

“Ride me,” he whispers huskily. “Show me how much you want this—prove to me how badly you want to cum.”

The challenge in his tone drives you dizzy with lust. Licking your lips, you murmur a whimper which makes his grin stretch wider, and shift your hips, testing the give of his Evol.

Sturdy and sure, his grip on you doesn’t falter, and you quickly find a rhythm that makes his eyelids flutter shut. A groan slips from Caleb’s lips, his pretty purple eyes prying open to drink at the sight of you riding him feverishly.

Arduous and urgent, you move your hips like a pro. Caleb’s sure he’s never seen you this determined—the look in your eyes searing through him.

The sight of his dog tag and the apple charm you gave him years ago shining silver from his neck catches your eye, a stark contrast to his tanned and flushed skin.

God… you’re killing me…

Caleb smirks at your breathless words. I do? Glad to know, princess…

His large palm collides against your plush ass, watching the flesh jiggle with each precise spank. Your sharp inhales and whines spur him on as he takes his frustrations out on your pert ass, venting the fear and anger he felt when you left him behind for that torturous week onto your willing body.

Try to leave me again. His nostrils flare, eyes dark with promise. And I’ll make sure you’ll never have any use for your legs, you hear me, Pips

Possessive and passionate, he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the vulnerable skin of your neck. His Evol loosens its grip, and you go falling into his arms, his lips practically devouring your neck with heated kisses and nips.

You gasp when he works in another mark over one he just made a few minutes ago, the stinging bite of pain enough to get you fluttering all over his cock.

“ Mhm… ” you groan. You’re lost to the sensations, drunk off the high he’s giving you.

Caleb is no better. He’s almost cross-eyed from the pleasure, drunkenly leaving marks on your jaw and collarbone.

Sloppy. Languid. Caleb fucks you like he’s got all the time in the world.

He runs his hands down your back, over your sides, fondling your sore and stinging ass. Moving underneath you like a strong wave, he slowly rolls his hips up against you, pulling you closer onto his lap.

“You’re so good… taking everything so well… my perfect pipsqueak…”

Caleb’s moans and praises get lost in the crook of your neck. He uses his free hand to grip and squeeze your breast, drawing your turgid nipples into his mouth one by one; his other hand continues to spank and grope your ass.

It’s too much—all too soon.

You’re on the edge and he still hasn’t permitted you to come. The need to be good is at war with your primal instincts to give in to the pleasure, your gasps and moans are a desperate symphony to his heated ears.

His thrusts get more erratic, the wet sounds of your bodies joining together bouncing off the walls. The windows of his bedroom start to fog up, the bed creaking maddeningly with every thrust.

“Caleb,” you gasp, feeling the familiar tension coiling in your lower belly. “Oh… oh… ”

He hears the note of panic in your tone and chuckles gravelly. Dark hair in a disarray, amethyst eyes shining with mischief. Caleb is the picture of ravaged underneath you, and there’s little doubt you’re in a much worse state above him.

Licking his puffy lips, Caleb shakes his head, abs undulating from the release he’s also trying to hold back.

“Uh-uh-uh, princess,” he taunts, voice dropping an octave lower. “Not yet…”

You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut in despair. He grins, lips moving back to your neck, murmuring against the salt of your skin.

“I love seeing you like this… hearing you gasp and whimper… feeling you writhe so desperately above me…”

Caleb… you whisper his name like a prayer, one you hope he grants.

“Yeah, princess? Say my name… I love it when you say my name.”

“Caleb… oh… Caleb… ”

He nuzzles your neck in an unexpected gesture of adoration, feeling how tense your body is.

“You’re so close, hmm?” He murmurs, unlike how a pet owner tries to soothe a fretting kitten. “I know you are, Pips. I can feel ya. So close… oh… and yet so… far .”

At the last second, before you succumb to your pleasure, Caleb’s Evol lifts you off his cock, the sudden, gaping loss ripping the earth-shattering orgasm right from under your trembling body.

No! You cry out in a thick voice, and you swear real tears spring in your eyes. No… no… please…!

Begging him shamelessly. That’s what you were reduced to.

Caleb chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He loosens his grip on you and guides you back onto his cock. You hiss from the intrusion, eyes rolling back in your head. Nothing but a puppet to her Master’s strings; Caleb is firmly in control.

He manipulates your body to his own pace, using his Evol to fuck you on top of his cock like you’re a lifeless doll, made only for his pleasure.

“Oh… oh… y-you ass—”

Caleb laughs, cutting off your tirade by gripping your hips tighter.

“Don’tcha love it, princess? Don’t lie to me—you adore it when I tease ya. Make you work for my lovin’,” he mutters hotly into your neck. “You can deny it all ya one, Pips, but I know what you want… I know what you want deep, deep down…”

As he drawls out ‘deep’, his Evol loosens, making you slide down his cock until you bottom out.

“ Ngh! ” You cry out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your cheeks. Caleb clicks his tongue and wipes the proof of your frustration away with his calloused thumb.

“No need to cry, Pips. I gotcha. Gege’s got ya, don’t he?”

You struggle to reply, the last of your coherent thoughts scrambled by his cock working you back to the edge again.

Caleb… Caleb… you cry out, his name a mantra, a chant that grounds you as his cock continues to fuck you up.

It seems like forever passes by when he brings you to the edge, abandons all motion, and does it again until you’re practically sobbing from the overstimulation. Caleb is a mastermind of your own body—he knows just how to get you trembling from the onslaught of pleasure without ever letting you fall over.

The torturous cycle starts and ends the same: with your begging and whining doing nothing to move him.

“Please…” you finally gasp, hanging your head, strands of your hair tickling his chin. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m so sorry…” Fighting back the lump in your throat, your shiny eyes beg him to show you some mercy. “I’m sorry I hurt you… s-sorry I— ah… mhmmm… treated you like shit… I’m so sorry—”

Caleb sweeps you into his arms, his Evol completely releasing its grip on you. “That’s all I wanted to hear… all I needed…”

He registers how you’re choking up and rubs gentle circles on your back. “Hey—ssh. Ssh. Apology accepted, Pipsqueak. Don’t cry, okay… come here…” Gripping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his, he gives you a soft smile. “You did so well… I’m so proud of you, hey? You wanna come, sweetness?”

Without a shred of stubbornness left, you eagerly nod. He chuckles, and positions you back on his cock, purple eyes glistening with the pure adoration he has for you.

“Alright—come on, baby… ride me good this time, okay? And don’t hold back—you deserve this… deserve all this for being such a good, little girl—”

It doesn't take long for you to get to the edge, hours of suppressing your release make you needy and very sensitive.

Come… come for me… he encourages you, rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples—doing everything in his power to get you to lose control.

The tension in your belly snowballs to something beyond your control, and you tilt your head back, expelling a long, drawn-out moan.

In the ropes and under his cruel yet tender ministrations, you find the courage to fall apart—his name rebounding across the room like a screamed cry of relief. Caleb feels you shuddering all around him and gives in to his baser need to fill you up, grunting low and deep into the crook of your neck as ribbons of warmth coat your walls.

Drops of white dribble to stain your inner thighs and his lap, but neither of you cares.

Undoing the rope and relinquishing his Evol’s hold on you, Caleb catches you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair, soothed by your delicate scent.

The afterglow settles like a haze, enveloping your body like a warm, fluffy blanket.

Caleb traces patterns on your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your temple and cheek. He breathes in your light scent, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“You alive, Pips?”

Nodding, your eyes flutter close, the comfort found in the crook of his body intoxicatingly cozy. Your heartbeat starts to slow, lulled by the gentleness of his breathing. His pulse steadies under your cheek, his arms tightening around you, pressing you closer to his chest.

“You did so good, princess…” he murmurs, stroking your head. “So proud of you—I’m so proud of my little Pipsqueak…”

His praise hits your system like a shot of red wine, warming you up from the inside out. Flushed from his gentle words, you eagerly rub your face against his throat, his boyish chuckles easing the guilt still swimming in your soul.

“Caleb?” He looks down at you, taken by your small voice.

“Yes, Pips?”

“Am I… forgiven?”

He nods without a beat of hesitation. “You sure are. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about anymore, okay? Let’s put this behind us and start fresh, princess. How’s that sound?”

Relieved, you nod, and the love you feel for him intensifies, radiating brightly from deep within.

One thing you’ve learned about wounded hearts is this: with Caleb’s smile, everything can be healed.

— feedback and reblogs are much appreciated ❤️ your support means a lot to me

#🦢 writes #caleb xia yizhou #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb smut #lnds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace fic

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evilmenenjoyer · 2 months ago

Text

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you.

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you.

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #my fics

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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

Text

Collision

Christmas Special🎄

Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 16K

The driveway crunches under your tires, the snow thick and fresh, the icy wind biting at your face the second you step out of the car. It smells like home—pine trees and the faint whiff of wood smoke from the chimney. But none of it feels comforting. The weight in your stomach isn’t from your bag slung over your shoulder; it’s dread.

Christmas is supposed to be easy, right? Some lights, shitty jokes from your dad, a pile of gifts no one really needs. But this year? No, this year is a fucking curveball. Your dad remarried. Out of nowhere. Surprise! He’s got a wife, and she’s got a daughter. You haven’t even met them yet. They could be anyone. Strangers, stuck in your house, calling it theirs. What if they don’t like you?

Worse—what if they do?

The front door swings open before you even reach it, and there’s your dad, grinning like he’s already three spiked eggnogs deep. “Hey, kiddo!” he booms, pulling you into a bear hug that smells like aftershave and nostalgia. You pat his back awkwardly, your fingers cold and stiff.

Inside, the house is warm, almost stifling, and decked out like Christmas threw up everywhere—tinsel, garlands, the works. You catch a glimpse of the tree in the living room, its blinking lights like a sugar rush for your eyes. You put your bag on the floor for a moment.

That's when you see one of them.

Your stepmother’s standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, her smile wide but a little hesitant. She’s tall, polished, the kind of woman who looks like she’s never eaten a carb without guilt. She steps forward, offers a hand. “Good evening, sweetheart. So nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is smooth, polite. You shake her hand, mumbling your name and something about being pleased to meet her as well.

But your eyes slide past her, drawn like a goddamn magnet, and there she is.

Yujin.

Yes, her.

It’s like getting punched in the gut. She leans against the doorway, arms crossed, lips curled in that same fucking smirk you’ve had nightmares about. Her black hair falls over one shoulder, her skin flawless, her legs impossibly long in ripped jeans that should be illegal. She hasn’t changed, except maybe she’s hotter now, and isn’t that just the ultimate middle finger from the universe?

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says, her voice low and syrupy, and it knocks the air out of you. Her smile widens as your brain short-circuits. “So nice to finally meet my stepbrother.”

You can’t even answer.

Your throat’s dry, your palms clammy. All the memories come rushing back—her cornering you by your locker, stealing your homework, making you trip in front of half the school. She was your personal tormentor, a one-girl wrecking crew of humiliation.

And now?

Now she’s in your house.

You force your legs to move, stepping forward to shake her hand, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls you into a hug. A hug. Her body presses against yours, warm and soft and so fucking wrong, and then she leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“God, you’re still such a little bitch,” she whispers, her voice so quiet only you can hear. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Your heart’s slamming in your chest, your hands shaking as you pull away, trying to act normal. But she’s watching you with that sly grin, her eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your dad says, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Why don’t you kids catch up?”

Yujin winks at you. “Yeah, let’s catch up,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly.

You nod, because what else can you do? Christmas Eve has already become your funeral. The nightmare’s just started, and there’s no waking up from this one.

“Err, sure, I'll just keep my stuff in my room.”

I'll help you!" exclaims Yujin, the altruist.

“You don’t have to—” you start, your voice cracking as Yujin plucks your bag off the floor like it weighs nothing.

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts you off, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “What kind of stepsister would I be if I didn’t help my adorable little stepbrother settle in?”

Her tone drips with mock sweetness, and you glance toward your dad, silently pleading for rescue, but he’s too busy smiling like a proud idiot. Your stepmother nudges him with her elbow, murmuring something about how nice it is to see the two of you bonding.

You want to scream.

“I can handle it,” you try again, grabbing for the bag, but Yujin just tilts it out of reach and turns toward the stairs.

“Don’t be rude,” she says over her shoulder, her smirk still firmly in place. “Lead the way, champ.”

You have no choice but to trudge up the stairs, Yujin trailing behind you with your bag. You can practically feel her eyes burning into the back of your neck. Your old room’s at the end of the hall, unchanged except for the faint smell of mothballs and abandonment. You push the door open and step inside, already imagining locking it and barricading it with a chair.

But before you can say a word, Yujin’s behind you, kicking the door shut with the heel of her boot. The sharp click of the latch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well,” she says, dropping your bag onto the bed with a heavy thud. “This is cozy. Still jerking off to the same anime posters, or did college finally level you up?”

Your cheeks go hot instantly, and you spin to face her. “Shut up,” you snap, sharper than you mean to, but it just makes her grin wider.

“There’s that fire,” she purrs, stepping closer, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I was starting to think college turned you into a total bore.”

You take a deep breath, forcing your voice to stay calm. Mature. “Did you know?” you ask, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Before today. Did you know I was—” You can’t even finish the sentence. The words feel too ridiculous. Too impossible.

“Your dad’s son?” she finishes for you, arching a perfect eyebrow. “Obviously. He showed me this cute little picture of you two together. Big grins, matching dorky Christmas sweaters. I thought I was gonna piss myself!"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “So you’ve been planning this.”

“Planning?” She tilts her head, mock-innocent. “Oh, no, stepbrother. I’ve just been… looking forward to it. Every day since I found out.” She pauses, leaning in until you can smell her shampoo, something sharp and floral that makes your head spin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face downstairs. Priceless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold your ground. “You’re acting like we’re still in high school,” you say, your voice steady, even though you’re sweating bullets. “We’re not kids anymore. Can you try acting like an adult for five minutes?”

“Hmm.” She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Nope. Too boring.”

You want to scream again, but instead you sit on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands. “What do you want, Yujin?” you mumble through your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Why am I like this?” she echoes, feigning shock. She perches on the bed next to you, so close her knee brushes yours. “I’m like this because it’s fun, dummy. Look at you. You’re so easy.”

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, clenching your jaw. “Can we just… not?”

“Not what? Talk about college? Your big, important life now?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back on her palms. “Alright, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your boring classes and your boring friends.”

“It’s not boring,” you mutter, glaring at her. “I’m doing well. Better than high school, anyway.”

“Well, that’s a low fucking bar.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, I’m kidding. Lighten up.”

You sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. What about you, then? What are you doing with your life, besides making mine hell?”

“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand lazily. “This and that. I’ve got a part-time job. Still deciding what I want to do long-term. For now, I’m focusing on hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes. “Like tormenting me?”

“Bingo.” She winks, crossing her legs and making herself way too comfortable on your bed. “But seriously, I’ve mellowed out. College must’ve made you soft.”

You bristle at the jab, but you don’t take the bait. Not this time. “Can you just—can you try to be normal? Just for Christmas?”

“Normal?” She laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re in my house now. Normal’s not on the menu.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose.

This is going to be the longest Christmas of your life.

“Remember that time I locked you in the janitor’s closet during lunch?” Yujin says, lounging across your bed like she owns it, her smile is as sharp as ever, her voice dripping with nostalgia. “You cried so loud, the janitor thought the fire alarm was going off.”

You stiffen, gripping your knees so tight your knuckles turn white. “I didn’t cry,” you mutter, though your face burns hot at the memory. You’d been pounding on the door, desperate to get out, and yeah, maybe your voice cracked a little, but crying…? No way.

“Oh, you definitely cried,” she shoots back, her grin widening. “Tears streaming down your nerdy little face, begging for someone to let you out. It was adorable.”

“It was traumatic,” you snap, glaring at her. “I missed half my math test because of you.”

“Half your math test?” She gasps, mocking a look of horror. “God forbid! How did you survive without your precious GPA?”

“Can you not?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you think this is funny? You made my life a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” She laughs, the sound light and cruel. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. You’re acting like I burned your house down or something.”

“It felt like it,” you grumble under your breath.

She smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You know, I was doing you a favor. Toughening you up. Making sure you didn’t grow up to be a total pushover.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that. Really shaped me into a beacon of confidence.”

She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“God, you are a sociopath,” you mutter, turning away to stare at the wall. You feel her gaze burning into the back of your head, like she’s trying to decide whether to poke the bear or let it simmer.

“So,” she says after a beat, her tone turning mock casual, “what about that time I replaced all your locker stuff with tampons? Classic, right?”

You whip around, your face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Classic? That was humiliating. Everyone laughed at me for weeks.”

“Months,” she corrects with a smirk. “Come on, though, you’ve got to admit it was creative.”

“Creative?” You bark out a laugh, bitter and sad. “You literally ruined my high school experience.”

“And yet here you are,” she says, spreading her arms as if presenting you. “Still alive. Still kicking. Still, uh… well, you.”

You glare at her, trying to ignore the smug look on her face. “How do you even live with yourself?”

“Easily,” she says with a shrug. “I’m amazing.”

Before you can retort, your dad’s voice booms from downstairs, calling your name. “Dinner’s ready! You two coming down?”

Yujin hops off the bed, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t just spend the last ten minutes reliving your personal hell. “Better not keep the old man waiting,” she says, sauntering toward the door. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. “Try not to trip on the way down, nerd.”

You grit your teeth, swallowing the retort that’s bubbling up. You can feel your temper boiling under the surface, but you clamp down on it. She’s not worth it. Not here, not now.

Following her downstairs, you try to shake off the memories, but they cling to you like cobwebs. Her laugh echoes in your ears, and for a moment, you wonder if this Christmas can get any worse.

Something tells you it can.

—

The dining room is warm, the table set with enough food to feed a small army: a roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce—the works. The smell alone would normally make your stomach rumble, but you can’t think about eating right now. You’re too busy trying to disappear into your chair while Yujin holds court.

She’s sitting directly across from you, a glass of wine in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. Your dad and stepmother are at either end of the table, smiling like this is a damn Coca-Cola commercial. They keep stealing glances between you and Yujin, clearly delighted that their kids are finally “bonding.”

“So,” your dad starts, cutting into his turkey, “how are you two getting along so far? Hitting it off?”

Yujin’s grin stretches wider as she sets her glass down, her fingers trailing along the rim. “Oh, we’re getting along great,” she says, her voice sugary sweet, but her eyes are locked on you, daring you to contradict her. “It’s like no time has passed at all.”

“That’s wonderful,” your stepmother gushes, clasping her hands together, apparently without noticing the subtext of her daughter's speech. “I was hoping you two would click. It’s so important, you know? Especially with blended families.”

Your dad nods enthusiastically, raising his glass. “To new beginnings!”

You mumble something noncommittal, raising your water glass just to avoid looking rude, but Yujin doesn’t miss a beat.

“New beginnings,” she echoes, winking at you over the rim of her wine glass. “Though, really, it’s more like picking up where we left off.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, and your stomach churns. You glance at your dad, praying he doesn’t take the bait, but of course, he does.

“Oh?” he says, perking up. “Did you two know each other before?”

Yujin leans back in her chair, crossing her legs, her expression pure amusement. “Oh, sure. We were… friends in high school.” She emphasizes the word “friends” in a way that makes you want to crawl under the table and die.

Your dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s incredible! What are the odds?”

“It’s like fate,” Yujin says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “We were absolutely inseparable. Weren’t we, little brother?”

You choke on your mashed potatoes, coughing violently. Your stepmother hands you a napkin, her face full of concern, but Yujin just watches, her smile never faltering.

“You okay, champ?” she asks, tilting her head like she’s genuinely worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you croak, your voice raw. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“Well, don’t die on us,” your dad jokes, oblivious to the tension. “So, you two were close, huh? Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Yujin answers before you can even open your mouth. “Oh, you know how it is. There are so many things we need to remember daily... And High school’s such a whirlwind. But yeah, we spent a lot of time together. In fact…” She pauses, letting the suspense build as she picks up her fork, stabbing a piece of turkey. “Some might say I had a… profound influence on him.”

You grit your teeth so hard you’re surprised your molars don’t shatter. “That’s… one way to put it,” you mutter.

“Don’t be modest,” Yujin teases, pointing her fork at you. “You were so dedicated. Always trying to impress me, always going out of your way to… help.” She says the last word with a sly smile, and you feel your face burning.

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly delighted. “Well, that’s just fantastic. See? This was meant to be.”

“It really was,” Yujin agrees, taking another sip of wine. “I mean, what are the chances? You, me, and now—” She gestures around the table dramatically. “One big, happy family.”

“Exactly,” your stepmother says, beaming. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you two getting along. It’s like a Christmas miracle!”

You force a tight-lipped smile, shoving a forkful of green beans into your mouth to avoid saying something you’ll regret. Meanwhile, Yujin’s smirk grows impossibly wider, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

“Tell us more about this,” your dad says, clearly eager to keep the conversation going, “what kind of stuff did you two do together back in high school? Any fun stories?”

Your heart sinks. Before you can come up with an excuse to dodge the question, Yujin leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, so many stories,” she says, her voice light and breezy. “Like the time we… Oh, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass him. You know how sensitive he is.”

You glare at her, your hands clenched into fists under the table. “I’m not sensitive,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

Yujin gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock surprise. “Wow, defensive much? Relax, stepbrother. We’re just reminiscing. It’s healthy.”

Your stepmother chuckles, keeping a conspiratorial and amused expression with your father. “They’re just like siblings already, aren’t they?”

“Just like siblings,” Yujin echoes, her tone syrupy and smug. She catches your eye across the table, her smirk so infuriatingly smug it makes your blood boil. “Don’t you think, bro?”

You grind your teeth, stabbing your turkey with unnecessary force. “Sure. Just like siblings.”

The meal continues, the conversation flowing easily for everyone except you. Every time you start to relax, Yujin finds a new way to dig her claws in—mentioning a “funny” story that conveniently paints you in the worst possible light, brushing her foot against yours under the table, or throwing out a sarcastic comment every time you try to speak.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re ready to fake food poisoning just to escape. But your parents? They’re over the moon. As far as they’re concerned, this is the happiest Christmas dinner ever.

—

The circus of horrors ends in a swirl of polite conversation and over-loud laughter, the kind that covers up awkward silences and unspoken tension. You pick at the crumbs of your dessert plate until you can’t justify sitting there anymore. Your dad, ever the enthusiast, claps you on the shoulder as everyone starts to disperse. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from a few too many glasses of wine.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, steering you toward the living room while Yujin and your stepmother clean up the table. "Can we talk for a second?"

You stiffen but nod, letting him guide you to the couch. He plops down, gesturing for you to do the same, and you oblige, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Look,” he starts, his tone softening in that way parents do when they’re trying to get serious. “I just want to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s not easy, this whole blended family thing. But seeing you and Yujin getting along? It means the world to me.”

You swallow hard, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “She’s… great.”

“She really is,” he says. “And you, you’ve grown up so much. I know high school wasn’t easy for you, but look at you now—college, a bright future. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Your chest tightens. How are you supposed to tell him that his perfect stepdaughter was your high school tormentor? That every smile she throws your way feels like a dagger aimed at your sanity?

You can’t.

It would ruin everything.

So you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Dad.”

He pulls you into a quick hug, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were a kid. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day—Our first Christmas morning as a new family!”

You force another smile, mumbling something about heading to bed. And with that, this one-sidedly joyful conversation ends.

—

Your room feels like a sanctuary as you close the door behind you, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket. You set up your laptop on the bed, scrolling through animated movies until you land on The Lion King. The opening notes of “Circle of Life” fill the room, and for the first time all evening, you start to relax.

You’re halfway through the Mufasa's death when you hear a knock on the door.

You freeze, your heart sinking.

There’s only one person it could be.

With a sigh, you pause the movie, put the laptop on the desk and shuffle to the door, pulling it open just enough to peek through. Sure enough, there’s Yujin, leaning against the doorframe in pajamas that leave very little to the imagination—short shorts that barely cover her thighs and a tank top so tight it’s almost transparent.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on her face and not the way her shorts cling to her hips.

She smirks, tilting her head like she’s already won. “Relax, nerd. I just need to borrow your toothbrush.”

You blink, sure you misheard her. “My toothbrush?”

“Yeah.” She pushes past you into the room without waiting for an invitation, looking around like she owns the place. “I forgot mine at my mom’s place, and I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”

You turn to face her, incredulous. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my toothbrush.”

She glances at your laptop screen, her smirk widening when she sees the paused scene. “Wait—are you watching The Lion King?”

“Yeah, so?” You fold your arms, trying to deflect.

Her laugh is sharp, cutting. “Oh my God, you’re such a child. What’s next? Gonna snuggle up with a teddy bear and sing 'Hakuna Matata'?"

“Classic Disney movies are comforting,” you snap, your cheeks burning. “They’re timeless. Not that you’d understand.”

“Comforting?” She raises an eyebrow, her grin downright wicked. “You’re pathetic. Do you still sleep with a nightlight too?”

“At least I’m not barging into people’s rooms asking to share their toothbrush,” you fire back. “That’s disgusting.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “What’s the big deal? We’re practically family now.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“Well, I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth.”

“Use your finger,” you suggest, exasperated.

She gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Oh, the audacity! What kind of savage do you take me for?”

“An entitled one,” you mutter, regretting it the second it’s out of your mouth.

Her eyes narrow, but her smirk doesn’t waver. She steps closer, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavier. “Careful, stepbrother,” she says, her voice low, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

You swallow hard, stepping back instinctively as she invades your space. “I—just… go ask your mom or something.”

“Nah,” she says, taking another step forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “I like seeing you squirm too much.”

Your back hits the edge of your desk, your laptop wobbling precariously. The paused image of Simba and Mufasa feels absurdly out of place, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Yujin as she leans in, her smirk turning predatory.

“So,” she whispers, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Are you gonna lend me that toothbrush, or do I have to get creative?”

You're tired of being trapped in this kind of situation and know that if you don't make a change, nothing will be different. Decided, you straighten your spine, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare her down.

Enough is enough.

You’re not the same awkward, scared kid she pushed around in high school. “No,” you say, your voice firm. “You’re not using my toothbrush. Ever.”

Her eyes narrow even further, her smirk faltering for the first time. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?”

“My problem?” You laugh. “My problem is that you think it’s normal to walk into someone’s room and ask to scrape your nasty teeth with their toothbrush.”

Her jaw drops, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Nasty?! Excuse me, but my teeth are perfectly clean!”

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. If you count all the lying and cheating you’ve done with that mouth...”

Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks genuinely offended. Then her expression hardens, her voice dripping with anger. “You’re such a little bitch, you know that? Sitting here in your sad little room, watching Disney movies like a five-year-old.”

“And you’re a dumb bitch,” you snap back, your temper flaring. “You only made it out of high school because you stole my homework and cheated on every test. I bet you don't know how to solve even a first degree equation!”

The second the word leaves your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up.

Yujin goes very still, her smirk vanishing. Her dark eyes fix on you, cold and unblinking, and for the first time, you feel a genuine spike of fear.

“What did you just call me?” she says, her voice dangerously low.

You open your mouth, trying to backpedal, but nothing comes out. She steps closer, her presence suddenly towering.

“I said,” she repeats, each word deliberate, “what did you just call me?”

“I… I—I didn’t mean—”

She cuts you off with a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve got some balls, stepbrother. Calling a woman a bitch like that. You think you’re tough now, huh? Big college guy? Watching The Lion King and talking shit?”

You hold up your hands, trying to de-escalate. “Yujin, come on, I didn’t mean it like—”

“I’ll teach you,” she interrupts, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr. “I’ll teach you to never call a woman a bitch again.”

Before you can react, she moves. It happens so fast, your brain barely processes it—her hands on your arm, a twist, a pull, and suddenly your back hits the floor with a dull thud.

"Jesus Christ!” you yelp, gasping for air.

She’s on you in an instant, her knees pressing into your shoulders as she straddles you. “What’s the matter, nerd?” she taunts, leaning down so her face is inches from yours. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

“Get off me!” you sputter, squirming beneath her, but she’s stronger than she looks.

“Oh, no,” she says, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Her thighs shift, and before you know it, they’re wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you panic. You grab at her legs, trying to push her off, but it’s like grappling with steel.

“Holy shit, Yujin! What the hell are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson,” she says, her voice mockingly sweet. “Say it. Say you’ll never call me a bitch again.”

“Fine, fine!” you choke out, your hands clawing at her thighs. “I won’t! Just let go!”

But she doesn’t let go. If anything, she squeezes harder, a triumphant laugh spilling from her lips. “Oh, no. Not until you say it properly. Beg me, stepbrother. Let’s hear it.”

“Yujin, come on!” Your voice is muffled, your vision starting to blur. “You’re insane!”

“And you’re pathetic,” she counters, her smirk widening. “Now say it. Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch.”

You groan, your pride warring with your desperation for oxygen. But as her thighs tighten again, cutting off what little air you have left, you know you don’t have a choice.

“Fine!” you gasp, your voice ragged. “Please, Yujin, I’m sorry for being such a little bitch!”

She laughs, a rich, mocking sound that vibrates through her thighs where they clamp loosely around your neck. Her long, toned legs feel impossibly strong, even though she isn’t really applying pressure. The mere implication that she could is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

“Sorry?” she repeats, tilting her head like she’s genuinely considering your words. “Hmm, doesn’t sound very convincing. Say it again, but this time really mean it. Oh, and call me ma’am.”

Your face flushes hot, humiliation creeping up your neck. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” you stammer, hating how meek you sound. “Please, I swear I won’t say anything like that again.”

She smirks, her thighs shifting slightly, the soft warmth of her skin pressing against the sides of your head. “That’s better,” she purrs, “but we’re not quite done, are we? Will you lend me your toothbrush now, or do I have to keep teaching you some respect?”

You grit your teeth, anger flaring despite your position. “I’m not lending you my toothbrush, Yujin! That’s disgusting.”

Her expression darkens, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Wrong answer,” she says sweetly, leaning forward so her weight presses just a bit more against your throat.

“Wait, wait!” you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at her thighs. “Fine! Take it, okay? Just let me go!”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She loosens her hold, but she doesn’t get up. Instead, her gaze drops, and her grin grows wider. “Oh my god,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

Your heart stops. You glance down in horror and realize that, yes, the bulge in your pants is painfully obvious.

“It’s not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off, shifting her thighs back into position.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” she coos, leaning in closer. “Look at you, blushing like a little schoolboy. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you like being choked by my thighs?”

“N-no!” you stammer, though your voice falters as her thighs press just a fraction tighter, the plushness of her skin enveloping your cheeks.

“Liar,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Come on, admit it. I can feel you squirming, and I can see that pathetic little boner of yours. Just say it—you like it, don’t you?”

You try to shake your head, but her legs hold you in place. “I don’t—”

“Say it,” she interrupts, her tone firm but still playful. “Or I’ll keep you here all night. Admit that you like how warm and soft my thighs are. Tell me you’re a submissive little perv.”

Your resistance crumbles under her relentless teasing. Your face burns as you mumble, “Okay… fine. It’s kind of… nice.”

Her laughter is bright and triumphant. “That’s what I thought. You’re a submissive little slut, aren’t you?”

You close your eyes, wishing the floor would swallow you up, but she’s relentless. Her thighs move between your face, forcing you to look up at her.

“So,” she drawls, “are you a virgin?”

“No!” you blurt out immediately, your face heating up.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “No? Really? I don’t buy it.” Her grin widens as she watches you squirm. “Come on, don’t bullshit me. Who the hell would fuck you?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. “I’m not lying,” you manage. “I’ve had sex before! In college.”

Yujin bursts into laughter, loud and mocking, her head tilting back in genuine amusement. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious. You? Getting laid? Please.” She leans in closer. “What was her name, huh? Bet she doesn’t exist. Face it—no girl, not even the most desperate, would fuck a loser like you.”

Her words hit harder than you expect, and the shame wells up in your chest. But she turns your chin with her thighs, forcing you to face her again.

“Aww,” she coos, feigning sympathy. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Well, maybe I’m feeling generous tonight. Must be the Christmas spirit or something.” She lets out a low chuckle, her thighs rubbing your neck slowly, almost like a massage. “Tell you what. Since you’re clearly a pathetic little virgin, how about I take that burden off your hands?”

Your eyes widen, your body betraying you as your erection presses harder against your pants. She notices immediately, her smirk turning wicked. “Oh, you like that idea, huh?”

“W-wait,” you stammer, but her voice cuts through yours.

“Not so fast,” she says, her thighs flexing against your neck just enough to make your pulse spike. “Before I even consider it, you need to admit something to me.”

“Admit what?” you ask nervously.

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “That I’m beautiful.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, no chance.”

Her thighs squeeze tighter, making you gasp. “What was that?” she taunts. “You sure about that answer?”

Your heart races as you struggle against the pressure. “Okay, okay! You’re beautiful, alright?”

Her smile grows triumphant. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But just beautiful?”

You hesitate, her expectant gaze burning into you. “You’re hot too,” you mutter.

She feigns surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “Hot? Oh, you’re making me blush. What else?”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “Your thighs… they’re, uh, juicy. And thick.”

Her laughter is rich and sultry. “Juicy and thick, huh? You like being smothered by them?”

“Yes,” you admit, your voice small.

She grins. “What about my smile?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say reluctantly.

Her grin widens. “Oh, really? Didn’t you say earlier that my teeth were nasty?”

You groan, the heat in your face unbearable. “I lied. Your teeth are… perfect.”

She leans back slightly, studying you with an amused glint in her eye. “You’re not just saying all this so I’ll fuck you, right?”

“No,” you insist. “It’s all true.”

Her smirk softens into something almost curious. “Alright then. What did you think of me back in high school?”

You try to avoid her gaze, but she won’t let you look away. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Talk,” she demands, her thighs pressing just slightly again. “Or I’ll keep you here all night.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. I had a crush on you, okay? I just… I wished you’d been nicer to me.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “A crush? On me? That’s adorable. Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“Because I knew you’d never notice me,” you mumble. “I was just the guy you bullied.”

She grins wickedly. “That’s not true. You were also good at doing my homework.” Her laugh is loud and unrepentant, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of humiliation all over again.

Her fingers tug at the hem of her shorts. “What do you think of my pajamas?”

You glance up at her reluctantly. The short shorts hug her hips in all the right ways, and her tank top perfectly shapes her breasts. “You look… hot,” you admit quietly.

She smirks, clearly satisfied. “Good, because I picked them out just to tease you. But I think you’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night.” She stands, finally freeing you from her hold, and stretches languidly. “Go get on your bed. It’s going to be the best night of your life.”

Without much choice, you agree. Yujin goes to the door and locks it, then joins you. Now the bed feels smaller now with her on it, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight as Yujin stretches out, making herself comfortable like she owns the place. The Lion King is still paused on your laptop, Simba frozen trying to wake up his already lifeless father, a stark reminder of how normal your night had been before this. Your stomach flips as she looks at you with that amused smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority.

“So,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “if you want me to fuck you, you’ve got to prove it.”

“Prove it?” you echo nervously, fiddling with the edge of your blanket.

“Yeah,” she says, sitting cross-legged now, her bare thighs on full display. “Show me you love me. Show me you’re capable of doing anything for me.”

Your throat feels tight as you stammer, “But… isn’t this… wrong? I mean, because of our parents?”

Yujin’s smirk deepens, and she leans forward, her face close enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath. “Who says they have to know? This can be our little secret,” she purrs, her tone dripping with mockery.

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. She notices, of course. Yujin notices everything. “Look,” she says, her voice firm now, “I don’t fuck guys who don’t value me. If you’re not willing to worship me, I'm getting the hell out of your little room so you can jerk off to some disgusting hentai alone.

Her words sting, and before you can even formulate a response, she stretches out one long, toned leg, her foot pointed like a ballerina’s. “Here’s how this works,” she says, wiggling her toes. “If you want to cum tonight, you’re going to worship me. Like a goddess.”

Your face burns as you stare at her foot, delicate and perfectly pedicured, her nails painted a glossy red. “I don’t… I don’t have a foot fetish,” you stammer weakly.

Yujin rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “I don’t give a fuck if you do or not. I told you to suck my toes. So, do it.”

You hesitate, but her expression shifts, her gaze narrowing. “Are you really going to make me repeat myself? Suck. My. Toes.”

There’s something commanding in her tone that makes your heart race. You swallow hard, your gaze flickering to her foot. It’s undeniably… beautiful. Soft skin, high arch, perfectly shaped. Before you can overthink it, you lean forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the top of her foot.

She laughs, low and pleased. “Good boy. But I said suck, not kiss. Start with my toes.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you lift her foot, her skin warm against your palms. You bring it closer, your lips brushing against her big toe. “Take it slow,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, her voice a purr. “I want to enjoy this.”

You start tentatively, pressing kisses along her toes, your lips lingering longer each time. The scent of her lotion is faint but sweet, and you find yourself losing the initial awkwardness. Her skin is soft, smoother than you expected, and the warmth of her body feels oddly intimate.

“Now lick,” she commands, her tone playful but firm.

Your tongue darts out, tracing the curve of her big toe. The taste is neutral, nothing unpleasant, and as you swirl your tongue around the pad of her toe, you catch a glimpse of her face. She’s watching you intently, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“See?” she says, her voice a little breathier now. “Not so bad, is it?”

You don’t respond, too focused on the task. Your lips wrap around her toe, sucking gently, and she lets out a soft hum of approval. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “Use your tongue more. I want to feel it everywhere.”

You move to her other toes, sucking and licking each one, the wet sounds almost obscene in the quiet room. Her foot flexes slightly in your grip, and you realize you’re gripping her ankle like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Good boy,” she says again, her tone dripping with condescension. “I think you’re actually starting to enjoy this.”

You hate how right she is.

There’s something strangely intimate about the act, the way her soft skin feels against your lips, the way her low murmurs of approval send a thrill through you. You glance up at her, your cheeks burning, and she smirks.

“Don’t stop now,” she teases. “You’re just getting started. Show me how much you appreciate me.”

Your tongue trails along the arch of her foot, your kisses growing bolder. Her laughter fills the room, light and mocking, but there’s a genuine note of pleasure there too.

“Damn,” she says, wiggling her toes against your lips. “You’re a natural. Maybe you do have a foot fetish after all.”

You shake your head, her toes still in your mouth, and she laughs harder. “Whatever you say, loser,” she purrs. “Just keep going. You’re doing great.”

Your lips drag slowly along the arch of her foot, tongue gliding up the curve, and every second feels surreal. You’re too deep into it now to stop. Yujin lounges back, one hand resting lazily on her stomach while the other dips beneath the waistband of her tiny shorts.

Her movement catches your attention, and you pause for a fraction of a second before her voice cuts through the air. “Did I say you could stop?”

“N-no,” you stammer, your breath warm against her skin.

“Then don’t,” she snaps, but her tone is lighter now, almost teasing. Her fingers shift under her shorts, her hips shifting slightly. Her smirk widens when she sees your gaze flicker to the way her hand moves. “Eyes on my foot,” she orders. “You’re not done worshipping me.”

You swallow hard and lean back in, your tongue running along the side of her foot now, your lips brushing her toes again, sucking gently. You hear her soft, satisfied sigh, and the sound sends heat pooling in your gut.

“God, you’re really into this, huh?” she purrs, her fingers clearly working beneath the fabric of her shorts. “Look at you, completely devoted. It’s actually kind of cute… in a pathetic, loser-way.”

Her words should sting, but instead, they just make you want to keep going, to prove yourself. You press firmer kisses along her foot, your tongue tracing every curve and ridge. Your hands tremble as they grip her ankle, and your own arousal throbs insistently, impossible to ignore.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt out suddenly, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.

Yujin giggles, a sound that’s both mocking and genuinely pleased. “I know,” she says smugly, her hips rolling subtly as her fingers continue their work. “But it’s cute of you to say it out loud. Keep going, loser. You’re doing great.”

Your mouth moves faster now, kissing and licking with more fervor, as if her approval is the only thing that matters. Your hand drifts down to your own pants, palming yourself through the fabric as you watch her.

She notices, of course. “Oh, look at you,” she teases, her voice low and syrupy. “Touching yourself already? You’re so fucking easy. What are you even thinking about right now?”

“You,” you admit breathlessly, the words spilling out in a rush. “You’re so hot, Yujin. You’re making me—”

“Making you what?” she interrupts, her smirk growing.

“Making me so fucking hard,” you say, your voice cracking slightly.

Her laughter is soft, sultry, and her hand moves faster under her shorts. “Yeah? And you’re making my pussy so wet,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you, on your knees, sucking my toes like a good little boy. How could I not get turned on?”

Your breath hitches at her words, and you press your palm harder against yourself, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “You look so fucking good,” you mutter.

She grins lazily, her fingers disappearing deeper beneath her shorts. “Keep going,” she says, her tone commanding. “Make me even wetter. Prove you’re worth fucking.”

You obey, diving back into your task with renewed determination. Her soft moans fill the room now, and every sound she makes sends shivers down your spine. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how easily she has you wrapped around her finger.

“God, you’re pathetic,” she murmurs, but there’s a heat in her voice that makes it sound like a compliment. “And you fucking love it, don’t you?”

You nod against her foot, her skin warm and soft against your lips. “I do,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “I love it. I love… you.”

She freezes for a moment, her fingers pausing their movements.

Then her smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Of course you do,” she says simply, her voice like velvet. “Now keep going, bitch.”

Your tongue glides across her toes, your saliva leaving them shiny and glistening. Yujin watches with a smirk that grows wider each time she flexes her foot and you eagerly follow, sucking and licking every inch. Her toes are damp, her skin slick and wet, and by now the faint taste of her lotion feels familiar on your tongue.

“Wow,” she says mockingly, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you? My foot’s fucking drooling, and you look like you’re ready to propose to it.”

You look up, her smug expression only making your cock twitch harder against the confines of your pants. Your lips hover over her big toe for a moment as you catch your breath, her words hitting something deep inside you.

“You want to keep going?” she asks, tilting her head as her fingers lazily tap against her thigh. “Or are you finally gonna admit how much you’re loving this?”

You don’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead, you lean down again, kissing the top of her foot, sucking on her toes, letting your lips linger longer this time. It’s humiliating, sure, but there’s something addictive about the way she looks at you, the way she controls every second of this.

After a while, she pulls her foot away suddenly, smirking when she sees the disappointment flash across your face. “Alright, enough foreplay,” she says, her voice playful but firm. “Take off your pants.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Pants. Underwear. Off. Now.”

Your hands hesitate at the waistband of your pants, but her sharp gaze cuts through any lingering doubts. You nod, fumbling as you undo the button and slide them down, your boxers following soon after.

The moment your cock springs free, Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, her cocky smirk falters. “Holy shit,” she says, her tone caught somewhere between surprise and appreciation. “For a loser virgin nerd, you’ve got a pretty big, thick cock. What a waste.”

You don’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed, so you just stand there awkwardly, your hands twitching at your sides as she leans forward slightly, inspecting you like she’s trying to decide what to do next.

“Alright,” she says, waving you back toward the bed. “Lie down. I wanna play with you a little first.”

You obey, climbing onto the bed, your heart racing as she stretches out on the opposite side of the bed. Her foot, still slick with your saliva, presses gently against the base of your cock. The sudden contact makes you gasp, and she giggles, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Damn,” she teases, slowly sliding her foot up along your length. “Look at you. You’re already leaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”

You bite your lip, your breath hitching as she presses her other foot against you, sandwiching your cock between both of them. The wetness from your earlier efforts makes every movement smooth and almost unbearably good.

“How’s that feel?” she asks, her tone mockingly sweet as her feet start to move, stroking you with slow, deliberate motions.

“F-fucking amazing,” you admit, your voice shaking.

She laughs, her toes curling slightly as she drags them up the shaft. “Of course it does. I mean, look at you—getting jerked off by my feet. Bet you never imagined this happening in your wildest nerdy dreams.”

You groan, your hips bucking slightly as her pace picks up. The wet glide of her skin against yours is intoxicating, every stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

“Stay still,” she orders, pressing her heel against your tip just enough to make you gasp. “You move, and I stop. Got it?”

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as you fight to keep yourself in place. “Y-yeah, I got it,” you stammer.

“Good boy,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension as her feet resume their slow, teasing movements.

The room fills with the obscene sound of her slick feet stroking you, the wetness amplifying every glide. She watches you intently, her lips curling into a smirk every time you let out a ragged moan or bite your lip to hold back a louder one.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her feet pressing tighter around your cock as she moves faster. “All that attitude earlier, and now you’re just a whimpering little mess. Bet you’d do anything I told you to right now, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

She grins triumphantly, her toes brushing against your tip in a way that makes your entire body shudder. “That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “You’re such a good little loser when you’re like this. Makes me almost want to keep you around.”

You groan, your hips jerking slightly despite her earlier warning. Her smirk widens as she presses her feet down harder, the added pressure making you gasp.

“Getting close already?” she asks, her tone dripping with amusement. “Wow, you really are pathetic. Guess I’d better slow down, huh?”

“Please don’t,” you beg, your voice breaking.

Her laugh is low and wicked as she leans back slightly, her feet never stopping their relentless motion. “I dunno,” she says playfully. “Maybe I’ll let you cum… if you beg me properly.”

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan. “Please, Yujin. Please let me cum. I’ll do anything you want.”

Her smirk softens into something almost approving. “That’s better,” she says, her feet stroking you faster now. “Now, let’s see just how much of a mess you can make for me.”

Yujin’s feet slide up and down your cock with maddening precision, the slick warmth of your spit coating every inch of her smooth skin. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, and her smug smirk only makes it worse. She knows exactly what she’s doing—driving you insane with a combination of physical control and that sharp tongue of hers.

“Look at you,” she says, her voice low and dripping with mockery. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart. You’re such a fucking mess.”

Your hands grip the sheets tightly, your breath coming in short gasps. “Y-Yujin…” you stammer, but she doesn’t let you finish.

“Don’t talk,” she snaps, pressing her toes against the sensitive tip of your cock. The pressure makes you moan loudly, your hips jerking against her feet. “Just moan for me like the desperate little virgin you are.”

The words even hit you with a certain impact, but the pleasure is too overwhelming for you to even protest. “I’m not—”

“Shut up,” she interrupts, her feet sliding faster now, the wet sounds filling the room. “Do you really think I believe that? You’re pathetic. A loser. But you’re my loser tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely audible.

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. Her hand disappears under her shorts again, and this time, she doesn’t bother to hide what she’s doing. Her fingers move rhythmically, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips rocking slightly.

“You like this, don’t you?” she says, her voice breathy but still full of authority. “Being under me. Being humiliated by me. You missed it, didn’t you?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t speak. She doesn’t let up, her feet sliding faster, her toes curling around you just right. “Answer me,” she demands.

“Yes,” you finally admit, your voice cracking as the confession spills out. “Yes, I missed it.”

Her grin widens, her movements growing more deliberate. “Missed what, exactly? Be specific.”

You groan, your head pressing back against the pillow. “I missed… I missed you,” you manage between ragged breaths.

“Missed me?” she repeats, her laughter soft and condescending. “That’s cute. But what about me, huh? Did you miss being humiliated? Miss the attention I gave you? Did you miss the way I used to push you around?”

Your chest tightens, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Yes! Fuck, yes, I missed it. I missed you. I missed… how aggressive you were.”

She lets out a low, triumphant hum, her hand moving faster under her shorts as she leans forward slightly. “You missed me putting you in your place, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, your voice desperate now.

“And now you’re here,” she purrs, her toes pressing down against the head of your cock, drawing a strangled gasp from you. “Completely under my control. Look at you, squirming under my feet like a little bitch. I bet you’re loving every second of it.”

“I am,” you admit.

“God, you’re such a loser,” she says, her feet sliding faster, the wet sounds growing louder. “But at least you’re my loser. Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love it,” you gasp, your body trembling as you edge closer and closer to release. “I love you, Yujin. Fuck, I love you.”

Her smirk softens slightly, just enough to make you wonder if she’s taking this all in stride or actually enjoying it as much as you are. Her toes curl around you again, and the friction pushes you right to the edge.

“Go on, then,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Paint my feet with your virgin load. Show me what a good little foot bitch you can be."

She speeds up her movements again, her feet working your shaft with practiced skill. The pressure builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. With a strangled cry, your orgasm explodes making you roll your eyes.

Your cock pulses violently as thick ropes of cum shoot out, coating her soles and toes in your hot seed. She doesn't stop moving her feet, milking every last drop from your twitching member as you shake and moan helplessly.

"Holy fuck, look how much you came," Yujin laughs, spreading her toes to watch the cum drip between them. "Guess you really did need this release badly. Been saving up all this spunk just for my feet, haven't you?"

You nod weakly, your body still trembling as the last waves of pleasure roll through you. She pulls her feet away, inspecting them with an amused grin before wiping them on the sheets.

“Hope you’re ready,” she says, her voice light but wicked. “We’re just getting started.”

The room feels heavy with the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of cum and sweat. You’re sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Before you can fully recover, she leans in.

Her face is so close that you can feel her breath on your lips, warm and teasing. Her eyes lock onto yours, a spark of mischief and something darker flickering there. Her lips brush against yours, just barely, a ghost of a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she whispers, her voice low and sultry, dripping with temptation.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.

She smirks, leaning back just a fraction. “Say it,” she demands, her tone sharp. “Say you belong to me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her eyes bore into yours. “I… I belong to you,” you stammer, the words feeling both foreign and natural in your mouth.

“Good boy,” she purrs, and then her lips crash against yours.

It’s electrifying. Her mouth moves against yours with a mix of dominance and hunger, her lips soft but demanding. The taste of her consumes you, your head spinning as her hand cups your jaw, holding you exactly where she wants you.

When she finally pulls back, your lips are tingling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. She studies your face with a satisfied smirk. “Was that your first kiss?”

Your face burns, and you nod, too embarrassed to speak.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, her voice filled with disbelief and delight. “Your first fucking kiss. God, you’re such a loser.” Her smirk deepens, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But you’re my loser...”

Her words make you shiver, and she leans in again, her lips hovering over yours. “Open your mouth,” she orders softly.

You obey, your lips parting instinctively, and she spits directly into your mouth. The warm, salty taste coats your tongue, and before you can even process it, her mouth is on yours again.

This time, the kiss is messier, wetter. Her tongue invades your mouth, exploring and claiming, and you can’t help but respond, your own tongue meeting hers in a clumsy but eager dance. Spit mixes and drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All that matters is her, the way she tastes, the way she’s completely consuming you.

When she finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking down at you with that same infuriatingly smug grin.

“Are you going to take everything I give you?” she asks, her voice low and demanding.

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your voice shaky but certain.

“Promise me,” she says, her tone softer but no less commanding.

“I promise,” you say, your eyes locking onto hers.

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head with a playful smirk. “God, it’s so fucking annoying how wet you make me. You’re such a pathetic little virgin, but you’re driving me insane.”

Her words send a fresh wave of heat through your body, and she sits up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She slides them down slowly, revealing her soaked panties, the fabric clinging to her skin.

“Your turn to please me now,” she says, pushing her panties to the side to reveal her glistening folds. The sight is mesmerizing, and your throat tightens as you take her in.

“If you eat my pussy well,” she continues, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself over you, “I might just reward you. But if you suck at it…” She smirks, her thighs flexing slightly. “Let’s just say I’ll be very disappointed.”

She shifts closer, her knees on either side of your head, her thighs framing your face. Her scent is intoxicating, heady and warm, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core.

“Are you ready to be squeezed by my thighs again?” she asks, her voice teasing but firm.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Good,” she says. “Now don’t disappoint me, loser.”

Yujin lowers herself onto your face slowly, deliberately, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against your lips for the first time. You’re instantly overwhelmed—her scent, her warmth, the slickness of her folds—it’s all so new, so intense.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Your tongue flicks out hesitantly, just barely brushing her, and you hear her scoff from above.

“Don’t just sit there, nerd,” she says, her voice sharp but tinged with amusement. “Start licking. God, do I have to teach you everything?”

You nod against her, your hands awkwardly resting on her thighs as you try to figure it out. “Yes,” you mumble, your voice muffled by her.

She lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching down to grab your hair and yank your head back slightly. “Fine. Listen up,” she commands. “Start with my clit. It’s the little nub at the top. Just lick it softly—don’t get all sloppy yet. Got it?”

“Got it,” you mutter, and tentatively, your tongue moves to where she’s directed. You find the sensitive bundle of nerves and give it a slow, deliberate lick.

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her voice softening slightly. “But don’t be afraid to use your whole tongue. Make it feel good for me.”

You nod again, more confident now, and start swirling your tongue around her clit, alternating between soft licks and gentle flicks. The reaction is immediate—her thighs twitch slightly against your head, and she lets out a low, pleased hum.

“Not bad,” she says, her voice teasing. “For a first-timer, anyway. Keep going. Use your lips too—suck on it a little.”

You obey without hesitation, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Her soft moan above you sends a rush of adrenaline through your system, and you grip her thighs tighter, wanting to hear more.

“Fuck,” she mutters, her hand still tangled in your hair as she starts to grind against your face. “You’re learning fast, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

Her words spur you on, and you press your tongue flat against her, licking her in long, slow strokes before returning to her clit. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, and you find yourself savoring the taste—warm, slightly salty, and completely intoxicating.

Her moans grow louder, but her tone remains dominant, even now. “Don’t get cocky,” she warns, her hips rolling against your mouth. “You’re doing okay, but I want more. Stick your tongue inside me.”

Your heart pounds as you comply, your tongue darting into her entrance. Her slick walls clench around you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You push deeper, your nose brushing against her clit as you try to keep up with her grinding.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she breathes, her dominant tone cracking just slightly as her pleasure builds. “You’re finally starting to get it. Keep going, don’t you dare stop.”

Her taste is addictive, her heat pulling you in, and you lose yourself in the act. Your hands slide up her thighs, holding her hips steady as you thrust your tongue in and out of her, your lips dragging against her folds with every movement.

“God, you’re such a little slut for me,” she says, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Getting addicted to my pussy, huh? I can feel it—you don’t want to stop, do you?”

You shake your head against her, your tongue never faltering.

Her laughter is breathy, almost ragged now. “Of course you don’t. You’re fucking addicted already. Good. That’s exactly where I want you.”

Her thighs tighten around your head, squeezing just enough to make you feel completely trapped beneath her. Her grinding grows more frantic, her slickness dripping down your chin, and you can feel her body trembling as she approaches her climax.

“Don’t stop,” she commands, her voice breaking into a moan. “Fuck, don’t you fucking stop.”

Yujin’s moans fill the room, soft and breathy at first but quickly growing louder, more desperate. Each sound she makes sends a surge of adrenaline through you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling against her clit, dipping into her soaked folds. Her taste is addictive, her slickness coating your lips and chin, and you’re completely lost in the moment.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hand gripping your hair tighter, her hips rolling against your face. “You’re actually good at this. Keep going, loser. Don’t stop.”

Her praise—if you can even call it that—makes your heart pound harder. You grip her thighs, your hands trembling slightly as you pull her closer, burying your face even deeper between her legs. Your tongue moves faster now, swirling around her clit before sliding down to tease her entrance.

“Goddamn,” she moans, her voice muffled as she bites her lip, clearly struggling to keep quiet. Her head tilts back, and her free hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit… I can’t—my mom—fuck, don’t stop, loser, just… don't go all out like that.”

You’re too focused to respond, your tongue pressing firmly against her clit as you suck gently, your lips dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her thighs clamp tighter around your head, and you can feel her whole body trembling, her hips grinding harder against your face.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mutters under her breath, her hand still covering her mouth as her muffled moans escape. “If they hear—fuck, it’s so good—I swear I’ll kill you if you stop now.”

You have no intention of stopping.

Her moans are your fuel, and you redouble your efforts, your tongue working furiously to push her closer to the edge. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking softly between strokes, and her reaction is immediate.

“Fuck!” she whispers harshly, her hips bucking against your face. “Right there—yeah, your tongue is perfect!"

Yujin’s thighs tighten around your head, the wet heat of her pussy pressing harder against your lips as her moans grow louder, more urgent. Every breathy whimper, every shaky sigh she lets out fuels you, pushing you to work harder, your tongue flicking and swirling with renewed determination.

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice cracking. Her hand flies to her mouth again, muffling her next moan. “God, you’re gonna get us caught, you idiot—” Her words cut off into a muffled moan as her hips grind harder against your face.

You don’t stop. If anything, her desperation spurs you on. You flick your tongue rapidly against her clit, sucking gently before dipping down to explore her folds, her slick juices coating your lips and chin. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.

“Fuck, fuck,” she mutters behind her hand, her thighs trembling against your head. “You’re actually—oh my god—you’re actually good at this.”

Her hips start moving erratically, grinding against your face with an urgency that makes your heart race. She’s close, you can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the way her moans pitch higher despite her efforts to muffle them.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers harshly, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of your tongue against her. “Fuck, don’t you dare stop—”

You tighten your grip on her thighs, holding her steady as you give it your all, your tongue focusing on her clit, flicking and circling as her grinding grows frantic. Her juices drip down your chin, warm and slick, and you don’t care about the mess—you’re too consumed by the need to push her over the edge.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice muffled but trembling. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her body stiffens suddenly, her thighs clamping tightly around your head as a muffled cry escapes her lips. Her hips jerk against your face, and you feel a rush of warmth as she cums, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin.

You keep going, your tongue moving gently now, lapping up every drop as she rides out her orgasm. Her hand falls from her mouth, and she lets out a shaky sigh, her body trembling above you.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, her voice raw and breathless. She shifts slightly, her thighs relaxing their grip on your head, and you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.

“You actually… you actually made me cum,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement. “I didn’t think you had it in you, loser.”

You manage a weak smile, your lips and chin still glistening with her juices.

She smirks, leaning down to wipe your chin with her thumb before sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. “Guess you’re good for something after all,” she says, her voice soft but teasing. “Now, lick me clean. Every last drop.”

Yujin slides off your face, leaving you breathless, her thighs glistening with her slick juices. She collapses onto the bed, spreading her legs lazily, her pussy still flushed and dripping. “Come on, you’ve got work to do,” she says, tilting her head toward her wet thighs. “Clean me up.”

You nod wordlessly, leaning in and pressing your tongue to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is soft and warm, her taste still fresh on your lips. You drag your tongue up slowly, savoring every drop, alternating between long licks and soft kisses.

Her fingers thread through your hair as she watches you work. “What do you think of my taste?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

You glance up at her, your lips brushing against the curve of her thigh. “It’s perfect,” you say, your voice full of reverence.

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, and she props herself up on one elbow. “Good boy,” she purrs. “You’ve earned a reward.”

Before you can ask what she means, she pulls her tank top over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts are revealed—average-sized, perky, with small, pink nipples that practically beg for attention. She lies on her side next to you, her body relaxed but her eyes sharp as she studies your reaction.

“First time seeing tits in real life?” she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and mockery.

You nod, your face flushing. “Y-yeah.”

She smirks, leaning closer. “You wanna touch them?”

Your throat feels dry as you nod again, unable to tear your eyes away from her chest.

“Ask nicely,” she demands, her voice taking on that commanding edge again.

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you say, “Yujin, can I… can I touch them, please?”

She grins, clearly enjoying your nervousness. “Go ahead,” she says, arching her back slightly to push her chest closer to you.

Your hands tremble as you reach out, your fingers brushing against her soft skin for the first time. The sensation is incredible—warm, supple, and completely new. You cup her breasts gently, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she lets out a soft hum of approval.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost tender.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be shy,” she says, her smirk returning. “You can squeeze them. Play with them.”

You obey, your hands moving more confidently now. You massage her breasts, your fingers exploring every curve and dip, your thumbs circling her nipples until they harden under your touch. She arches her back slightly, pressing into your hands, her breath hitching.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Now suck them.”

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, your lips wrapping around one of her nipples as your tongue flicks against it. She lets out a soft sigh, her hand resting on the back of your head to keep you in place.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. “You’re eager, huh? Like a starving puppy.”

Her words make your cock twitch, already rock-hard again. You switch to her other breast, sucking and licking with the same enthusiasm, your hands kneading her soft flesh.

She notices your arousal, of course, her hand trailing down your body until it wraps around your shaft. “You’re so fucking hard again,” she murmurs, stroking you slowly. “It’s almost pathetic how much you want this.”

You let out a muffled groan against her breast, your hips jerking into her hand as she strokes you with practiced ease. Her thumb glides over your tip, spreading the pre-cum leaking from you.

“God, you’re such a mess,” she teases, her voice full of mockery and heat. “But you’re my mess.”

Yujin’s fingers work your cock with a steady, teasing rhythm, her hand warm and slick from your pre-cum. Meanwhile, your mouth is still on her breasts, sucking and licking her hardened nipples with devotion. You feel intoxicated—her scent, her taste, the way she completely controls every second of this—it’s all too much, yet not enough.

You get carried away, your teeth grazing her nipple just a bit too hard. She gasps, her back arching, and suddenly her hand tightens around your cock, squeezing just enough to make you freeze.

“Hey!” she snaps, her tone sharp as her eyes narrow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t just bite a woman’s nipples like that.”

You pull back immediately, your face heating up. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking up at her.

She huffs, her fingers loosening but still holding you firmly. “God, you’ve got so much to learn,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What are you, a fucking caveman? Be gentle.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you say again, swallowing hard.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “At least you’re eager. I’ll give you that. But don’t fuck up again, or I might just leave you here with blue balls.”

You nod quickly, your lips returning to her breast, this time much more careful. She relaxes again, her smirk returning as her hand resumes stroking you. “That’s better,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “Good boy. Keep sucking.”

You lose yourself in the moment, your lips wrapping around her nipple, your tongue flicking and swirling while her hand works you faster. The combination of sensations is almost too much to handle, and you let out a muffled moan against her skin.

“God, you’re so fucking loud,” she mutters, her fingers sliding up to rub your sensitive tip. “If you keep making noises like that, they’re gonna hear us.”

She pulls back suddenly, her breasts leaving your mouth as she sits up, looking down at you with a wicked grin. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”

“Time for what?” you ask, breathless and dazed.

“For me to fuck you,” she says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”

She chuckles, leaning in close. “You sure?” she asks, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m not stopping until I cum, so you’d better keep up.”

“I’m sure,” you say, your voice trembling.

Her grin widens as she pulls away, finally standing up beside the bed. “Maybe it won’t be too hard,” she says, eyeing your cock. “With a dick that big, you might actually make me feel something.”

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down slowly, teasingly, until they fall to the floor. Her pussy is glistening, flushed and ready, and you can’t take your eyes off her.

“Open your mouth,” she commands suddenly.

You blink, confused. “What?”

She picks up her soaked panties and dangles them in front of your face. “You heard me. Open your mouth.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one gagged with them?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

She lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re adorable,” she says mockingly. “But no, loser. You don’t get to make the rules here. Now open up, or I’ll reconsider this whole thing.”

You hesitate for only a second before obeying, parting your lips.

“Good boy,” she says, smirking as she presses the damp fabric into your mouth. The taste of her is overwhelming—warm, musky, and undeniably intoxicating. “See? You love the way I taste anyway, don’t you?”

You nod, your cheeks burning as she climbs back onto the bed, positioning herself above you.

“Keep those in,” she orders, her hands planting on your chest as she straddles your hips. “I don’t want to hear a fucking peep out of you.”

Her wet folds brush against the tip of your cock, and the sensation is electric, making your whole body tense. She grins down at you, her eyes locking onto yours as she teases you, grinding against you without letting you inside.

“Ready, loser?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery and heat.

You nod frantically, muffled sounds escaping around the panties in your mouth.

“Good,” she murmurs, positioning herself before sinking down onto you in one slow, deliberate motion.

The heat and tightness of her envelop you completely, and the sensation is almost too much to handle. Your head falls back against the pillow, muffled groans spilling out as she bottoms out, her hips resting flush against yours.

“Fuck,” she mutters, biting her lip as she adjusts to your size. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

She starts to move, her hips rolling slowly at first, her wetness making every movement smooth and maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, her nails digging in slightly as she picks up the pace, riding you with a confidence that leaves you breathless.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” she moans.

Yujin's hips roll against you with an almost punishing rhythm, her wetness making every thrust slick and smooth. Her moans escape her lips in breathy, desperate bursts, and she bites her lip, trying and failing to keep them low. The whole scene feels unreal—Yujin, the girl who made your life hell in high school, is now on top of you, her pussy gripping you so tight it feels like she was made for this.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she rides you harder. “You’re actually doing it for me. Who knew this pathetic little loser would have such a good cock?”

You can’t reply, not with her soaked panties stuffed in your mouth, so you nod instead, your muffled groans mixing with the obscene sounds of her riding you.

Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her pace quickens. Her nipples, hard and pink, peek between her fingers as she teases herself, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside her.

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice sultry but still laced with that teasing edge. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? Your big bad bully fucking the shit out of you.”

You nod frantically, your eyes glued to her chest as her hands work her breasts.

“Thought so,” she purrs, smirking down at you. “Am I hot? Tell me I’m fucking hot.”

You nod again, your muffled voice straining around the fabric in your mouth.

She laughs breathlessly, her hips slamming down harder now. “God, you’re so easy. Just a big, dumb dick for me to use. And fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Her moans grow louder, and she presses one hand against her mouth, her other hand still massaging her breast. “Shit, I can’t be too loud,” she mutters, grinding harder. “Your dad and my mom would fucking kill us if they knew what we were doing.”

The thought of being caught only seems to turn her on more, her movements becoming more frantic as she chases her own pleasure. You’re completely at her mercy, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm, her thighs flexing as she rides you like she owns you.

But then she slows, her hands sliding down to your chest as she leans over you, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s change it up,” she whispers, her voice dripping with authority.

She pulls off you with a slick, wet sound, leaving you throbbing and desperate. Grabbing your wrists, she maneuvers you onto your back, your legs spreading awkwardly as she positions herself between them.

“This is called the Amazon position,” she says, her tone mocking as she smirks down at you. “You’re about to get fucked properly.”

She straddles your waist, your cock pressing against her soaked folds again as she grips your thighs for leverage. With one hand, she lines you up, her other hand pressing against your chest to keep you in place.

“Ready?” she asks, her smirk widening as she looks down at you.

You nod, your muffled groan turning into a desperate whimper as she sinks down onto you again, her pussy taking you in inch by inch.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her head tilting back as she adjusts to the new angle. “You’re so fucking deep like this. God, I might actually let you cum if you keep feeling this good.”

Her hands grip your thighs tighter as she starts moving, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. The position gives her complete control, and she takes full advantage, slamming down onto you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath you.

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Lying there like a good little toy, letting me use you. Bet you’ve never had a girl take charge like this, huh?”

You shake your head, your hands gripping the sheets as she rides you relentlessly, her moans filling the room despite her earlier efforts to keep quiet.

“God, you’re so fucking easy,” she pants, her movements becoming faster, more erratic. “I could do this all night. Fuck, I might have to—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this dick.”

Yujin’s hips roll and slam against you with abandon now, the room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of her pussy taking you over and over. Her breathing is heavy, her moans louder, no longer restrained. It’s as if she’s forgotten where you are—or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore. The way her nails dig into your chest, her thighs flexing with each thrust, tells you she’s chasing her high, and nothing else matters.

Your body arches beneath her, the sensation overwhelming, her wet heat gripping you so tightly it feels like she’s molding herself to your cock. You can’t help it anymore—the panties in your mouth feel suffocating. With trembling hands, you yank them out and gasp, your voice cracking as you moan, “Fuck, Yujin… this feels so good. I’m—I’m loving this.”

Her head snaps down, her eyes locking onto yours, a mix of dominance and amusement lighting up her face. “Oh yeah?” she pants, her pace not faltering for a second. “You love being fucked by me? You love being under me like this?”

“Yes,” you moan, your voice shaky but full of conviction. “I fucking love it.”

She laughs, low and breathless, her lips curling into that wicked smirk that’s burned into your mind. “Of course you do,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still slamming into you with precision. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets as her words send another wave of heat through you.

“Say it,” she commands, her voice sharp despite the tremor of pleasure in it. “Say you’re my little whore.”

“I’m your little whore,” you cry out, your voice cracking as her movements grow more frantic.

She bites her lip, her head falling back for a moment before she looks down at you again, her eyes burning with intensity. “Do I own you?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost intimate, but the demand in her tone is unmistakable.

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling. “You own me. I belong to you, Yujin.”

Yujin’s movements become erratic, her hips grinding down onto you with a desperate rhythm, her thighs trembling as she takes you deeper with every thrust. The Amazon position lets her dominate you completely, her hands pressing firmly against your chest for leverage.

The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy swallowing your cock echo in the room, mingling with her moans, which are growing louder and less controlled. She’s past caring about being overheard, her voice shaky and raw as her pleasure builds to a fever pitch.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her head tilting back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she loses herself in the sensation. “You feel so fucking good… I’m so close.”

Her thighs flex around your waist, her entire body trembling with the effort to ride you faster, harder. She leans forward, her face hovering inches above yours, her breath hot and ragged as she looks into your eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser,” she pants, her lips curling into a smirk even as her voice shakes. “But this cock… god, this cock is fucking perfect.”

You groan beneath her, your hands gripping the sheets as her pussy clenches tighter around you. The heat, the pressure, the way she moves—it’s all too much, and you can barely hold on as she takes you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her pace grows frantic. Her hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing her own nipples as she rides you like her life depends on it. “Don’t you fucking dare come now,” she orders, her tone desperate now. “Just… fuck, just stay right there.”

Her hips slam down onto you one last time, her body stiffening as she throws her head back with a loud, guttural moan. Her pussy clamps down around your cock, squeezing and pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs tremble violently, and her nails dig into your chest hard enough to leave marks as she grinds down onto you, riding out every last wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, her voice raw and breathless as her body jerks against yours. Her slickness floods around you, the heat of her orgasm soaking your thighs and dripping down onto the bed.

When she finally collapses forward, her chest pressing against yours, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She’s still trembling slightly, her pussy fluttering around your cock as the last aftershocks of her climax ripple through her.

“Holy shit,” she mutters against your neck, her voice low and hoarse. “That was fucking insane.”

You stay still beneath her, your cock still hard inside her as her slick heat surrounds you. She lifts her head after a moment, her smirk returning as she looks down at you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest.

“You didn’t cum yet, did you?” she asks, her tone smug.

You shake your head, your breath still uneven.

“Good,” she says, biting her lip as her hips shift slightly, her pussy still gripping you tightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Your cock is amazing.”

You smile weakly, your hands resting on her back as you catch your breath. “You’re… pretty amazing yourself,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

She chuckles softly, her breath warm against your skin. “Damn right I am.”

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies tangled, the post-orgasm haze making everything feel surreal. Especially Yujin, who is kissing you with a tenderness you would never expect from her.

Then, a sharp knock on the door shatters the quiet.

“Everything okay in there?” your dad’s voice calls out, muffled through the wood.

Your heart stops, and Yujin’s eyes snap open, wide with panic. She looks at you, mouthing, do something!

“Y-yeah!” you call back, trying to sound casual.

Your dad pauses for a moment. “I thought I heard a scream,” he says.

“Oh, uh, I'm watching a movie!” you blurt out, your voice cracking slightly. “That must’ve been it.”

“A movie?” he repeats, sounding skeptical.

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’ll, uh, turn it down. Sorry about that.”

There’s another pause before your dad finally says, “Alright. Just keep it down, okay? Yujin must be asleep already.”

“Okay, no problem!” you reply, relief washing over you as you hear his footsteps retreating.

You and Yujin stay frozen for a moment, then look at each other, wide-eyed. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face, and she starts laughing softly. You can’t help but join her, the tension melting away as you both dissolve into quiet, breathless giggles.

“You’re fucking insane,” you whisper, shaking your head.

She smirks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun,” she says smugly.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “What does it feel like?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer now.

“What?”

“Being fucked by a woman,” she says, her smirk returning. “What’s it like?”

You pause, your face flushing as you search for the right words. “It’s… the best feeling ever,” you admit. “Your pussy is so tight, it feels so fucking good.”

Her smirk widens, and she sits up slightly, her hands resting on your chest. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing. “Wanna see how my pussy grips your cock?”

Your breath catches, and you nod quickly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

She grins wickedly, sliding off you and turning around. “Alright then,” she says, positioning herself on your thighs in a perfect reverse cowgirl. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”

With that, she lowers herself onto you again, her wet heat enveloping you completely. The sight of her ass bouncing as she starts to ride you is almost too much to handle, and you grip her hips, your fingers sinking into her soft skin as she takes control once more.

Yujin’s hips move in slow, deliberate circles, her wet heat gripping your cock like a vice. From your vantage point, you have a perfect view of her pussy taking you in with every motion, clinging to you tightly as she lifts herself up and sinks back down. It’s mesmerizing—the way she moves is hypnotic, every roll of her hips precise and calculated.

Her head tilts back slightly, her hands braced on your thighs for balance, her breathing steady but filled with quiet moans. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding up to her waist and then lower to her ass. You can’t help yourself—you squeeze her buttocks, soft and fleshy, feeling the way they move under your hands as she rides you.

She chuckles breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Like what you see?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, your fingers digging into her skin as her pace remains maddeningly slow. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“I know,” she purrs, arching her back slightly to give you an even better view. “Keep talking, loser. I like hearing how much you love this.”

“You’re amazing,” you admit, your voice trembling. “The way you move, the way you feel… it’s fucking incredible.”

Her smirk widens as she lets out a low moan, her pussy clenching around you in perfect rhythm. “Of course it is,” she teases. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and now you finally know it.”

Your fingers tighten on her ass, your hips twitching involuntarily as she grinds down harder. The pleasure is almost unbearable, and then she slows again, her movements languid and torturous.

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice strained.

She glances back at you, her smirk turning wicked. “What?”

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your hands gripping her tighter.

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just enjoying myself.”

Her pace remains steady for a moment before she shifts her weight slightly, taking you deeper. Her wetness makes every movement smooth and slick, and the sound of it fills the room, mixing with your ragged breathing.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you want to cum inside me?”

The question jolts you, and your heart skips a beat. “W-what?” you stammer, staring at her in shock.

She giggles, rolling her hips in a way that makes your whole body shudder. “You heard me,” she says, her tone playful but teasing. “Do you want to cum inside me?”

“I… I can’t,” you say quickly, panic creeping into your voice. “You could get pregnant.”

Her laughter is wicked, and she glances back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, so you’re saying you’d like to get me pregnant, huh?”

“What? No!” you protest, your face burning.

“Think about it,” she continues, clearly enjoying your reaction. “The big, bad bully who made your life hell, walking around with your baby. Everyone would know it was you. Hell, I’d make sure they knew.”

“Yujin!” you groan, equal parts embarrassed and aroused.

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” she teases, her pussy tightening around you as she moves. “The thought of me, pregnant because of you. God, you’re such a perv.”

“It’s exciting, yeah,” you admit reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… no. I don’t want that.”

She laughs again, the sound rich and sultry. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “I’m on the pill, dumbass. I’ve been on it for a while.”

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “Why?”

“Maybe,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her hips still moving, “I was waiting for this moment.”

The idea sends a jolt of arousal through you, and your cock twitches inside her. “Fuck,” you mutter, your voice shaky. “If that’s true… then yes. I want to cum inside you. I really fucking want to.”

Her grin widens, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Of course you do,” she says smugly, her hands gripping your thighs as she picks up the pace.

Her hips slam down harder now, the rhythm more erratic as she chases both of your highs. The sight of her pussy taking you in, the sound of her moans mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin—it’s almost too much, but you manage to hold on, even as the pressure builds inside you.

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet,” she warns, her voice breathy but firm. “Not until I say so.”

Yujin’s movements grow frantic, her hips slamming down on your cock with an obscene rhythm. The sound of her ass smacking against your pelvis fills the room, wet and loud, accompanied by her uncontrollable moans. Her head tilts back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and you’re completely transfixed by the sight of her ass bouncing on your cock, jiggling with every violent thrust.

“Fuck, Yujin,” you gasp, your voice strained. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold out.”

She glances back at you, her face flushed and glistening with sweat, her lips curling into a devilish grin. “Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “You hold on. I need to cum again!”

You grip the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white as the pleasure builds to unbearable levels. She’s going wild now, her pace relentless, her moans louder and more desperate. Every thrust sends waves of heat coursing through your body, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Yujin,” you groan, your voice barely audible. “I’m gonna cum. I can’t hold it.”

She lets out a sharp cry, her nails digging into your thighs as she rides you harder. “No,” she barks, her tone commanding even as her moans turn ragged. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’ll wait. You’ll cum when I say you can.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to nod, your breath hitching as she continues to take you to your limits.

“That’s it,” she pants, her voice softening slightly. “You’re my good boy. You’ll wait for me. Just a little longer, okay? We’re gonna cum together.”

Her encouragement is intoxicating, and you fight to hold back, even as her pace grows more erratic. The wet sound of her pussy taking your cock mixes with the obscene slap of her ass against you, and you can feel her walls tightening around you, clenching rhythmically.

“I’m so close,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Hold on for me. Just a little more.”

Your body trembles beneath her, your cock throbbing inside her as she leans forward slightly, her nails dragging down your thighs. Her dirty talk spills from her lips in breathless gasps, driving you both closer to the edge.

“God, you’re so deep,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I can feel every inch of you, stretching me so good. You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your voice desperate.

Her smirk returns, her hips slamming down harder. “You’re gonna fill me up,” she murmurs, her tone filthy. “Mix your cum with my juices. God, I want it so bad. I want your thick, hot cum in my pussy. Are you gonna give it to me?”

“Yes,” you moan, your voice breaking as your grip on the sheets tightens.

She lets out a loud, shaky cry, her movements growing wild and uncontrolled. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, her head tilting back. “I’m cumming! Cum with me, baby, cum inside me!”

Her words are your undoing. Your body jerks beneath her as your orgasm crashes over you, and you let out a loud, guttural moan as you release deep inside her. Her pussy clamps down on you, pulsing and milking you for everything you have as she cries out, her body trembling with the force of her climax.

The two of you ride out the waves together, your bodies locked in rhythm as her walls squeeze you tightly, your cum flooding her. Her hips slow, her movements becoming more erratic as the last tremors of her orgasm roll through her. Finally, she collapses forward, her chest heaving as she rests against your thighs, her body still twitching from the intensity.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was… holy shit.”

You’re too spent to reply, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to catch your breath. She stays there for a moment before slowly sitting up, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face.

“Let’s see the damage,” she says, her tone playful but tired.

She lifts herself off you slowly, and you watch as your cock slips out of her with a wet, lewd sound. Thick streams of cum drip from her swollen pussy, trailing down her thighs and pooling on the sheets beneath her.

“Damn,” she murmurs, reaching down to swipe her fingers through the mess before holding them up to show you. “You really filled me up, huh?”

You nod weakly, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of her pussy still leaking your cum.

She grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Not bad for a loser,” she teases softly. “Not bad at all.”

The room is still, the air thick with the lingering heat of your bodies and the unmistakable scent of sex. Yujin sits beside you, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. You watch her, unable to tear your gaze away from the way her flushed skin glows under the soft light, her hair messy, her lips slightly swollen. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss her.

It’s not a tentative kiss this time. It’s intense, filled with every ounce of passion you didn’t know you had left in you. Yujin freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness, but she recovers quickly. Her lips move against yours, just as hungry as before, her hands cupping your face as if she’s trying to figure out what just got into you.

When you finally pull back, her eyes are wide, searching yours. “Wow,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit. “That was… the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Yujin chuckles, a low, lazy sound that warms the environment. “Not gonna lie,” she says, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I think I might agree with you on that.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t stop the words that come tumbling out next. “You look really beautiful right now,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

Her smirk returns, but there’s something softer behind it this time. “Careful,” she teases, tilting her head. “Are you falling in love with me or something?”

Your face burns instantly, and you fumble for a response. “No! I mean… I—uh, that’s not what I meant—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, loser. I’m just messing with you.” Her voice drops slightly, and she looks at you, almost shy. “But… maybe I like you too. Just a little.”

“Do you mean you like me now,” you ask after a moment, your voice hesitant, “or… did you like me in high school?”

She hesitates, chewing her lip as if deciding whether to answer honestly. “Yeah, since high school,” she admits finally, avoiding your gaze.

“But… then why were you so mean to me?”

She rolls her eyes, but her smirk doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “You only ever see the bad side of things,” she says, her tone playful but tinged with something serious. “Do you not remember how many times I kept other people from fucking with you?”

You blink, the memory surfacing almost instantly. A group of older guys had cornered you once by the lockers, shoving you around, but before things got worse, Yujin had shown up like a goddamn storm cloud. She’d sent them scattering with nothing more than a sharp glare and a few choice words.

“That was you,” you mutter, the realization sinking in.

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, that was me. Look, I’m not good at showing feelings, alright? My love language is… teasing. Irritating people. Making their lives hell. It's my defense mechanism. It's complicated to explain."

“So, what you’re saying is… the more you teased me, the more you liked me?”

Her face flushes, and she scowls, swatting your arm. “Don't feel special just because I told you this, dumbass.” She pauses, then mutters, “But… maybe.”

You grin, the bittersweet humor of it all settling over you. “That means you must have liked me a lot, then.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she leans in and kisses you again, softer this time.

When she pulls back, she stretches out on the bed, looking far too comfortable. “Let’s watch your stupid Lion King movie,” she says.

You blink at her. “Didn’t you just make fun of it earlier?”

She rolls her eyes. “I was teasing you, silly. Everyone loves Disney movies.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your laptop on the desk, but something nags at you. “Shouldn’t you go back to your room?” you ask, glancing toward the door. “What if your mom or my dad heard us?”

She smirks, unfazed. “First of all, your room is the last one in the hall, if they barely heard my screams before, they won't hear us now. Second, they both sleep like rocks. We’re fine.”

Her confidence is oddly reassuring, and you relax a little as she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

“What if they wake up early?” you ask, still not entirely convinced.

She snorts. “I’ll sneak back before they do. Relax, loser. I’m not leaving yet.”

The idea of her staying here, curled up next to you, makes your chest tighten in a way you don’t entirely understand. You glance down at her, and she catches your gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” she asks, her voice softer now.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but the small smile that tugs at your lips says otherwise.

“Okay, let's change these sheets before we watch the movie,” says Yujin clapping her hands and getting up from the bed. “You need to wash them in secret tomorrow, don't forget.”

—

After changing the sheets and Yujin brushing her teeth (and yes, she used your toothbrush), the two of you are in bed again, still naked, at Yujin's insistence. According to her, she loves the feeling of the soft blanket fabric against her bare skin.

You adjust the laptop on the bed, propping it up on a pillow so you both can see. "Alright, but if you start singing 'Hakuna Matata,' I swear..." you tease, giving her a playful nudge.

Yujin grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'll sing it alright. You'll be joining in by the end, just watch."

As the movie starts, you can't shake the surreal feeling of the whole situation. Here you are, watching The Lion King with Yujin, your new stepsister, both of you naked and sticky from what just went down.

It's fucking weird, but also... kind of nice.

You glance down at her, her head resting on your shoulder. Her eyes are glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks so different like this—relaxed, almost innocent. It's a far cry from the smirking, foul-mouthed girl who was jerking you off with her foot just minutes ago.

About halfway through the movie, you feel her hand creep onto your thigh, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. It's distracting, but you don't want her to stop. You cover her hand with yours, giving it a squeeze. She looks up at you, her smile softening even more.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. "Yeah, it is."

As the movie continues, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is fucked up, no doubt about it. But it also feels... right. Like this is exactly where you're both meant to be, at least for tonight.

You push aside the nagging thoughts about what this means, about what happens next. For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this strange, perfect little bubble you've found yourselves in.

As the credits roll, Yujin looks up at you, her eyes searching. "So, what the hell are we going to do with this?" she asks, her voice soft.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I don't know. But I'm glad you're here."

She smiles back, her hand squeezing yours. "Me too, loser. Me too.”

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purple-plum-petals · 3 months ago

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Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to an MC Who Is Cheerful and Oblivious ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Machete, Mr. Hood, Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Minor Spoilers for Homicipher (Mr. Scarletella’s Part), Minor Canon-typical Mentions of Violence. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,100 words. Request: “Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.” Author’s Note: This was such a fun request to think about since a human like this existing within the other world would pretty much be a living, walking target – like, you’d probably be dead so quickly if you were oblivious or naïve or too trusting (like me when I first played through the game and was smiling every time a hot monster man talked to me 😭). Since you didn’t specify any characters, I just picked a handful that I thought would have varying reactions to the type of reader you requested. I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

👣: Mr. Crawling loves your cheerful and friendly personality, finding it a breath of fresh air within the other world. It draws him to you even more, like a moth to a bright flame. He likes how you sometimes just randomly giggle or laugh. He does it, too, so it’s nice to meet someone so similar to him! He definitely feels this sense of kinship with you when he notices all the similarities you two share. Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to keep you safe, wanting to protect you from everything or everyone attempting to harm you in the hopes you don’t lose that sparkle – that light within you.

👣: He’s already very protective of you, and your obliviousness to the other world and its residents makes that feeling even stronger. He is aware that your friendly and trusting nature will be taken advantage of in the world he calls his home, so he somehow manages to take a more proactive role when it comes to keeping you safe… if that was even possible (it’s ON SITE if he sees Mr. Stitch near you. Mr. Crawling knows how that particular resident acts, and he would prefer not to have him kidnap or try to eat you…).

👣: Whenever you laugh, he also laughs – you do the same thing with him, too, so you both kind of bounce off of each other and act like the other’s personal echo. Any other resident who sees the two of you kind of thinks you have a few screws loose, watching from afar while you both just randomly laugh together without a care in the world. Honestly, Mr. Crawling thinks it’s nice to be able to laugh with someone else like this.

👣: Overall, your personality manages to make him love you even more (if that was even possible). Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to make sure you never stop smiling, never once making you feel like you’re not supposed to laugh even if it may not be seen as appropriate in the situation. He doesn’t care that sometimes your obliviousness results in both of you finding yourselves between a rock and a hard place. He will be there by your side until the day you tell him to leave – his love for you is unconditional, and that’s just a fact no matter what kind of person you are.

🗣️: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped also finds himself immensely endeared to you and your personality. He loves how happy you are all the time, and he finds his mood improving whenever you’re around, too! It’s wonderful to have someone like you around, someone who is always so cheerful and upbeat, especially considering the place you have found yourself trapped in. He appreciates it – appreciates you, as a whole – but that doesn’t mean he has no reservations about your personality…

🗣️: His anxiety spikes whenever he thinks too much about what you were potentially getting up to whenever he wasn’t around, worried about you getting taken advantage of or giggling at the wrong question and ending up injured, or worse, dead. He really enjoys spending time with you, you’re like a ray of sunlight in such a dark place, and the thought of that being gone after having just experienced it is… quite an unpleasant thought (he doesn’t know what sunlight is, but he can vaguely remember a yellow warmth from a time long forgotten that you remind him of). If he had a body, he’d probably be ripping his beloved hair out just because of how oblivious you can be.

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is definitely the type to just start scolding you point-blank, telling you that you need to be more careful – his beautiful hair is going to turn grey at this point with how often he worries about you! Please don’t make him worry… It’s not good for his metaphorical heart. He even lectures you about how he typically tells the difference between people he can trust (like you, Mr. Silvair, the Hairdresser) versus people he knows he can’t trust (like the Hooded Child or Mr. Stitch) in the hopes it will have you thinking about your safety more.

🗣️: Sometimes he feels a sense of helplessness whenever he thinks about you and the fact he can’t do anything to keep you safe; it’s something he opens up about to Mr. Silvair whenever you’re not around. Mr. Chopped finds himself wishing that he had a body, even though you had assured him he was perfectly fine in your eyes without one. He just wants to help and protect you the way that others you knew were capable of doing. Whenever you sense he’s feeling down, though, your bright smile is enough to wash away his worries about your well-being, even if only for a moment.

🔪: Doesn��t understand why you’re so chipper all the time. Honestly, I feel like Mr. Machete would find it annoying, the fact you’re always smiling or giggling at one thing or another. He’ll purposefully chuck his sword at you in the hopes that it will scare you, make you wipe that stupid smile off your face, but it never does… It falters a bit, sure, but it never fully goes away, and that just pisses him off more.

🔪: He kind of makes it his mission to try and break you, to see how or what he can do to finally make you get angry or upset. After all, you never really fight back when he tries to start things with you, and that’s boring. He wants you to get frustrated at him, wants to see you throw a punch or try to hit him after another attempt at making your smile disappear, yet you never do. You remain smiling, and you’re oh-so blinding whenever you do, and he hates it. He hates you (or does he? He isn’t even sure himself… emotions are too complicated).

🔪: Overall, Mr. Machete has mixed feelings toward you. He can respect the strength it takes to keep a smile on your face, to remain positive and happy in a place filled to the brim with violence and death… That doesn’t mean he likes it, though, hearing your laughter whenever he does something you find endearing or if you see something you find amusing. It’s a sound that's headache-inducing, yet it also makes him want to pick you up and squeeze you (I’m a firm believer that he would have cuteness aggression). He has a love-hate relationship with you.

🔪: Mr. Machete also finds himself fed up with your obliviousness and naïvety, especially regarding other residents. He’s getting sick and tired of you finding yourself in trouble and, when it finally sets in you’re in danger, you call to him for help. Why the hell are you calling for him? You got yourself into this mess, and you’ll figure out a way to get out of it… Well, that’s what he says, but he usually takes care of whatever resident you found yourself in a conflict with, or he tosses you effortlessly over one shoulder and absconds if he doesn’t think it’s a fight he can win (don’t ask him why he even bothers saving you – he doesn’t know the answer, either).

🪓: Your cheerful and peppy attitude, the way you’re always smiling brightly and warmly at everyone you meet, makes Mr. Hood feel both endeared to you and worried about you. You do realize you just agreed to give that resident your heart, right? If he wasn’t here, you most certainly would have died, and that’s not exactly a thought he wants to entertain. He felt protective over you since the first moment you met, and that feeling had not died down once (even if looking after you had made him feel like he’d aged a century).

🪓: Always places himself between you and other residents when you attempt to communicate with them, using himself as a shield just in case you accidentally agree to something absurd or laugh at the wrong thing. Mr. Hood really shifts into teaching mode after cases like these, making sure you know exactly what certain words mean and when not to laugh, smile, or blindly agree to things. Honestly, if you were oblivious and overly trusting, he would feel it was his duty to stay by your side at all times and would be worried about what would happen if he left you alone.

🪓: However, despite the persisting feeling of worry your personality and some of your traits bring him when watching you interacting with most of the other residents, he can’t help but enjoy your presence. It’s new, and he surprisingly likes hearing the sound of your laughter. He finds your personality and behaviors to be cute, even though they bring you trouble more often than not. Most of the time, sometimes unconsciously, Mr. Hood finds himself resting his hand on the top of your head, patting it softly whenever you look up and smile at him so brightly.

🪓: Mr. Hood, despite finding that your obliviousness and your inability to take most things seriously typically ends up with you winding up in troublesome situations that could have been easily avoided, he still wouldn’t change a single thing about you (he has no problem staining his hands with more blood to keep you safe – killing residents while protecting you at the same time is something he’s good at, after all). Your smile is just too bright, your laugh almost infectious, and all he wants to do is make sure it never fades. He feels a strange ache in his chest whenever you take his hands into yours and tug him along, laughing all the way. He doesn’t understand it, but he also doesn’t have the desire to understand it, either.

🩸: Your personality intrigues him, and he finds himself desiring to know what you’re thinking about. What makes you so happy? How can you continue to travel through the other world, facing one traumatic event after another, with a smile constantly plastered on your face? A person like you is new to Mr. Scarletella, and he wants to be around you more. He wants to figure out how he can be the person making you smile and laugh in such a way – he wants to be able to bathe in the warmth and brightness your aura radiates.

🩸: Mr. Scarletella doesn’t make his presence known most of the time throughout your journey, but he watches you from afar, keeping an eye on you. However, if he does need to step in to keep you from harm, he will. Your reaction to him is unlike anyone else he's met, though. Most people who saw the man with the red umbrella would scream and run the other way, terrified of the story that was intertwined with his existence, but you didn’t. Honestly, it makes him want you more – you’re new, you’re different – and he likes it… likes you. There’s something about the sound of your laughter and your happy-go-lucky nature that makes him feel alive, in a way.

🩸: However, because of your obliviousness and naïvety, when he asks for your name and you just give it to him without a second thought… well, it makes his goal a lot easier. If I’m being 100% honest, being oblivious or overly trusting around Mr. Scarletella is not a good mix. Because he finds you interesting and different from other humans he’s seen before, he’s pleased that you’re his now – heart, body, and soul. You forget everything about yourself after, though, and he doesn’t find you as appealing as he once did (he low-key kind of regrets asking for your name).

🩸: For feel-good purposes, though, we’ll just ignore the last point and continue with the fluff… So, overall, Mr. Scarletella would find you fascinating and would find himself wanting to be near you in any capacity, whether it be as your master or your servant, he wouldn’t care so long as he got to be with you. He honestly wonders how you’ve managed to live for as long as you have considering your general attitude towards most things, but he’s glad that you did. Being with you makes his lungs feel like they’re full of fresh air, and he gets a pleasant tingling sensation in his body whenever he hears your laughter echo through the dilapidated hallways of the other world.

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luveline · 11 months ago

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i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE

thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader

The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home.

The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean.

“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are.

“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!”

He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?”

“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.”

He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday.

Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so.

“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?”

“Am I ready? What did you want help with?”

You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.”

“You got me a cake?”

“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?”

“Will you sing?” he asks.

He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.”

You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin.

“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.

It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything.

He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.”

You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.”

Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“What?” he asks. “For what?”

“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.”

“The candles are perfect.”

You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?”

Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?”

“Good choice, handsome.”

His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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chimggukk · 2 months ago

Text

tits and bits ` jjk (teaser)

Synopsis: Your parents' long-awaited vacation is finally happening. The only problem? You're not invited. Is being excluded from your own parents' plans not enough? Now you have to stay with the Jeons for two months, especially their son. But did someone mention about your supposed love interest in him? Pairing: fuckboy!jkxoc Genre: exfriends to lovers, non idol au, friends au Rating: 18+ Word Count: 476 a/n: this is a teaser to my upcoming oneshot, work in progess. If you like this, please comment, I just wanna know if I should post this or not 😀🥰❣️

Slicing the apple into even pieces, Jungkook meticulously chops all the fruits one by one before arranging the freshly cut pieces onto the glass plate. Kiwis, apples, peaches, all the fruits and their peels sit separated on the kitchen counter as he remains engrossed in the task.

Hearing a faint voice trailing in his direction, he looks up to his right. Walking beside his mother, he spots you entering inside the living room with your laptop bag, handbag and a set of files in hands. Setting down the knife, he starts picking up the fruit peels before throwing them in the dustbin.

Turning off the stove, he carefully grabs a hold of the steel bowl with the table cloth before placing it on the counter as well. Freshly melted chocolate sitting in the bowl stares back at him as he arranges the fruits into the plates.

Plopping on the couch, you set your materials aside as he hears you chatting with his mother. Your tired, feeble voice sounds through the air as his ears shoot up. The small crack in your voice here and there was enough to indicate him that you had a pretty long day at work.

He had been noticing you growing busy for the past few days. Late nights and early mornings had been chipping away at your peace since the last weekend. Living under the same roof with each other was not either of you had expected. While he did expect you to grow hateful for him after all those years, he definitely had not expected you to deal with him so calmly and maturely.

Wiping his hands with the table cloth, he picks up the food tray before making his way towards the couch. Setting it down on the table, he smiles at you before greeting you with his usual sweetness.

Admiring the cutely cut fruit bites, your eyes sparkle in joy as he sneakily glances at you. Thanking him for his actions, you reach out for the fork before piercing it through the fruit, dipping them into the melted chocolate.

Smiling back at you in acknowledgement, he looks over to his mother as she props her chin slightly upwards, her eyes showing approval. Too busy to notice, you continue to dig into the sweet treats as Mrs. Jeon passes a small smile to Jungkook before leaving towards the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Jungkook's mother catches a glimpse of the burnt cookies sitting in the tray, hiding behind the stove. Shaking her head in disappointment for the umpteenth time, she takes them out of the spot before throwing them away.

Turning her head in his direction, she looks at Jungkook who seems eerily calm, as if he didn't almost set the cookies on fire.

"So.. you were going have cookies readily baked for me when I am back, where are they?"

#bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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moonlightwritingf1 · 10 days ago

Text

18 Minutes | LN4

۶•ৎ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N is terrible at time management and is chronically late to every event or meetup. She tries to change this habit. Lando and she make a deal: for every minute she is late to an event, he gets to edge her. And he’s clearly enjoying it much more than she is.

۶•ৎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

۶•ৎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.7k

۶•ৎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie, oral sex (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial

Based on this request.

Sitting on the edge of her bed in nothing but a robe, Y/N looked at the clock on her nightstand. She sighed. It was already 7:48 p.m., and they were supposed to leave by 7:30 to meet some of Lando’s friends at a new restaurant in Mayfair. He was in the living room, presumably checking his phone or messing around on social media to kill time. Maybe he was looking at track data or chatting with friends from Monaco—she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she’d promised him she wouldn’t be late again.

And she’d failed.

Her phone buzzed: a message from Lando, ever the tease even though they were just rooms apart.

Lando: You’re 18 minutes behind schedule. That’s 18 minutes of fun for me, by the way.

She groaned, reading his text. A few weeks ago, in a joking attempt to correct her chronic lateness, Lando proposed a playful deal: for every minute she was late, he’d get to ‘edge’ her for exactly that length of time. When he first suggested it, she’d rolled her eyes. But she also couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that lit beneath her rib cage. She’d agreed, partly amused and partly intrigued.

It turned out the idea was far more torturous (and exhilarating) in practice. The last time she’d been late by ten minutes, she’d ended up with shaky knees and breathy pleas by the end of it. Edging, as Lando was so gleefully discovering, was something that he enjoyed dishing out far too much. She claimed she hated it. She secretly loved it. The anticipation, the pleas, the electricity in the air—it was all so heady.

And it was about to happen again, for a full eighteen minutes if she didn’t hurry.

She hopped around her bedroom, rummaging for a pair of earrings. She quickly threw on her dress—a fitted black one with a modest neckline, long sleeves, and a playful slit up the side. The kind of dress that made her feel both comfortable and alluring. She grabbed her purse, threw on some quick lip gloss, and dashed out of the room.

She found Lando in the living room, leaning back on her couch, legs lazily stretched out, wearing a crisp white button-down and dark jeans. He had that faint smirk that made her stomach flip.

“Finally,” he teased, looking her up and down. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I know. Sorry. Ready?”

His smirk widened. “Eighteen minutes, love.”

Her eyes darted guiltily to the clock on the wall. “Couldn’t we just… skip it this time?”

He raised his brow. “Mm, absolutely not. A deal is a deal.”

—

Dinner was surprisingly smooth. Y/N smiled politely and answered as briefly as possible, reminding herself that at the end of the day, she was going home with Lando—and she knew how much he genuinely cared for her, far more than any shallow distractions.

A while later, dessert was served, and the conversation turned casual, filled with laughter and a few tipsy exchanges among the group. Y/N reached under the table to gently squeeze Lando’s thigh—a quiet thank-you for his constant support.

He met her eyes with a playful sparkle that seemed to say, “You’re welcome.” Then he nudged her knee with his, and she nudged back. This little silent exchange felt more intimate than anything else all night.

When dinner came to a close, they said their goodbyes, and Y/N felt a sense of relief heading out.

Once outside, Lando guided her back to the car. He started the engine and let it idle, turning to face her with a grin that made her cheeks burn.

She crossed her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “Stop looking at me like that. I know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed, low and warm. “Oh, I’m not sure you really know what I’m thinking. But I can guess you’re thinking about the arrangement.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she sank into the passenger seat. “It’s so unfair.”

“It’s completely fair. You agreed to it,” he countered, his tone playful yet firm.

Biting her lip, she turned her head to stare out the window. The city lights whirled around them. She felt the tension spark in the enclosed space, his presence so near. His hand settled on her thigh. She could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her cheek.

“You can’t back out now,” he said softly, his touch trailing a small circle on the thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart thudded. As much as she dreaded the torturous wait, her body lit up at the thought of his hands, his lips, his voice at her ear drawing out every sensation until she could barely stand it. A shiver raced through her.

She turned and met his gaze. “Let’s go home,” she whispered.

Back at her flat, the moment they stepped through the door, Lando wasted no time. He pressed her against the entryway, one hand braced against the wall near her head, the other tilting her chin toward him. His lips hovered over hers, teasing, not fully claiming her mouth.

“Eighteen minutes,” he recalled, voice husky.

She breathed out shakily, her hands sliding up his chest. “You actually timed me?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Of course. It’s a matter of principle now.”

His breath ghosted over her lips, and she parted hers, expecting a kiss—but he pulled back at the last second. That made her let out a small whine in protest, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Gently, he took her hand and led her down the hallway to her bedroom, which was dimly lit by a small lamp on the dresser. The familiar environment, the hush of the late hour, and the pounding of her own heart made everything feel heightened. She was acutely aware of how close he was, how every subtle shift of his body seemed to radiate warmth.

He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He stayed standing, looking down at her with that signature cocky tilt of his head. “I’m going to set a timer,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Eighteen minutes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her grin betrayed her excitement.

He bent down, brushing his lips just once, featherlight, over hers. “You love it,” he teased, then reached behind her to place his phone on the nightstand. She heard a soft chime as he presumably set an alarm to go off.

She swallowed hard. “And what if I try to… shorten it?”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent another wave of warmth through her. “Good luck, love. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten better at making you wait.”

The bedroom seemed smaller than usual, the air thick with anticipation as Lando stood over her, his gaze sharp yet playful. Y/N’s heart raced as she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets nervously. She knew what was coming, and though she’d never admit it out loud, the thought of it sent a thrill through her body.

“Eighteen minutes,” Lando murmured, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing against her skin. He reached down, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “I’m not going to make it easy? You’re the one who came up with this… this torture.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Torture, huh? Funny, because from where I’m standing, you seem to enjoy it just as much as I do.”

Her lips parted to argue, but he silenced her with a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her—it never was with him—but it was enough to make her toes curl and her breath hitch. When he pulled away, she instinctively leaned forward, chasing his lips, but he took a deliberate step back, his smirk widening.

“Oh no, love,” he teased, holding up a finger. “You’re not getting off that easy. Eighteen minutes. Every. Single. One.”

She groaned, letting her head fall back in mock exasperation. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are, still with me.” He knelt down in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs and pushing her dress higher. His touch was deliberate, slow, and Y/N couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. “Now, let’s get started.”

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh, the contact featherlight but deliberate, the faintest pressure that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening in the sheets as he lingered there, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. Slowly, as if savoring every millisecond, he pressed another kiss just slightly higher, his tongue darting out to graze the surface in a way that made her legs quiver.

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in with enough force to keep her grounded but not enough to hurt. He held her still, his grip firm yet controlled, as he dragged his lips farther up her thigh, each kiss a slow, torturous progression. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the ache growing with every passing second, but he was methodical, unhurried, his every movement calculated to keep her on the edge.

Just when she thought he might finally close the distance, he paused, his lips hovering just above where she wanted him most. He exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of need crashing through her. She arched her back, silently pleading, but he chuckled low, the sound reverberating against her skin.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained hunger, before he pressed a lingering kiss to the other thigh, starting the agonizing process all over again.

Her breath hitched, a frustrated whine slipping past her lips as he pulled back, denying her once more. Heat pooled in her stomach, the fire building to a nearly unbearable level, yet he stayed just out of reach, leaving her trembling and desperate, the promise of release taunting her with every breath he took. His hands shifted, his thumbs brushing in slow circles against her hip bones, and she could feel the tension coiling tighter, tighter, threatened to snap with one more touch, one more kiss—but Lando wouldn’t crack. Not yet. Not while the timer still counted down.

The heat of his mouth pressed against the damp fabric of her underwear, and Y/N gasped, her hips instinctively lifting toward him. His hands held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding, as he kissed her through the thin barrier.

“Lando,” she whispered, the word trembling on her lips. His name was a plea, a prayer. His lips moved deliberately, each kiss leaving behind a trail of fire, until her underwear was soaked, clinging to her skin, and still, he didn’t stop.

“Mm, you’re dripping already,” he murmured, his voice rough. He paused to glance up at her, his smirk wicked. “What do you want, love?”

She shook her head, unable to voice it, but her body answered for her: her legs parted wider, her hips arching closer. He chuckled, low and knowing, before sinking his fingers into the sides of her underwear and pulling them down in one slow, torturous motion. The cool air kissed her heated skin, but it was his gaze that burned, his eyes raking over her as if memorizing every detail.

His lips pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she gasped, her fingers twisting into the sheets. He lingered there, his breath hot, before moving higher, his mouth trailing a slow, deliberate path toward her center. Each kiss was a tease, a promise he wasn’t ready to fulfill just yet. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve where her thigh met her hip, and she shuddered, her legs trembling beneath him.

He kissed lower, his lips brushing over the delicate crease of her pubic bone, and she let out a sharp, desperate sound, her hips lifting instinctively. But he didn’t stop there. His mouth moved with agonizing slowness, kissing every inch of her, his lips grazing the swollen, aching flesh of her pussy. She could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his lips now, slick and warm, and the sensation made her head spin.

His tongue darted out, teasing her clit with the lightest touch, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed. He chuckled, low and dark, before pulling back, leaving her trembling and desperate. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. His lips returned to her inner thighs, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, as if savoring every second of her torment. The heat between her legs was unbearable, her body begging for release, but he kept her on the edge, his every touch a cruel, delicious reminder of what she couldn’t have—yet.

His tongue finally made contact, a slow, deliberate drag through her slick folds that had her gasping, her body twitching involuntarily. He didn’t rush, didn’t give her the relief she craved. Instead, he let the flat of his tongue glide over her entrance, pressing just enough to make her hips jerk toward him, but not enough to satisfy the ache that had been building since he first knelt between her thighs.

Her breath hitched as he lingered there, his breath hot and wet, the faintest puff of air brushing against her sensitive skin. His tongue teased at her entrance, a soft, insistent dip that made her whimper, her fingers clawing at the sheets as if they could anchor her against the tidal wave of sensation crashing through her. He flicked his tongue against her clit, light and quick, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed, her insides coiling tighter.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles around her clit, each swirl sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. She could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting, her body right on the edge of release. But just as she felt herself tipping over, he pulled back, his lips pressing a soft, torturous kiss to the swollen bundle of nerves instead.

Her hips lifted, desperate, pleading, but he held her down with one firm hand on her stomach, his other gripping her hip to keep her still. His mouth moved lower again, his tongue tracing the outline of her entrance, his lips kissing the slick skin as if savoring every drop of her arousal.

He was relentless, his tongue flicking against her clit in quick, teasing strokes one moment, then flattening against her in slow, languid laps the next. His breath hitched against her, warm and uneven, and she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself back even as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling like she’d run a marathon. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, her knees pressing together as if to trap the sensation, to hold onto the fleeting euphoria he denied her.

His tongue circled her clit again, the pressure just enough to make her cry out, her body tightening like a coiled spring. But he stopped, his lips hovering just above her, his breath hot and ragged, leaving her on the edge of release, suspended in a state of agonizing bliss.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice ragged, her nails digging into her own palms. “Please...”

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Not yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers again, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

But the timer wasn’t up, and neither was he.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice broken. “Please, I’m so close. Just—just let me—”

Lando leaned back, licking his lips as if savoring her taste, a glint in his eye that was pure mischief. “Not yet, love. Eleven minutes left.”

“No,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, her body still coiled tight, wavering on the edge. “You can’t—you didn’t let me—“

“Exactly,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. Her hands reached for him, but he caught them easily, pinning them back against the bed. “You’re a menace,” she muttered, but the way she said it—breathless, charged—gave her away.

He grinned. “And you’re mine. Now be patient. I’m not done with you yet.”

She didn’t respond, mostly because she knew he was right. There was something intoxicating about the way he controlled her pleasure, the way he could reduce her to a trembling, begging mess with just a few touches. She hated how much she loved it.

Lando’s lips found hers again, this time more demanding, and she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. He deepened it, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking involuntarily, but he pulled away again, leaving her breathless and desperate.

“Still ten minutes,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “Think you can last?”

She glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grinned, his hand slipping between her legs and teasing her with featherlight touches. “Guilty. But can you blame me? Look at you—beautiful, writhing, completely at my mercy. How could I not enjoy it?”

Her breath hitched as his fingers found her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She arched into his touch, her hips moving of their own accord, but he pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping for more. She could see the amusement in his eyes, the way he reveled in her frustration, and it only made her want him more.

“What’s the matter, love?” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Promises, promises.”

Before she could retort, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her head spin. She let herself get lost in the kiss, in the way his body pressed against hers, but just as she was starting to lose herself, he pulled away again, leaving her panting and frustrated.

“Nine minutes,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. “Think you can hold out?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin. “Good girl.”

His lips left her neck, and she felt the shift in his weight as he stood. Her eyes fluttered open, watching as he unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the sound of leather sliding through the loops sending a shiver down her spine. He pushed his trousers down just enough to free himself, and her breath hitched at the sight of him—hard, thick, and already glistening at the tip.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt between her legs again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself. The head of his cock brushed against her clit, slick with her arousal, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

He didn’t push in. Not yet. He dragged the tip of his cock back and forth over her swollen clit, the friction maddeningly light, teasing her until she was squirming beneath him. Her hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he continued to torment her.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He chuckled, low and dark, his grip tightening on her hips. “You need what, love? Tell me.”

She whimpered, her body trembling with need. “You. Inside me. Now.”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and finally, finally, he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her open inch by agonizing inch. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her nails digging into the mattress as he filled her completely. He paused there, buried deep, and she could feel every pulse of him inside her, the way her walls clenched around him, desperate for more.

“Lando,” she whined, her hips lifting instinctively, trying to coax him into moving. But he stayed still, his hands holding her firmly in place. “Move. Please, move.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Patience, love. We’ve got time.”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. “You’re killing me.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and finally, finally, he began to move. Slowly. Painfully slowly. He pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside her before pushing back in with that same torturous pace. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, designed to drive her wild without giving her the release she craved.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with every slow, deep stroke. She could feel every ridge, every vein of him as he moved inside her, stretching her, filling her in ways that made her head spin. Her hands reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, anything to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation.

“Faster,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Lando, faster.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Not yet. You’re doing so well, love. Just a little longer.”

She whimpered, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his pace unchanging. Every thrust was a tease, a promise of what was to come, but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Lando,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t—I need—”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her pleas as he continued to move inside her, slow and deep, driving her closer and closer to the brink. And when he finally picked up the pace, it was only to leave her hanging once more, right on the edge of ecstasy, completely at his mercy.

His thrusts deepened, quickened, the rhythm shifting from slow and deliberate to something harder, more urgent. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, her moans rising with every snap of his hips. She was close—so close—her body tightening, her breath hitching as she wobbled on the edge. And then he stopped. Just like that. He froze, buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls as she clenched around him, desperate for release.

“No,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Lando, please—don’t stop. I’m so close. Please, just let me—”

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice low and teasing. “Not yet, love. Five minutes left.”

She whimpered, frustration bubbling up in her chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Forget the deal. Just fuck me. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and amused, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still. “You know I can’t do that. A deal’s a deal. Besides...” His smirk widened as he stayed buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls, unmoving. “I love seeing you like this. Begging. Squirming. Completely at my mercy.”

Her eyes flashed with defiance, and before he could react, she squeezed her inner muscles, clenching around him with everything she had. The pressure was sharp, electric, and his cock twitched in response, throbbing hot and heavy within her. She watched his jaw tighten, the amusement in his eyes flickering for a split second.

But he caught himself, his hand darting between her legs, fingertips brushing her swollen clit to stop her. “Nice try,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. He shifted back, kneeling up slightly but keeping himself inside her, his cock still stretching her wide. He gripped the base of himself, stroking slowly, slick with her arousal, as if taunting her with what she couldn’t have. His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting. “You think squeezing around me will make you come? Clever, but not clever enough.”

She glared at him, her body trembling with the effort it took not to buck her hips, but she didn’t respond. Her defiant silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Finally, he pulled out completely, leaving her empty and aching, his cock glistening with her wetness as he knelt between her thighs. “Four minutes,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he began to stroke himself with agonizing slowness. “Think you can last?”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need as she closed her legs. "You're impossible."

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down but deliberately staying just out of reach. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Now, spread your legs for me. You’re not allowed to cheat your way out of this.”

When she hesitated, his free hand slid to her thigh, pushing it open with firm, deliberate pressure. His cock twitched in his hand, the tip glistening as he stroked himself again, teasing her with the sight.

She glared at him, but her breath hitched—a telltale sign that she was hanging on his every movement.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb flicking over her clit once more before he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now, let’s make those last four minutes count.”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, hot and demanding, while his cock pressed against her clit, the friction maddeningly light. She arched into him, her hips lifting off the bed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, her voice ragged. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He kissed her again, silencing her pleas, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His cock rubbed against her clit in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to make her whimper but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Three minutes,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Think you can last?”

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “No. I can’t. Please, just let me come.”

He chuckled, low and dark, his lips brushing hers again. “Almost there, love. Be patient.”

Her hands fisted the sheets, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his touch firm and controlled. Every brush of his cock against her clit sent jolts of electricity through her, the sensation building, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might explode. But he didn’t let her. Not yet. Not until the timer went off.

He pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a soft, teasing pop. Her eyes fluttered open, confused, as he shifted his weight off her and knelt between her legs. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin flushed and gleaming under the dim light.

Lando’s hand wrapped around his cock, slick and throbbing, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze locked on hers. His eyes raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs trembled as they spread wider for him. But it was her pussy that held his attention, glistening and soaked, needy and waiting.

She whimpered, her fingers clawing at the sheets as she watched him. The sight of his cock in his hand, stroking steadily over her dripping core, sent another wave of arousal crashing through her. She could feel the heat building, the ache growing unbearable. “Please,” she begged, her voice shaky, almost hysterical with need.

“Almost there, love,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing, his eyes dropping to where his cock nearly brushed her clit with every slow stroke. He tilted his head slightly as if studying her, his smirk widening at the flush spreading down her chest, the way her legs twitched with every agonizing pass of his hand.

She arched her back, her hips lifting instinctively toward him, desperate for contact. But he held himself just out of reach, his strokes deliberate now as if pushing her closer. “Look at you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Soaked. Begging. Mine.”

Her breath hitched, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to stifle another whine. His thumb circled the swollen head of his cock once before dragging it down, the tip brushing against her clit so lightly it was torture. A small cry escaped her, her fingers gripping the sheets tighter. She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

The timer’s chime shattered the heavy silence, loud and sharp. Y/N gasped, relief and anticipation flooding her system. Lando didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hips firmly, positioning himself at her entrance, and plunged into her in one deep stroke.

She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her walls clenching around him as he filled her completely. He didn’t waste time. His thrusts were hard and merciless, each one driving her higher, sending sparks shooting through her veins. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked her with relentless abandon.

It didn’t take long. Three thrusts in, the pressure inside her snapped, and her orgasm crashed over her in blinding waves. She screamed his name, her body convulsing around him, her legs trembling uncontrollably as pleasure consumed her.

It didn’t take long. The moment he buried himself inside her, the tension that had been coiling in her core for what felt like an eternity snapped. On the third thrust, her body gave in completely, and her orgasm tore through her with a force that left her breathless. She screamed his name, her voice raw and unfiltered, as waves of pleasure crashed over her, one after another, relentless and all-consuming. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, her legs trembling uncontrollably as her walls clenched around him, milking every inch of his cock.

Lando groaned, deep and guttural, his grip on her hips tightening to the point of pain as he felt her convulse around him. His rhythm faltered for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of her release, but then he surged forward again, driving into her with renewed urgency. Four, five, six thrusts—each one deeper, harder, more desperate than the last—and he came with a growl that seemed to rumble from the very depths of his chest. His release spilled into her in hot, pulsing waves, filling her completely as his hips jerked against hers, prolonging the sensation for both of them.

He collapsed onto her chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his skin slick with sweat as it pressed against hers. Their heartbeats pounded in unison, a chaotic rhythm that slowly began to steady as the aftershocks of their shared climax ebbed away. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling together in the aftermath of the cruel, delicious game they had just played.

Her breath was still ragged, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Lando’s weight pressed into her, his skin hot against hers, but the tension had melted into something softer, more intimate. Her fingers absently traced the curve of his shoulder, her body still trembling with the remnants of her release. He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing her shoulder in a slow, lingering kiss that made her shiver.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her voice uneven, throat raw. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied, his breath warm against her skin. “Good to know I’m still capable of surprising you.”

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a half-hearted glare. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m low-key annoyed at you for making me wait that long. Like, genuinely. Didn’t think you’d actually go full eighteen minutes. Torture much?”

He grinned, unapologetic, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on, love. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you agreed to the deal. And let’s be honest—you loved every second of it.”

She groaned, swatting at his chest weakly. “I’m never admitting that out loud.”

His smirk widened as he shifted slightly, nudging her legs apart to rest more comfortably between them. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it.” His hand trailed down her side, fingertips brushing over her ribs in a way that made her shiver. “Maybe this’ll be the motivation you need to stop being late to everything. Because, trust me, if you keep testing me like this, I’ll only get better at edging you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck gave her away. “Oh, so now you’re threatening me? Classy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a teasing kiss. “Not a threat, love. A promise. So, what’s it gonna be? On time from now on? Or... more of this?” He punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips, his cock still buried deep inside her, and she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.

“You,” she said breathlessly, “are the worst.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, “you’re not saying no.”

She let out a laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained, and he pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. “Fine,” she said finally, her tone mock-defeated. “I’ll try to be on time. But if I’m late again, you better be ready to deliver. That was... intense.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and warm. “Oh, I’m always ready, love. And next time, we’ll make it even better.”

She groaned, but her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was less teasing and more heated. He smiled into it, his body pressing into hers as he murmured, “Eighteen minutes very well spent.”

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