#this. this is what i love about their dynamic.

[mercvry-glow]

all that gleams (18+)

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. everyone seems to be hitting on you tonight, and your husband doesn't seem to appreciate all of the attention you're getting.

warnings. this is 18+ so mdni, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough/jealousy sex, half plot/half porn, sex in the work place, hospital setting, age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s to early 30s), reader gets hit on by men who are not jack, non-consensual touching (patient grabs reader), reader has hair, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. where the fuck do I even begin? uhhhh- so many people asked for a sequel to all that glitters and I never thought I'd actually do it but here we are! I absolutely live for their dynamic, and they're softcore rich which is truly the dream. I'm actually really proud of this, especially bc this is my second time writing any form of smut! as always any and all feedback is appreciated and please enjoy!

wc. 4700+

all that glitters

There wasn’t a person in your life who hadn’t told you getting married so young was a mistake. A newly minted nurse with a shiny new degree, a big diamond ring, and a big house in the nicest part of town—people loved to talk. And they did, especially behind your back.

“Too fast,” they said

“Too young.”

 “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

But they didn’t know Jack.

He’d been your constant through it all. Through the twelve-hour shifts, the night terrors you both had but didn’t always talk about, the tangled mess of silky bed sheets and plain coffee mornings. He never missed a beat, not with you. He always made sure the front door was locked, that you didn’t forget to eat, that you never had to face a bad day completely alone.

Jack Abbot was your storm and shelter all at once.

Still, some days it felt like you were speaking two different languages. You’d grown up with champagne brunches, sorority sisters, and an Ivy League education on Daddy’s dime. Jack grew up fast though—boots on the ground, blood on his hands, and scars no one could see unless he let them. 

His world had edges, and darkness only he could understand. 

Yours had comfy throw pillows and a walk-in closet.

Falling for each other had been a whirlwind, but staying in love… that took work. 

Especially now.

Lately, every conversation felt like walking on eggshells. He was short with you. Distant. And maybe you were a little more sensitive than usual—he always said you felt deeply, cared too much. Maybe you did miss the way he used to look at you, touch you, talk to you like you were the only person in the room.

Now? Now he was somewhere else—lost in his head, behind some wall you couldn’t climb no matter how hard you tried.

And you still tried.

 You showed up to work, same time as him, hair curled, and lip gloss on as usual. Your scrubs were still fitted just right, your badge reel sparkled, and your sneakers matched your pastel compression socks of the day. You were tired, overworked, and emotionally frayed—but damn it, you still tried, for yourself, for him, and most certainly for your patients .

He didn’t even say “Hi,” when you checked in.

Just a curt nod, eyes already scanning a trauma sheet.

Fine. You had a job to do anyway.

The ER was chaotic, as usual. You floated between rooms, upbeat as always, soft-voiced with your patients, making the new interns laugh with your sparkly pens and habit of humming softly under your breath.

That’s when he showed up.

Leo, tall, handsome in a sun-kissed, ex-lifeguard in the Baywatch kind of way, and new. The latest temp nurse from another hospital, and definitely not shy.

“You always this put-together at 7 p.m.?” he said, grinning as he helped you restock the IV cart.

You glanced up from your clipboard, smiling just enough. “Only when there’s new employees to impress.”

He laughed, nudging your elbow. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Across the hall, you didn’t see Jack. But he was seeing everything.

You caught a flash of movement in your peripheral vision—him, leaning against the med station, pretending to read a chart. The way his jaw clenched was less than subtle. So was the way he suddenly had something urgent to discuss with Dr. Reese, right behind where you were standing.

You didn’t react. Just went back to scanning meds, asking Leo if he needed help finding anything on his first night. You were being polite. Friendly. Maybe a little intentionally oblivious—but only because it felt good to be noticed by anyone today.

Jack didn’t say a word.

But every time you turned around, he was there. Close. Watching.

He didn’t like it. You could feel it.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt something that wasn’t just disappointment.

You felt giddy.

You weren’t trying to make him jealous.

But if he was suddenly remembering the woman he married? The one who lit up a room? The one who still wore t-shirts to bed and nothing else, even when he acted like he didn’t care?

Good.

Let him remember.

The next few hours passed in a blur of motion and monitors—IVs, trauma alerts, vitals to chart and families to console. You stayed busy, focused, but not so focused you didn’t notice the way Jack kept drifting into your orbit.

Not close enough to talk.

Just… there.

Lingering near the nurse’s station when you laughed at something Leo said. Answering the trauma bay calls himself when you usually did first. A silent presence, watching without watching, always just a little too close not to be intentional.

There had been so much to do between learning about coworkers drama, taking care of patients, and dealing with incoming traumas that you’d been on your feet for almost seven hours straight before getting any sort of break.

Still not having found the right time to touch the overnight oats in your lunchbox.

Typical.

You finally ducked into the break room around 2:30 a.m., practically vibrating from a bit too much caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Your sneakers squeaked on the tile as you opened your lunch tote, pulling out your jar with a satisfied “Aha”. You gave it a little shake and popped the lid, the faint scent of almond butter and cinnamon curling into the air.

Leo was already in there, lounging in the corner with a Coke Zero and half a sandwich he didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

“That looks suspiciously healthy,” he said, eyeing your jar like it confused him.

You grinned. “It’s delicious. Cinnamon, chia seeds, oat milk, with a little bit of honey and almond butter. You should try it sometime—maybe it will lower your blood pressure.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s cute and judgmental.”

You wiggled your spoon at him. “I’m not judgmental. I’m just stating a fact,”

“Same difference,”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled on the couch. Your big water tumbler clinked softly on the table as you set it down. Leo glanced at it.

“Okay, real talk. How many cups do you own?”

“Oh at least ten,” you said proudly. “And yes, they all match my scrubs and socks.”

He chuckled. “Of course they do.”

You were in the middle of telling him about your latest homemade electrolyte concoction—something with sea salt, lemon, and maple syrup—when the door creaked open.

Jack stepped inside, silent as ever. No one noticed at first, but you felt him before you saw him. That familiar pull.

You looked up and smiled, just a little.

He didn’t smile back.

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out a pod of instant coffee, and started making the world’s saddest cup of caffeine.

“You good?” you asked, casually, spoon still dangling from your mouth.

Jack shrugged. “Fine.”

Leo gave him a nod. “Rough night, man?”

“Same as every night,” Jack said coolly.

There was a pause.

You went back to your oats.

Leo leaned over slightly, stage-whispering, “Is it true you color-code your vitamins?”

You lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You have to! It’s so satisfying.”

Jack let out a breath—not quite a sigh. Not quite anything.

Just something.

Leo turned to him. “She’s kind of a fairy, huh? Healthy, pretty, and scary organized.”

Jack didn’t answer. Just stirred his coffee with the kind of force that made the spoon clink too loudly against the mug.

“I mean, who even makes time for meal prep on night shift?” Leo kept going, still playful, still oblivious. “She comes in glowing while I’m running on vending machine Pop-Tarts and anxiety.”

You grinned again. “You say that like Pop-Tarts are bad.”

Jack finally looked up. Right at you.

“I liked you better when you were sneaking granola bars from my locker.”

Your breath caught a little—not because it was mean. But because it sounded like a memory.

You raised a brow. “You never let me finish the boxes.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move.

“Maybe I liked the distraction.”

The room went quiet again.

Leo cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, I’m gonna grab another Coke. You two want anything?”

“No,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

When Leo left, the silence stretched.

You scooped another spoonful of oats, pretending not to feel the weight of Jack’s stare.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one about locking the side door this morning.”

“Oh.” You smiled faintly. “Sorry, I was halfway through meal prepping for us and my mom called... You know how she gets.”

Jack nodded, jaw tight. “You’re supposed to text me back.”

You raised a brow again, but this time softer. “Jack. It was about a door.”

“It was about you being safe.”

That landed somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just set your spoon down and leaned back into the couch.

“I was fine,” you said gently. “I promise.”

Jack didn’t reply. But he reached for your cup, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip (not using the straw) like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared. “That has lemon in it.”

He grimaced. “Tastes like a scented candle.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

But the corners of his mouth twitched—just a little.

He set your water with a quiet thud, the lid clicking into place like it was holding something back for him, too.

You tilted your head, watching him in that way you always did when you were trying to read what was going on behind those stormy, hazel eyes. “You're drinking lemon water,” you said, voice lilting. “Should I be worried?”

Jack didn’t look at you. “I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “And yet the entire fridge full of bottled water didn’t do it for you?”

He shrugged.

“Grumpy,” you said under your breath, just loud enough.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I’m tired.”

“You always say that when you’re being grumpy.”

Jack gave you a slow look—flat, dry, and just a little amused. “You finished?”

“Not even close,” you said sweetly, your elbow propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re cranky, you’re overcaffeinated, and you get weirdly possessive whenever someone’s nice to me.”

That got his attention.

“I’m not possessive,” he said.

You smirked. “Jack, you nearly snapped Leo’s neck when he said I had good handwriting.”

“That’s not what he said, and you know that.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Okay, fine. ‘Prettiest charting I’ve ever seen,’ and he winked. So what?”

Jack’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead in a way that made your scrub top ride up just a little. His eyes tracked the motion like muscle memory.

You stepped closer, toes nearly brushing his boots. “I like that you care about this,” you said, softer now. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all night.

“You drive me crazy, kid.” he muttered.

You beamed. “So you are jealous.”

Jack sighed through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders like an exhale he’d been holding in too long. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long.

“I know you’re mine,” he said quietly. “I just… sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t always know it.”

Your chest tightened. Not in a painful way. In a finally, you’re here with me again kind of way.

You reached for his hand and squeezed. “Well, they do. But if you ever forget again, I’ll tattoo your name on my ass”

That earned you a snort—low and surprised.

“I’m serious,” you teased, squeezing his fingers. “Right across my cheeks. Property of Jack Abbot. Think it’d go with my Bikinis when I start tanning again?”

His lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. And you’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice quieter now, as he dipped down for a soft kiss,  “Wouldn’t change it.”

And there it was.

The part of him no one else got to see—the softness under all that armor he put up. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this chaotic, blood-slicked hospital worth holding onto.

Before you could say anything else, the overhead crackled to life:

“Trauma en route. ETA four minutes. MVA, two patients. GSW secondary.”

Jack’s head lifted, all instinct now. You were already moving toward the door when his hand caught yours.

He didn’t pull, didn’t squeeze—just held.

“Be careful,” he said.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, quick and certain. “Always.”

Then the moment passed, and the hallway swallowed you both—he leading, you following, hearts synced in the rhythm of the ER. But his hand brushed yours again as you walked.

The trauma had come in hard and fast—twisted metal, broken glass, and enough blood to soak through your shoes. Jack had been in the thick of it, barking orders, steady hands moving like muscle memory while you worked across from him, suctioning, suturing, stabilizing. For a while, there was no room for anything else. No talking. No teasing. Just the two of you, back in sync, locked in the rhythm you knew so well. It was easy to forget the cracks when the adrenaline kicked in.

But by 4:15 a.m., the ER had slowed to a lull.

The kind that was never quiet, but at least breathable.

You’d just finished helping a resident clean up trauma one when they wheeled in another patient—mid-40s, minor head lac, walking wounded and very, very drunk.

You smiled politely, grabbing a suture kit.

“Alright, sir. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Can you sit still for me?”

He gave you a once-over that made your skin crawl. “Sure thing, sweetheart. For you, I’ll be real good.”

You kept it professional. “Thank you.”

But the longer you worked, the bolder he got.

“You married?” he slurred.

You didn’t answer.

“Bet your husband’s not half as pretty as you.”

You offered a tight smile. “Try to stay still. This part stings a little.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You ever date older guys? I got a boat, you know.”

You glanced around the bay, but the resident was long gone, charting somewhere out of earshot.

“I’m flattered, really, but I already have a boat,” you said lightly, finishing the last stitch. “And you’re gonna feel real silly about this in the morning.”

He grinned, crooked and gross. “Not if you give me your number.”

And then he reached out—his hands brushing your hips in a way that was not accidental.

You stepped back instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s enough sir,” you said sharply, your voice still steady, still calm—but colder now. “I’m going to step out for a minute, since I’ve finished. Someone else will check on you soon.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You slipped into the furthest supply closet you could easily find and leaned against the shelves, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a sprint. Your hands were shaking—more with anger than fear—but still. It clung to your skin.

The door creaked open a minute later.

“Hey.”

Jack.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, gaze scanning your face. “One of the other nurses said he got grabby.”

You looked up at him, throat tight. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer that right away. Just moved closer and touched your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he needed to ground himself.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded. “Just… gross. Not the first, won’t be the last.”

His jaw flexed. “It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

You leaned into his hand. “It’s okay. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You looked up at him. “Jack—”

He stepped closer, and suddenly his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid and steady. His hands found your waist, rough fingers curling around your hips.

“I should be the only one touching you,” he said, voice low.

“We’ll get written up…”

“I don’t care.”

But Jack wasn’t hearing logic right now. He was standing there like he could still smell every guy you had met tonight on you, like the air hadn’t cleared yet.

“Hey.” You placed your hands on his chest, grounding him. “We don’t have to do this here…”

His hands squeezed your waist. “You’re mine.”

“I know.”

“You don’t flirt like that with anyone else, right?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “Flirt like what?”

“Like you did with that prick.”

You frowned a abit. “I was being nice. He asked if I wanted  something from the vending machine- he asked you too and you looked at him like he offered me lingerie.”

Jack didn’t budge. His grip didn’t loosen.

You tried again. Softer this time.

“I steal your clothes. I come home to you. I wear the ring you bought me, and I’m your wife. I chose you.”

His eyes searched yours—tired, and heavy, with a mix of something else.

You rose on your toes, placing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m yours, Jack.”

And then his arms were around you fully, pulling you in like he needed to feel your heartbeat to believe it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a beat behind your breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

You didn’t hear him lock the door.

You felt it.

That soft, decisive click behind you—like a promise.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Jack’s answer was a look—slow, hot, and so heavy it pinned you in place. He stepped with the kind of precision that said this wasn’t spontaneous. No, he’d decided the second he saw you walk into the closet room, cheeks flushed, lip gloss smudged, tensions high. 

The second all these guys started paying attention to you tonight. 

Jack hadn’t liked that.

He tried to be quiet about it, like always. Quiet the way a storm is—only right before it breaks.

He stopped just barely inches from you, hand coming up to trace a line along your jaw. His fingers were thick, rough, warm, familiar. His touch didn’t ask permission. It remembered.

“You keep smiling like that,” he said low, his voice a gravel-coated whisper, “and I’ll have to fuck the memory of it out of you.”

Your breath caught—somewhere between outrage and arousal. “Jack—”

But you didn’t get the rest out.

He kissed you.

Not sweet. Not careful.

Claiming.

His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you into him like it was instinct, like your mouth had always belonged to his. You melted into him, your body curving against his like you were built for this—built for him. His hips pressed forward, pinning you to the wall of the storage closet, and your head thudded back softly against the cool plaster as his lips slid down to your throat, sucking, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“Locked the door for a reason,” he murmured, tongue flicking against the skin where your pulse fluttered. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you every second we’re here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shirt like lifelines. “You’re sooo jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes devouring. “Damn right I’m jealous.”

His hand slid under your scrub top, skimming up your ribs, palm flat, hot and possessive. “You’re mine—I can’t fucking stand it when they look at you like you’re not.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, breathless, lips grazing his.

His answer was a growl.

Jack spun you, quick and controlled, pressing you front-first against the shelves. Supplies rattled, somewhere above you—gloves, gauze, sterile wraps—but it was the sound of his breath at your neck that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands roamed—under your shirt to your tits, over the waistband of your scrub pants, every inch of bare skin he found earning a new kind of heat.

“You wanna be flirted with?” he whispered, voice dragging down your spine. “Fine. But I get to remind you who makes you cum”

You gasped as his mouth met the base of your neck, teeth grazing, tongue following. “Jack…”

“You knew,” he said again, almost reverent now. 

And god help you, you did.

Because you’d walked in here to take a second, needing this—needing him. Not just his hands or his mouth or the way he made you come apart so effortlessly, but this claiming. This reminder. That under all the stress, the silence, the long nights and missed moments—the fire still burned. Hot. Unrelenting.

His fingers slipped lower, teasing the waist of your scrub pants, and you pressed back against him without thinking, needing more, needing everything.

“You’re mine,” he murmured again, lips brushing your shoulder, low and slow. “Say it.”

You turned your head just enough to whisper, “I’m yours, Jack. Always.”

And that was all it took.

He kept you facing the shelves, a hand coming down to your hips to steady you as he continued to feel you up with the other. “Yeah? You gonna be my good girl, sweetheart?” 

The whimper you let out was pathetic. A low pitched sound that came from the back of your throat, as Jack started to flood your senses. He gave your ass a quick, hard, smack. Hand going back to rub over the spot, as it snapped you out of your daze. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

You nodded, desperately. Already whoozy from the assault on your sense that your husband brought on. “Mhm! Jack-”

He shushed you, gently pushing down your scrub pants, “Gotta make this quick and quiet, or they’ll all know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

Reaching back, you straightend up leaning into his burning touch, wanting him closer than he already was. You could feel how hard he was beneath his cargos, half chubbed as he ground his hips into your panty-clad ass. 

You would’ve felt embarressed if this hadn’t felt so right. 

Clothes barely off, lazily grinding against your husband in a closet like you’re back in some college frat house at UPenn. 

Jack doesn’t waste anymore time though, hastily shoving your panties down, rough fingers making quick work of finding your swollen clit. The tight circles he does against you, make you feel dizzy—legs already beginning to shake, as if you haven’t been working for ten hours already. 

Your moans are muffled by your arm as you lean further into the shelves, but press your hips back toward Jack. Your resolve slowly slipping, as he dips a finger in your wet heat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he groans out softly, continuing as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Then he just pulls away.

Not entirely, still so close that you’ve basically become one. It’s enough for you to whine at the loss of contact, pushing back into him hoping he’ll start again. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jack can practically hear the pout in your voice. The breathy little lilt of displeasure showing in your tone. 

“Sorry, baby. We only have time for one thing, and I’d much rather make you cum on my cock.” He kisses the back of your neck, gentle and loving as ever as he reaches down to free himself from his scrub pants. 

He’s aching, he’s so hard. 

He takes a few deep breaths before haphazrdly stroking himself. Fisting his cock in his meaty hand, already slick after playing with your wet little cunt. 

Jack wasn’t going to make love to you. 

He was going to fuck you like you needed it. 

Lining himself up, Jack pushed in with a solid thrust of his sturdy hips. You just about collapsed into the shelves, already feeling so full of Jack as he started a steady rhythm. It was overwhelming, one of his hands tight against your hips as he used it to guide you into his thrusts, the other snaked over your mouth to muffle your breathy moans because the hallway was just beyond the locked closet door.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight, baby.” you cleched against him as he drove himself further into you, trying to angle himself to hit the spot that would have you seeing stars in no time. 

Your walls hugged him tight, leaving him a mess as he watched himself slip in and out of you in a trance like state. 

“Fuck Jack-” you start mewling, hips pushing and grinding to meet his thrusts. “Ah- ah, you’re so deep.” 

He mumbles something incoherent against your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your hips and ass to get more leverage to fuck you nice and hard. 

You can tell you’re making a mess of yourself, panties clearly ruined with how you’re leaking down your thighs and his cock. Each thrust is a new shockwave of pleasure you don’t expect, but Jack doesn’t let up and you don’t want him to. 

“Too m-much,” his cock throbs, hard and heavy inside you as he stills for just a second. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you, Sweetheart?” It’s almost mocking as he draws it out into longer deeper strokes—the ones that make it hard to breathe, the air escaping your lungs faster than you can take the chance to gasp for air. 

“You’re just so big,” you whimper out, trying to keep yourself from collapsing back against him as your legs start to feel like jello. 

Jack gives you a light scoff, “Good thing you’re being a good girl, and takin’ me so well, huh?” He keeps the pace steady, if not a bit quicker. Switching up the tempo to keep you on your toes and eager for him. 

“Mhm!” You can feel your orgasm building, that all too familiar pressure in your lower tummy bubbling over. “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum-”

It’s like a switch flips in his brain, kicking him into high gear as he spins you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he lifts one of your legs around his waist. 

“Yeah, pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?” He asks you through a sloppy kiss, one that smears what’s left of your lip gloss. 

You feel like you’re about to implode, too tense and too loose all at once. Your hands find purchase on his clothed chest and the curls at the base of his neck, as he continues his loving assault on your body and senses. Jack is everywhere, and you’d never want it to be different. 

He watches as you finally let go, shivering your way through your orgasm as you cum on his thick cock. Your breath catches as he kisses you slowly, working his cock in and out of your gushing pussy still chasing his own release. 

“Fuck- you ruin me baby,” He groans into your kiss swollen lips, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before burying himself as deep as possible. His own breathing shallow as he spills his load deep into your cunt, right where it belongs. 

Blinking slowly, you return to your body. Jack looks down at you, capturing your lips in one last sweet kiss as he gently pulls out of you. Your body shudders at the now empty feeling, “You with me, Baby?”

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, gentle and loving as you just stare at him a little dazed. You manage a soft hum, and he begins the process of putting you back together for the public. 

You cringed a bit as he helped you pull the pants of your scrubs back up, at least they were dark… right? You’d change into your backups as soon as you found the courge to leave the storage room. Then there was your hair which Jack lovingly braided as quickly as he could, before fixing himself the best he could

“Everyone’s totally gonna know… Ugh…”  you leaned your head against his chest, sighing at the thought of John or Ellis questioning where you two were for the past 15 minutes. 

“You look fine, besides who cares?” He questioned, “Do you know how many times I’ve heard the same story from other departments,” 

“Yeah but this is us,” you gave him a deadpan expression, as he reached behind you so that he could grab your stethoscope and badge reel from one of the many shelves behind you. 

He gave you a nonchalant shrug, and one last kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go get ‘em tiger?”

“You’re so dead whe we get home, it’s not even funny Jack Abbot!” 

“We still have about two more hours, so I think I’m safe, Princess.” 

mercvry-glow 2025

[shy9-29]

ONE NIGHT STAND ⟡ psh

professer sunghoon x collage student ୨ৎ

⟡ synopsis: You let a stranger ruin you one night — then he turned out to be your professor. Now every class feels like foreplay. ✉️ wc. 10350 ⚠️ tw smut, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies), professor/student relationship, one night stand, fingering, oral (m. receiving), spanking, dirty talk, handjob, overstimulation, spit kink, possessiveness, jealousy, public teasing, rough sex, aftercare, slight angst, emotional manipulation, implied age gap, power imbalance, strong language, alcohol use (basically just porn)

genre. smut, (mdni!) romance, drama, angst, forbidden love, slow burn, erotica, university au, power dynamics, emotional tension, secret relationship, student/professor romance

It’s your last night of summer. Tomorrow, you move into your dorm, trade your parents’ house for a tiny twin bed and a stack of syllabi. So tonight — just for tonight — you want to forget about responsibility. About expectations. About the version of yourself you’re supposed to become.

The club is loud and packed, the bass from the speakers deep enough to rattle in your chest. Lights flash red and purple overhead, casting shadows that move across the crowd like ghosts. Bella clutches your wrist, pulling you deeper into the sea of people with a giggle.

“You’re not allowed to be shy tonight,” she shouts over the music, leaning close so you can hear her. “It’s your last night of freedom. Go flirt with someone. Get drunk. Maybe get laid.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. She’s already halfway to drunk, her glossy eyes and flushed cheeks proof of that. But she’s right. You didn’t dress like this to be a wallflower. You came out in a tight black dress that hugs your curves just right, your makeup smoky and bold, your legs aching slightly from the heels you swore you wouldn’t wear and did anyway.

You make your way to the bar to order something — anything — that’ll warm your throat and lower your inhibitions just a little. That’s when you feel it.

Eyes on you.

You turn your head slightly, pretending to scan the crowd, but you already know exactly where it’s coming from.

He’s sitting at the bar alone. A half-finished whiskey glass in front of him, one elbow resting lazily on the counter. His hair is dark and parted just enough to fall over one brow. Clean-cut, but not preppy. Dressed in all black — a simple shirt, watch glinting at his wrist, rings on two fingers. His posture is relaxed, but his gaze?

Intense.

You don’t know how long he’s been looking at you, but he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t wink. Just watches. Calm. Curious. Like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

Your heart skips a beat.

You look away first, pretending to fidget with your phone as you wait for the bartender. But your pulse is racing, and you can still feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“Vodka soda,” you say when the bartender finally notices you. Your voice is slightly unsteady, and it annoys you.

You don’t look back until the drink’s in your hand — and when you do, he’s still watching. But this time, he’s moving.

Straight toward you.

You freeze. Instinctively fix your hair. Sip your drink too fast. Then he’s there, standing beside you at the bar like he’s been invited.

“First drink of the night?” he asks, voice smooth as silk, low enough that you have to lean in to hear him.

You glance up at him — and now that he’s close, you can really see him. Sharp cheekbones. Full lips. Eyes so dark you’re not sure where iris ends and pupil begins.

You try to play it cool. “Second.”

He nods once. “Good. First would’ve meant I was a little early. Second means I’m right on time.”

You raise a brow, trying not to let your smile show. “For what?”

He leans in slightly, and you catch the faintest whiff of cologne — warm, musky, expensive. “For meeting you.”

The line should be cheesy. It should make you roll your eyes. But it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he actually means it. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes like he’s cataloging the way your mouth moves when you smile.

You take another sip of your drink. “Do you always hit on girls at bars?”

“Not always,” he says, not missing a beat. “Only the ones who can’t stop looking back.”

Your cheeks heat instantly. He saw that?

Before you can come up with a response, he extends his hand. “Sunghoon.”

You hesitate — just a second — before slipping your hand into his. His grip is firm, but not too tight. Warm. Steady.

You tell him your name. He repeats it back to you like he’s tasting it.

And then he leans in again. “Let me buy you your third drink.”

You’re not drunk — not really — but there’s a buzz in your blood, a warmth that runs deeper than alcohol. It’s in the way Sunghoon keeps watching you, the way his eyes drop to your lips every time you speak. His voice is steady, smooth, but there’s something beneath it — a restraint. Like he’s holding himself back.

You talk. About nothing, mostly. Music, favorite cities, late-night cravings. You learn he’s a little older, but he doesn’t say exactly how much. You don’t ask. You don’t want to ruin the spell by making it real.

At some point, you end up on the dance floor. You didn’t plan to — you never really dance — but he takes your hand without asking, and suddenly you’re there, surrounded by pulsing lights and bodies and heat.

He doesn’t keep his distance. One hand finds your waist. The other drifts low, fingers brushing just beneath the hem of your dress. He moves slow, but deliberate — his chest against your back, his lips ghosting near your ear.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, voice low, breath hot against your skin.

You laugh — breathless. “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t usually do this either.”

You turn your head just enough to meet his gaze. “Do what?”

He leans in. His mouth grazes your jaw, then your cheek, then finally — your lips.

It starts soft. Testing. His hand slides around your hip, pulling you closer, and then he kisses you deeper — fuller — like he’s been waiting all night for it. You don’t even realize your fingers have curled into his shirt until he pulls back just slightly, lips still brushing yours.

“My place is five minutes from here,” he says. “Say the word.”

You hesitate for half a second. Not because you don’t want it — but because you want it too much.

“let’s go,” you whisper.

The ride to his place is a blur — fast, silent, electric. He doesn’t touch you in the car, but his knee brushes yours, and it feels more intimate than anything else so far.

His apartment is clean. Minimalist. Expensive-looking. You barely notice any of it.

Because the moment the door clicks shut behind you, he’s on you.

His hands cup your face as he kisses you again, harder this time. Hungrier. He backs you against the door, lips crashing into yours like he can’t get enough.

Your fingers slide into his hair. His hands drop to your hips, then lower — gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you effortlessly.

You gasp against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you like you weigh nothing, walking you through the apartment until you’re in his bedroom.

He drops you gently onto the bed, standing over you for a second. His chest rises and falls with every breath. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room — like he’s starving and you’re the meal.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod. “Please.”

He smirks — just a little. “Take off your dress for me.”

Your breath catches. But you do it — slowly, fingers slipping beneath the straps and easing it down your body.

Sunghoon watches the whole time, not blinking.

You’re left in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties. You start to reach behind to unhook it, but he stops you.

“Let me.”

He steps forward, kneeling onto the bed between your legs. His fingers find the clasp, and the bra falls away. His eyes darken.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, leaning down to kiss between your breasts. His hands trail up your sides, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you arch into him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, mouth dragging lower, tongue flicking across one nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

Your back arches, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

His hand moves between your thighs, fingers tracing over your panties. You’re soaked.

“You want my fingers?” he asks, voice low, teasing.

You nod — desperate now.

“Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want your fingers,” you breathe. “Please.”

And that’s all it takes.

He pushes your panties aside and runs two fingers along your slit, groaning at how wet you are. Then he slides one finger in — slow, deep — and your body trembles.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re tight.”

He adds another, curling them inside you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

Your hips start to move with his rhythm, grinding against his hand.

“Touch yourself,” he says suddenly. “I want to see you do it.”

You hesitate, flushed, but obey — hand slipping between your legs to rub slow, needy circles over your clit while he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy.

The sounds — wet, messy, obscene — echo in the quiet room.

You’re close. So close.

“Come for me,” he says, lips against your ear. “Show me how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

And you do.

You’re still catching your breath when Sunghoon pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt, glistening with your orgasm. He brings them to his mouth, lips curling around them without breaking eye contact.

“Taste so fucking good,” he murmurs. “Could eat you for hours. But right now…”

His voice trails off as he sits back on his heels, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. His chest is toned, lean muscle carved beneath smooth skin. His belt comes next, then his zipper—

And when he pushes his pants down, your mouth goes dry.

Holy. Shit.

He’s big. Thick. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, hard and flushed, a single bead of precum glistening at the tip.

You stare, stunned for a second, and he notices.

His mouth curves into a dark smile. “Too much?”

You shake your head, eyes locked on his length. “No. Just…” Your voice trails off, and you bite your lip. “Big.”

He groans softly, palming the base of his cock. “Come here, baby. Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You crawl toward him, sinking to your knees at the edge of the bed. He stays standing, hand stroking his cock slowly as you settle in front of him.

“Spit on it,” he says, voice rough. “Then use your tongue.”

You obey. Spitting into your palm first, you rub the wetness over the head of his cock, then down the shaft. He hisses under his breath, hips twitching.

Then you lean forward and press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the tip.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, hand slipping into your hair. “Such a good slut.”

You wrap your lips around him, tongue swirling over the sensitive head before sinking lower. He’s thick — you can barely fit him in your mouth — but you try, inch by inch, letting your saliva drip down to make it easier.

Sunghoon groans, fingers tightening in your hair. “Fuck, just like that. You look so fucking good on your knees.”

You moan around him, and the vibration makes his hips jerk. You bob your head slowly, using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit, drool running down your chin.

“Look at me,” he commands, voice like gravel. “Eyes on me while you suck my cock.”

You lift your gaze, lashes wet, cheeks hollowing around his length. He growls.

“God, that mouth. I could fuck your throat all night.”

He starts to guide your head, setting a rhythm — slow but deep, letting you feel every inch. Your throat tightens around him, but you don’t pull away.

“You like this?” he mutters, voice ragged. “Like choking on my cock like a desperate little slut?”

You moan again, louder this time, and he groans — head falling back for a second before he looks down at you again.

“Bet your pussy’s still dripping,” he says. “Bet you’d let me bend you over right now and fuck you until you forget your name.”

You whimper, sucking harder, desperate for his praise — for more of that filth spilling from his lips.

Then suddenly, he pulls back. His cock slips from your mouth with a wet pop, and you blink up at him, confused.

“On your hands and knees,” he says. “Now.”

You scramble onto the bed, body aching for more, cunt still pulsing from your earlier orgasm.

Sunghoon climbs behind you, running a hand down your back, then up again — slow, possessive.

Then—smack.

You gasp as his palm lands on your ass, the sting sharp and sudden.

“Too much?” he asks, even as he squeezes where he just spanked.

“No,” you whisper. “Do it again.”

He groans. “Fuck, you really are perfect.”

Smack. Again — harder this time. Then he soothes the spot with his palm, leaning down to murmur against your ear.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he breathes. “Stretch this tight little pussy open with my cock, fuck you so good you’ll still be shaking in your dorm tomorrow.”

You moan — loud, desperate — pushing your hips back against him.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

His voice is a low growl. “Beg prettier than that.”

You shudder. “Please. Want you to fuck me. Want your cock, please—”

He growls again — deep, raw — and grabs your hips, lining himself up.

You feel the head of his cock slide through your folds — slow, teasing — dragging against your already-sensitive clit before he lines up at your entrance. He pauses, both hands gripping your hips.

“Deep breath, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m not small, remember?”

You barely have time to nod before he pushes in.

Your gasp is instant. He’s thick, stretching you open inch by inch, and the burn is sharp in the best way — the kind that makes your back arch, your mouth fall open, your eyes roll back. He goes slow at first, letting you feel every inch, and your body clenches tight around him, trying to adjust.

“Shit,” Sunghoon groans, voice strained. “You’re so fucking tight—trying to suck me in.”

He bottoms out with one final thrust, hips flush to your ass. You cry out, gripping the sheets.

“Too much?” he asks, voice low.

“N-no,” you stammer. “Just—so full.”

He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth right by your ear. “You can take it. And you will.”

Then he pulls back — just the tip — and slams back in, hard enough to make you moan. He starts moving, hips snapping forward, fucking into you with smooth, relentless strokes. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with the filthy wet noises coming from between your legs and your own desperate moans.

Sunghoon’s grip on your hips is bruising. He fucks you like he owns you, like you’re his toy and no one else’s. He leans back just enough to admire the way your ass bounces with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Taking all of me like a good little slut. You were made for this cock.”

You whimper, trembling, already close again — the stretch, the pressure, the filthy words all pushing you toward the edge.

“You gonna come again?” he asks, breathless. “Already?”

You nod, too far gone to answer properly.

He slaps your ass again — smack. “Say it. I wanna hear you beg.”

“Please,” you gasp. “I’m gonna come, Sunghoon—fuck, please let me.”

He growls, pounding into you faster. “Come for me. Now.”

You break.

Your second orgasm crashes over you hard, clenching around him like a vice, and he doesn’t stop. Keeps fucking you through it, unrelenting, merciless. Your arms give out, and you collapse onto the mattress, trembling and whimpering.

But he doesn’t let up.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he pants. “Not even close.”

He pulls out suddenly, and you barely have time to catch your breath before he flips you onto your back. He grabs your legs, spreads them wide, and lines himself up again.

“Want to see your face this time,” he murmurs. “Want to watch you fall apart.”

Then he thrusts back into you, hard and deep, making you cry out. Your body is already too sensitive, your pussy still fluttering from the last orgasm, but he doesn’t care. If anything, he likes how overstimulated you are.

“You feel that?” he grits out. “How your pussy’s still squeezing me like it never wants to let go?”

You nod frantically, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Too much—fuck—it’s so much.”

“But you’re taking it,” he says. “Taking it so well.”

He fucks you like a man possessed, like he’s trying to carve himself into your memory. Every thrust hits deep, the angle perfect, and your legs start to shake.

“I can’t—” you choke out. “Gonna come again—”

He grabs your throat — not hard, just enough to hold you in place. His other hand finds your clit, fingers rubbing fast, merciless circles over the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna come again. You’re gonna soak my cock. I want to feel you milk me.”

You shatter.

The third orgasm hits you like lightning — hot, electric, impossible. Your vision blurs, body writhing beneath him, voice cracking into a broken moan as your pussy clenches around him like a vice.

But he still doesn’t stop.

Sunghoon fucks you through it, hips slamming into yours, jaw clenched like he’s holding back everything.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groans. “Wanna come all over this tight fucking pussy. You want that, baby?”

You nod, unable to speak.

“Where?” he grits out. “Tell me.”

“Inside,” you whisper. “Please—come inside me.”

His eyes darken.

He slams into you one more time and groans deep in his chest as he spills inside you — hot, thick, and endless. You can feel it, the way he pulses inside your overstimulated cunt, and it makes you moan all over again.

He stays there for a moment, both of you panting, sweaty, trembling. Then he leans down and kisses you — slow and deep, like he’s trying to remind you that he can be gentle, too.

When he finally pulls out, your thighs are sticky, trembling. You’re completely wrecked — legs spread, sheets soaked, lips swollen, hair a mess. And Sunghoon just looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You nod, exhausted. “That was… insane.”

You wake up sore.

Between your legs, mostly. Every shift of your thighs reminds you exactly what happened last night — the ache, the stretch, the way he didn’t stop even after your legs were shaking. You wince a little as you turn over.

The bed beside you is empty.

Sheets crumpled, slightly warm, but no Sunghoon.

You sit up slowly, the duvet slipping down your bare chest, blinking against the morning light that filters in through half-open blinds. The room’s unfamiliar. Sleek. A little too neat to feel lived in.

Strange. Isn’t this his place?

Your clothes are scattered across the floor, but none of his are. No signs of a toothbrush on the bathroom counter. No jackets hanging by the door. No photos. No clutter.

Airbnb, maybe. Just a place he rented for the weekend.

You frown as you rub a hand over your eyes. Your head is foggy, still wrapped in the lingering haze of alcohol and sex. You try to piece together last night — the way he looked at you at the party, the feel of his fingers, his mouth, his cock — and then… it’s all just heat and noise and black.

You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You sigh. Hard.

Your phone’s nearly dead, and the time glares back at you: 11:02 AM.

Classes start tomorrow. Perfect.

No note. No message. Not even a name.

You don’t even know his last name.

You pull your dress on — wrinkled and inside-out — and shove your heels into your bag. You call an Uber before you’ve even finished brushing your hair with your fingers.

The car is quiet. You don’t talk.

You lean your forehead against the window, eyes half-lidded, sore and still a little hungover, the ache between your legs throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

One night stand. That’s what it was. Nothing more.

Still… you can’t help thinking about him. About the way he looked at you. The way he kissed you. The way he—

You shake your head.

It was one night. You’ll never see him again.

Tomorrow, university starts. Time to focus on new things.

You have no idea what’s coming.

You’re late.

Of course you’re late.

Your phone had died overnight, and you’d barely dragged yourself out of bed in time to throw on the cleanest outfit you could find and rush across campus with half-brushed hair and your coffee still in a to-go cup. Your legs are still sore, your thighs brushing uncomfortably with every step, and you haven’t stopped thinking about last night.

Or him.

The guy you let wreck you in a stranger’s bed. The guy who disappeared before morning. The guy you’ll never see again.

Right?

You shove open the door to the lecture hall, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumble as you slip inside, your voice echoing faintly. The place is massive — a hundred seats, maybe more — and every single one of them is already filled with someone more punctual and better-rested than you.

You find a seat near the middle, head ducked, ignoring the stares as you slide your bag off your shoulder and collapse into the chair. You’re still trying to catch your breath, sipping your lukewarm coffee, when a voice carries from the front of the room.

“Glad you could finally join us.”

Your stomach twists.

That voice—

No way.

You blink.

Then slowly — so slowly — you look up.

And your heart stops.

There he is.

At the front of the room, standing beside the projector screen with a laptop open on the podium, is him. Black button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes.

Sunghoon.

Your one-night stand.

Your mystery man.

Your professor.

You blink again, hoping you’re hallucinating. That you’re still in bed. That you’re still dreaming.

But he just stares back at you — a flicker of recognition in his eyes, so fast and so subtle that if you didn’t know, you’d miss it.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t react.

He just says, cool and calm, “As I was saying — welcome to Modern Media Theory. I’m Professor Park. This semester, I expect you to show up on time, be prepared, and keep your personal lives out of my classroom.”

You go still.

The air in your lungs vanishes. Your cheeks burn.

He didn’t just fuck you.

He’s your professor.

And he’s pretending nothing happened.

You don’t hear a single word of the lecture.

Not a single one.

Your eyes stay locked on him the whole time — on Professor Park — trying to reconcile the man in front of the class with the man who had you bent over a bed less than twenty-four hours ago.

He’s even more handsome when you’re sober. Clean lines. Sharp cheekbones. That same deep voice, now filled with authority instead of filth. It should be illegal to look that good in front of a classroom.

And the worst part? He acts like you’re no one.

Not a glance. Not a flicker of amusement or recognition. Nothing.

You spend the next ninety minutes trying not to squirm in your seat — from nerves, from heat, from the dull ache still between your thighs. His voice carries over the room in calm, measured tones, talking about frameworks and theory and authors you can’t even remember, because all you can think about is his hand gripping your throat, his cock in your mouth, his voice in your ear telling you to beg for it.

By the time class ends, you’re practically vibrating with frustration. The students file out one by one, chatting, oblivious, until finally the room is empty — except for you.

And him.

You wait until he’s closed his laptop before standing.

He doesn’t look up. “Class is dismissed.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice tight. “I got that.”

That makes him pause. Slowly, his eyes lift, meeting yours. The coolness in them is surgical. Detached.

You swallow. “So… you’re a professor.” He doesn’t react. “Looks that way.” Your heart pounds. “You didn’t think that was something worth mentioning last night?” Sunghoon tilts his head, finally closing the distance with his eyes, not his body. “You didn’t ask.”

You laugh — sharp, disbelieving. “Seriously?” He slides his laptop into his bag. Calm. Controlled. Like this is nothing to him. You take a step closer. “You just left. No note. No text. You didn’t even tell me your last name, and now I find out you’re standing at the front of my class like nothing happened?”

He sighs — not guilty, not even annoyed. Just tired.

“Look,” he says. “Last night was a mistake.”

The words hit like a slap.

“A mistake,” you repeat, voice flat.

“Yes.”

He zips up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, then finally — finally — meets your gaze with something resembling emotion. But it’s not warmth. It’s not regret. It’s caution. “You didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know who you were. But now we do. And nothing else happens. Understood?” You blink at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Sunghoon—”

“Professor Park,” he corrects, firm. “From now on, in this room, on this campus — you will refer to me as Professor Park. You will not speak of last night. And you will not treat me like anything other than your professor.”

Your throat tightens. “So that’s all I was to you?” His jaw flexes. Just once. “I’m not here to discuss feelings,” he says. “I’m here to teach.” He moves to leave, but you step in his path.

“One night,” you say quietly. “That’s all it meant to you?” He pauses. Doesn’t look at you. Then—

“Yes.”

And then he walks past you, out the door, gone before you can even breathe out the response stuck in your throat.

You’re alone. In your first lecture hall. On your first day. Still sore. Still remembering. Still burning. And now you can’t stop thinking about him. Not because he touched you. But because now, he won’t.

You practically collapse into your dorm room chair.

The walk back from class did nothing to calm you down — not with your thoughts spinning and your thighs still sore. You’re halfway through Googling Is it illegal to hook up with your professor if you didn’t know he was your professor when the door swings open and Lily walks in, dropping her tote bag with a sigh.

“Please tell me you didn’t fall asleep in the middle of class like I almost did,” she groans.

You shake your head. “No. I… had Modern Media Theory.”

Lily perks up instantly, eyes wide. “Wait—wait—don’t tell me you got Professor Park?”

You freeze.

She gasps. “You got Park? Are you serious?”

You just blink at her, unsure how to answer.

Lily throws herself onto your bed dramatically. “Oh my God. Half the campus is obsessed with that man. Like, seriously. Even the guys think he’s hot.”

You say nothing. You can’t. You’re still trying to figure out if this is hilarious or humiliating.

“And people say,” she lowers her voice like she’s sharing top-tier gossip, “he’s huge.”

You sip your water slowly, hiding the way your breath catches. Yeah. You wouldn’t need rumors to confirm that. You still feel it.

You try to play it cool. “Huge how?”

Lily looks scandalized. “Y/N. Please. You know how.”

You choke on your water, coughing as Lily bursts out laughing. “Seriously! That man has big dick energy like—actual BDE. Someone in second-year swore he stretched her friend so bad she couldn’t sit for two days.”

You look down at your lap. Yep. Sounds familiar.

“Didn’t know the media department had this kind of drama,” you mutter.

Before Lily can reply, Kitty walks in with a protein shake and zero chill.

“Wait, are we talking about Professor Park?”

Lily lights up. “Y/N has him!”

Kitty gasps. “No way. The hot one?”

Y/N stays silent. Kitty throws herself into the chair across from you.

“I heard he’s really good in bed,” Kitty says casually, like she’s talking about the weather. “Like, life-changing. My cousin said her roommate slept with him at some faculty party or something—pre-semester—and she still can’t shut up about it.”

Your jaw clenches.

Yeah. He is.

Too good. Too cocky. Too unforgettable.

You cross your legs without thinking — a weak attempt to soothe the ghost of last night’s ache still pulsing between your thighs.

“Anyway,” Kitty says, oblivious, “you’re lucky. Most profs are ancient or weird. If I had Park as my first Monday lecture, I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Lily grins. “I wouldn’t even miss a class. Ever.”

You force a tight smile. “Right.”

They move on to some other topic — campus events, party rumors, who hooked up with who — but you barely hear it.

Your mind’s still stuck on his voice. His hands. The way he called you a good little slutand then looked right through you the next day like none of it mattered.

Your friends think he’s a fantasy. You know he’s a mistake. And yet, you can’t stop thinking about him. Still sore. Still remembering. Still wanting more.

“Y/N… can we talk?”

His voice is low, almost gentle. You turn around and he’s standing there — in the doorway of your dorm, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

You don’t say anything.

Sunghoon steps closer, slow and careful, like he’s afraid you might run.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For being so cold. Yesterday.”

You cross your arms over your chest. You want to be mad — you should be mad — but all you can do is stare at him. The way his jaw clenches. The way his voice dips when he talks to you, like you’re the only one in the world who can hear him.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t know what to say. I panicked.”

He’s inches away now. You can feel the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne — clean, warm, familiar. He reaches out slowly, fingertips brushing your wrist, trailing up your arm like he’s checking if he’s allowed to touch you again.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he murmurs. “About that night.”

Your heart pounds. His touch burns.

“I wanted to forget,” he admits, voice rough. “But I can’t.” Your back hits the wall. He cages you in without touching you — one hand braced beside your head, the other hovering just inches from your waist. His breath fans over your skin.

“I still remember how you sound,” he whispers. “How you taste. How your body felt under mine.” You shiver. Your eyes flutter closed, just for a second. “I should stay away,” he breathes. “But I don’t want to.” His lips are so close. His mouth hovers over yours, not touching, not yet — just letting the moment drag out, all heat and tension and want. You reach for him first.

Your fingers curl into his shirt. He groans into your mouth when you kiss him, slow and desperate, hands grabbing at each other like you’ve both been starved. His body presses against yours and you feel it immediately — hard, hot, eager. Just like before.

He lifts you easily, and your legs wrap around his waist like instinct. His mouth moves down your neck, sucking hard enough to make you gasp, and you tug his shirt up, frantic.

“I missed this,” he murmurs. “Missed you.” Your hips grind against his, and he groans again, rutting forward like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna take my time with you this time,” he says against your skin. “Gonna fuck you slow… make you cry for it…” He lays you down, starts kissing down your body, eyes dark with hunger. You moan his name.

“Sunghoon…”

But then—You wake up.

Your sheets are twisted around your legs, your body damp with sweat, and your hand is fisted tightly in the fabric of your tank top like you were reaching for something. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. You stare at the ceiling.

He wasn’t here. He didn’t say anything. It was just a dream. And now you’re even worse off than before.

You don’t say anything the next time you walk into class.

But you don’t have to.

Your skirt is shorter than usual — just enough to ride up when you sit down — and your legs are crossed deliberately, slowly, as you ease into your seat near the front. No tights. No leggings. Just skin and confidence.

You feel his eyes on you the second you walk in.

He doesn’t look at you directly — of course not. He’s smarter than that. But you can see the way his jaw tightens. The way his fingers hesitate on the mouse before clicking to the next slide. The way his throat bobs when you shift in your seat and uncross your legs, only to cross them again.

You rest your chin in your hand, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing worth watching.

Sunghoon keeps talking.

But now, there’s a pause between his sentences. A slight rasp in his voice. A subtle glance in your direction every few slides, never lingering too long — just enough for you to catch it.

You smile.

It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong.

You’re just a student in his class. Listening. Participating. Sitting there in a skirt that barely brushes your thighs, biting your lip every time he says something remotely commanding.

“Pay attention,” he says at one point, when a group in the back is whispering.

You straighten in your seat, lifting your eyes slowly.

“I am, Professor,” you say, soft and sweet.

His eyes flicker.

You don’t miss the way his grip on the podium tightens.

By the end of class, you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. His sentences get shorter. His lecture speeds up. His eyes don’t meet yours again.

When the students begin to pack up, you move slower than the rest. You lean forward, elbows on the desk, letting your skirt ride up even higher as you adjust your bag. You can feel his stare this time — heavy, hot, lingering.

You don’t look at him. Not until the last of the students file out and the door swings shut behind them.

Then — and only then — you turn your head, lips curled into the faintest smirk.

“I liked today’s lecture,” you say, casual.

He exhales slowly, not moving from behind the desk.

“Did you.”

You stand, swinging your bag over your shoulder, stepping just close enough that the air between you feels like a challenge.

“I liked the way you said my name during attendance,” you murmur. “You sounded… tense.”

His eyes are sharp, unreadable. “You think this is a game?”

You shrug. “Isn’t it?”

He doesn’t move, but the heat in his stare makes your skin prickle. “You’re playing with fire.”

You take a step back toward the door, still smiling.

“Then burn me.”

And just like that — you’re gone.

Leaving him standing there, pulse racing, jaw clenched, hands braced on the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You can feel his gaze on your back the whole way down the hallway.

You don’t expect him to follow you.

You think he’ll stay behind like always — composed, in control, untouched by the things you do just to watch him flinch.

But the second you turn the corner into the empty hallway, you hear it.

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Determined.

Before you can fully register it, a hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you back — hard. You gasp as your back hits the wall, your bag slipping off your shoulder, your heart slamming against your ribs.

Sunghoon towers over you, eyes blazing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You blink up at him, playing dumb. “Walking.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t play games with me.”

You tilt your head, letting your skirt shift just slightly higher as you shift your weight against the wall. “You’re the one who said it was nothing, remember? One night. A mistake.”

His jaw tightens. His hands are still gripping your wrists — not hard, but firm enough to make your pulse stutter. His body is so close you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, caging you in.

“You wore that on purpose,” he mutters, eyes dropping to your legs.

“Wore what?” you ask sweetly.

He scoffs, low and dangerous. “You think I haven’t noticed? The skirts, the looks, the way you sit front row with your legs wide open like you want me to do something about it.”

You stay silent — because he’s not wrong.

Sunghoon leans in closer, voice like a growl in your ear. “You want to get fucked over a desk, is that it?”

Your breath catches.

“You want your professor to lose control,” he continues, his mouth just shy of touching your neck, “to bend you over the nearest surface and remind you exactly how good it felt to be ruined by me.”

You’re shaking now — but not from fear.

From how badly you want him to do it.

Your voice is barely a whisper. “Then do it.”

He freezes.

You swear you see the moment something in him breaks.

Sunghoon grabs your chin, tilting your face up to his, and crashes his mouth onto yours.

There’s nothing soft about it — no hesitation, no pretending this is still something he can control. It’s heat and teeth and frustration, his tongue sliding over yours with a groan like he’s been holding this in for too long.

You gasp as he lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mutters against your mouth.

“But you are,” you whisper, tugging his hair, grinding down on him.

And fuck, he’s already hard — painfully hard, pressing against you like he’s seconds from snapping all over again.

“I tried to forget you,” he breathes, dragging your skirt up.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “Neither did I.”

His mouth crashes onto yours again, more desperate now — hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your panties to the side like he can’t even wait to undress you.

“You think teasing me was a good idea?” he growls. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing when you act like a little slut in my class?”

You moan. “Then teach me a lesson, Professor.”

His eyes burn.

“Oh, I will.”

Sunghoon doesn’t take you to his office.

He doesn’t even bother finding a classroom.

He kicks open the door to the nearest supply closet — small, dark, barely wide enough for the both of you — and presses you against the wall before it even shuts behind you. His mouth is back on yours, rough and hungry, hands everywhere, grabbing and pulling like he needs to feel all of you at once.

“Turn around,” he growls against your lips.

You obey, chest heaving as your hands brace against a metal shelf full of paper and printer ink. He pushes your skirt up roughly, revealing the soaked fabric clinging between your legs.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging his fingers up your inner thigh. “You were dripping through this during class?”

You moan when his fingers brush your slit, teasing the soaked fabric. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You wanted me to see, didn’t you?” he says darkly, yanking your panties to the side. “Wanted me to lose it in front of everyone and fuck you over the desk.”

You whimper, pushing back against him.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” he mutters, pressing two fingers inside you without warning.

You cry out, gripping the shelf tighter as he curls them deep inside you.

“So tight… shit, you’re perfect,” he groans, fucking you slow and deep with his fingers. “Still so wet for me. You missed this cock, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—God, yes.”

He spanks you once — hard — and you gasp, the sting sharp and delicious.

“Say it properly.”

“I missed your cock, Professor.”

He groans low in his throat. You hear the sound of his belt, the zipper, the shuffle of fabric. Then his hand returns to your waist, and the thick head of his cock presses against your entrance.

You barely get a breath in before he thrusts inside.

“Fuck—Sunghoon—!”

“God, you take me so well,” he hisses, slamming into you again, and again, until you’re gasping with every thrust. “This is what you wanted, huh? To be bent over like a bad student and filled up with my cock?”

You can’t even answer. He’s too deep. Too thick. Stretching you open so perfectly your knees almost buckle.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head back just enough to whisper in your ear.

“Not gonna stop this time. You’re gonna take it all.”

And you do.

Every thrust slams into you, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the tiny closet, filthy and raw. Your walls flutter around him with every stroke, clenching tight like your body’s desperate to keep him there.

You don’t even care that you’re in a damn supply closet — not when he’s fucking you like this, like he’s punishing you and worshiping you all at once.

“Can feel you squeezing me,” he groans. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nod, crying out when his hand slips between your legs and rubs circles against your clit, fast and unforgiving.

“Cum for me,” he growls. “Let me feel it.”

You break with a scream, your orgasm ripping through you like fire — legs shaking, walls spasming around him, soaking his cock as he pounds you through it.

But he doesn’t stop.

“Too much—!” you whimper.

“You can take it,” he growls. “One more. Be a good girl.”

You’re already too sensitive, your body twitching with every thrust, but the way he fucks you — like he owns you — has you falling apart again.

“Please—Sunghoon—!”

“That’s it,” he pants, thrusting even deeper. “Such a good little slut for me. Letting me fuck you where anyone could walk in…”

You cum again — hard, sudden, your moans cut off by the hand he slaps over your mouth as you scream into his palm.

His hips stutter.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up—fuck, take it—”

You feel him twitch inside you, hot and thick, and then he’s spilling into you with a deep, broken moan, his cock throbbing as he presses deep and stays there, panting against your shoulder.

You both stay like that for a moment.

Breathless. Sweaty. Soaked.

Then he pulls out slowly, and you both groan at the mess — his cum dripping down your thighs, your panties ruined, the air thick with sex.

He zips up without a word. You adjust your skirt with shaking hands.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You smirk over your shoulder. “And you’re weak.”

He glares.cYou wink. And you leave him there — still flushed, still catching his breath, already addicted again.

The next morning, you walk into class like nothing happened.

Your skirt’s a little longer today. You’re not wearing lip gloss. You even show up on time, quiet and composed.

But nothing feels the same. Sunghoon doesn’t look at you once during the lecture.

Not when you raise your hand. Not when you bite your pen. Not even when you catch his eye on purpose and hold the stare. He acts like you don’t exist. But you know better.

You can feel the tension in the way he paces the front of the room. The way he rushes through the slides. The way he won’t call on you even though your hand’s been raised for five minutes. He’s avoiding you. And it’s almost funny, how obvious it is.

When class ends, you take your time packing up, but he’s already halfway out the door. He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t glance back. Doesn’t say a word.

Coward.

You don’t chase him. You don’t have to. Because two seconds after you step into the hallway, your friend Lily grabs your arm with a smirk.

“You look like you got wrecked,” she whispers, dragging you to the side. “Don’t even lie. You’re glowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit,” she grins. “Is this about Professor Park?”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

“You’ve been acting weird since the semester started,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “And don’t pretend you didn’t notice how he was looking at you the other day. I was two seats behind you. The man looked like he was about to explode.”

You say nothing. Your silence is enough. Lily’s eyes go wide. “No fucking way.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“You fucked him?!”

“Lily.”

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Was it hot?” You hesitate. She laughs. “That good, huh?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She ignores you. “Okay but like… is what they say true?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” she whispers. “Is he… huge. Like huge. Like, wreck-your-life huge.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to. Her eyes go wider.

“Wait. He is, isn’t he?!”

You just shrug, lips twitching.

“And really good in bed?” she adds. “Like, dangerously good. Like… ruin-you-for-everyone-else good.”

You don’t even try to hide the way your thighs press together.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. “No wonder you’ve been walking funny.” You slap her arm. She laughs louder. “You lucky bitch.” You groan, covering your face. “It was just a one-time thing.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” You want to believe it.

But then you get to your next class and open your laptop, and the first thing that flashes through your mind isn’t the lecture — it’s the way Sunghoon’s hand had clamped over your mouth while you came around his cock.

And when you pass him in the hallway later — by accident, this time — he barely glances your way.

But his jaw clenches. His hand balls into a fist. And you know he remembers. You bite your lip as you keep walking, not looking back. You don’t need to. You already know he’s watching.

Class is halfway through when Sunghoon finally breaks.

You can feel it before it happens — the way he keeps glancing your way, how his words are sharper than usual, how his hand keeps flexing on the desk like he’s trying to hold himself together.

You’re sitting near the front again. Of course you are.

Legs crossed. Skirt riding just a little too high. Innocent face like you’re not begging to be noticed.

And he does.

“Y/N,” he says, voice casual. “Can you help me with something for a second?”

Heads turn. You blink up at him, playing your part perfectly.

“Sure, Professor.”

You rise slowly, adjusting your skirt with deliberate care, and walk to the front like you’re not already soaking through your panties. You can feel the stares on your back, but all you care about is his.

His jaw is tight. His eyes flick down your body once — fast, hungry, dangerous — and then he steps back, motioning toward his desk.

“Over here,” he murmurs.

You round the desk, heart pounding as he opens a drawer, pretending to rifle through it.

“I need you to grab—” he starts, but you cut him off with a look.

“Don’t lie,” you whisper, stepping closer. “You just wanted me near.”

His breath hitches. “You’re insane.”

“You asked for help,” you say sweetly. “I’m just being a good student.”

Your hand brushes over the front of his pants — and sure enough, he’s already hard.

He grabs your wrist. “We’re in the middle of class.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “So stop me.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he groans — low and harsh — as you sink to your knees behind the desk. The rest of the class is quiet, heads buried in their notes or staring at the projection screen. No one even notices you’re gone.

No one can see.

Your fingers undo his belt with practiced ease, and when you free his cock, you have to stifle a gasp.

You forgot how thick he is.

How heavy he feels in your hand.

How your mouth waters at the sight of it.

“You’re fucking insane,” he mutters again, voice strained now.

You pump him slowly, dragging your hand up the length of him, thumb teasing the slit at the top. He’s hot and pulsing in your grip, already leaking, and it takes everything in you not to take him in your mouth.

But you want him squirming first.

You tighten your grip slightly, stroking him slow — too slow — watching his stomach tense, his breath catch.

“You like when I touch you here, Professor?” you whisper.

“Fuck,” he mutters, gripping the edge of the desk. “Keep your voice down.”

“You like when your student gets on her knees for you in the middle of class?” you tease, twisting your wrist at the top just how he likes.

His hips twitch.

You speed up, stroking him faster now, loving how he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. He looks down at you once — just once — and you see it in his eyes.

He’s right there.

You lean in, spit on your hand, and stroke him harder — faster — and he curses under his breath, head falling forward.

“Shit—Y/N—stop—gonna—”

You don’t stop.

You squeeze, twist, stroke him right through it, and he cums hard in your hand, biting his lip so hard you think he might bleed. His cock twitches as you milk every last drop, your hand warm and wet with him.

You look up at him, breathless.

“Still need help with anything?”

He glares down at you, chest heaving, eyes wild.

“You needy girl,” he whispers.

“And you’re obsessed,” you whisper back, standing and licking your palm clean with a slow swipe of your tongue — just because you can.

His eyes darken like he wants to drag you under the desk and fuck you right there.

But he doesn’t.

He swallows, adjusts his pants, and turns back to the class like nothing happened.

You walk back to your seat with your legs trembling — and the biggest fucking smile on your face.

He calls you to his office after class. Not right away — no, he waits a full ten minutes after the room clears, like that’ll somehow make this less obvious. You knock once, and when you step inside, he’s leaning against his desk, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Close the door.”

You do.

“Lock it.”

You hesitate, then click it shut behind you. He exhales sharply. Doesn’t look at you.

“We can’t do this anymore,” he says, voice low. You blink. “Can’t do what?” He glares. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not,” you shrug. “You’ll have to be more specific. Do you mean the part where I made you cum in the middle of a lecture? Or the part where you let me?”

His jaw clenches. “Y/N.”

You take a step closer. “Or do you mean the one-night stand? The closet? The fact that you begged me not to stop?”

“Stop.” His voice cracks on the word. You smile sweetly. “You dragged me into this. Not the other way around.”

“I’m your professor.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, desperate. “This has to end before we get caught. Before I lose my job. Before—” You cut him off by sliding between his legs, standing so close your thighs brush his. His hands are still clenched at his sides, like he’s holding on to the last bit of control.

“Then why did you ask me to come here?” He says nothing.

“You could’ve ignored me. Failed me. Told me to stop. But you didn’t.” His eyes lock onto yours, burning with something darker than anger.

“Because you can’t,” you whisper. “You don’t want to.” His breathing is ragged. “That’s not the point.” You lean in, voice softer now. “So make a rule. Try.” You watch him fold, just a little. He grabs your waist and spins you — suddenly, roughly — pinning you between him and the desk.

“No more games,” he says, voice low, lips inches from yours. “No more teasing. You come to class. You do your work. You don’t speak to me unless it’s about the course. Understood?” You raise your chin, defiant. “And if I break the rules?” His grip tightens. “Then you won’t like the consequences.” You smile, slow and wicked. “I think I will.” He growls under his breath, turning away like he needs the space, like he can’t breathe when you’re that close.

You take one step toward the door. Pause. Glance over your shoulder. “Oh,” you add innocently, “I won’t be wearing panties next lecture.” He doesn’t move. But his fingers twitch. And when you finally leave the office, you know you’ve already won.

You knew he wouldn’t last.

Sunghoon made it exactly three days before he cracked.

You showed up to every lecture like the perfect little student.

Took notes, nodded along, answered questions.

Sat right in the front, of course — legs crossed, skirt a little too high, no panties underneath.

You saw the way his eyes lingered.

The way his voice faltered every time he called on you.

You didn’t even have to touch him. Just existed. And watched him unravel.

So really, you weren’t surprised when class ended and he barked your name in front of everyone.

“Y/N. Stay behind.”

You fought your smile. Nodded. Waited.

The second the last student left, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward his office — not saying a word, walking fast, grip tight like he was scared he might change his mind.

The door slammed shut behind you. Locked. And then he shoved you against it.

“I told you to stop,” he growled. You smirked. “But you didn’t want me to.” He kissed you before you could finish the sentence — all tongue and teeth and frustration, like he hated you for what you did to him. His hands were already under your skirt, shoving it up, confirming exactly what he’d been suspecting all week.

“No fucking panties,” he muttered against your lips. “You really are a little slut, huh?”

“Only for you,” you whispered. That’s what did it. He spun you around, bent you over the desk without warning, and shoved your legs apart with his knee. You gasped at the cold wood against your cheek, his hand pushing down between your shoulder blades to keep you there.

“No teasing this time,” he hissed. “You want to play games? Fine. But you’re not leaving this room until I’ve ruined you.” You whined when you felt his fingers glide between your folds — soaking wet, dripping for him already.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled. “You like being used, don’t you?” You nodded desperately. He spanked you, hard. “Use your words.”

“Yes, hoon, yes—!”

He groaned and unzipped his pants so fast it was like he’d been holding back for days. Probably had. You felt the thick head of his cock press against you, tease your entrance, and then— He rammed into you.

No hesitation. No warning.

Just one rough, brutal thrust that had you screaming his name against the desk.

“God—Sunghoon—”

“That’s Professor to you,” he growled, grabbing your hips and slamming into you again.

You were soaked, your body clenching around him like it couldn’t get enough — and you couldn’t. His cock stretched you so deep, so perfectly, it was like your body was made for him. He fucked you hard, fast, filthy — the desk creaking under the weight of it, your nails clawing at the wood, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Thought you could tease me?” he hissed in your ear. “Sit in my class like a good girl and pretend you’re not dripping for me?” You moaned — helpless, breathless, aching for more.

“You don’t get to tease me,” he growled. “You don’t get to fucking win.” He fucked you harder, his cock slamming into your soaked cunt with punishing thrusts, the sound of your bodies echoing off the walls like it was the only thing that mattered. You could feel him everywhere — hands, hips, voice — all of him taking and taking and taking. And then his hand snaked around your front. Two fingers on your clit. Fast, rough, no mercy. You sobbed.

“Too much—!”

“Take it,” he snapped. “You wanted this.”

Your body was already on edge — too sensitive, too full, too overstimulated — and you shattered around him with a scream, legs trembling, pleasure ripping through you like lightning. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you through it, not slowing down, not letting up, chasing his own release with the desperation of a man possessed.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “So deep you’ll still feel me in the morning.”

You whimpered, overstimulated and aching and still somehow needing it.

“Beg for it.”

“Please—fuck—fill me up—need it, please—” That was all he needed. He cursed, shoved deep one last time, and came with a low, broken groan, spilling inside you so hard you could feel it flood your insides — hot, thick, endless.

You stayed there — bent over, legs shaking, completely ruined — as he caught his breath behind you. And then, when he pulled out, his cum dripped down your thighs and onto the floor, and you knew this was it. There was no going back now. He was yours. And you were so far from finished. 

It had only been three days. But you missed him like it’d been weeks.

He was sick — a bad fever, rough cough, too weak to teach, let alone sneak off to fuck you breathless behind his desk.

Still, you called. Every night.

At first, it was innocent. How are you feeling? Are you redtng enough? Do you need anything?

But tonight, something was different.

His voice was lower. Rough from congestion, but still laced with that dark, velvety tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I miss you,” he rasped into the phone. Your breath hitched. “I miss you too.” You were curled under your blankets, phone to your ear, nothing but a t-shirt and your own restless thoughts keeping you company.

“What are you wearing?” he asked suddenly, voice a little more awake now. Teasing. Familiar.

You bit your lip. “Just your shirt.” He groaned quietly. “Fuck.” There was silence for a beat — hot, heavy.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your heart thudded.

“Sunghoon—”

“Please,” he whispered. “I need to hear you.”

Your hand slipped beneath the covers before you could think twice, fingers grazing your thighs, your core already warm and aching. You let out a soft sigh, just for him.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let me hear you, baby.”

“Are you…?” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he said, voice strained. “Got my hand around my cock right now. Thinking about how wet you probably are.”

You whimpered. He knew what to say. Even sick. Even over the phone. He had you melting with nothing but his voice.

“Are you teasing yourself?” he asked. “Or are you already fucking those fingers in deep like I would?”

“Just rubbing,” you gasped. “It’s so sensitive.”

“Wish it was my mouth,” he growled. “I’d suck your clit nice and slow. Keep you spread open and messy for me.” You moaned louder now, fingers working faster, thighs shaking.

“I miss your tongue,” you whimpered. “And your cock. I miss everything.” He groaned again, breath stuttering. “I’m close. Just thinking about you falling apart for me.”

“I’m gonna come,” you panted. “Sunghoon, I—”

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear it.”

And you did — hard, trembling, breath catching as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave.

You heard him gasp, a deep, raw sound on the other end. Then silence. Just heavy breathing. You clutched the phone tighter, flushed and buzzing.

“I can’t wait to fuck you when I’m better,” he said finally, voice thick and low. “Gonna make up for every night I couldn’t touch you.” You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Now go to sleep, baby. I’ll dream about you.”

And you did — still aching, but content. Because even when he wasn’t here, he still was.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was little things. The way his voice softened when he said your name, even when he was pissed. The way he always made sure you got home safe, even if it was just a quiet Text me when you’re in bed.

The way he kissed you when no one was watching — not hurried, not hungry. Just… like he wanted to remember it.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You knew what this was. A mistake. A fling. A secret that could ruin both your lives. But somehow, between the stolen glances and the late-night fucks in his office, you started to feel it. That pull. That ache. It wasn’t just lust anymore. Not for you. So when he texted you at 11:42 PM — come over. need to blow off steam — your heart stupidly fluttered.

And when you showed up at his apartment, when he pulled you in without a word and kissed you like he missed you, you let yourself believe, for just a second, that maybe… maybe he felt it too. You made love that night. Not rough. Not fast. Not like every other time. His hands were gentle. His kisses slow. His body moved with yours like you were something precious — not just a girl he wasn’t supposed to touch.

And afterward, when you curled into him, bare skin against bare skin, you whispered it before you could stop yourself.

“Sunghoon.”

He hummed, half-asleep, arm draped over your waist.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Silence. Not a breath. Not a blink. Just… nothing. You turned your head to look at him. He was wide awake now.

“Y/N,” he said carefully. Too carefully. Your chest tightened. “Say something.”

He sat up, rubbed a hand over his face. “You weren’t supposed to—” You pulled the sheet up around your chest like it could protect you from the sharpness of his words.

“Wasn’t supposed to what?” you asked quietly. “Catch feelings? Think this meant more than just… late-night texts and quick fucks between lectures?”

His jaw tightened. “You knew what this was.”

“Did I?” You blinked at him, heart splintering. “Because it didn’t feel like just sex.”

He didn’t look at you. And that told you everything. You swallowed hard, throat burning.

“You don’t feel anything for me?”

He paused. And then he shook his head once. Quick. Cold.

“I can’t.”

It hit like a slap. You nodded slowly, forcing down the sting. “Right. Of course.”

“Y/N—”

“No, I get it,” you said, getting up and grabbing your clothes. “You’re just my professor. And I’m just the dumb girl who thought maybe this was something.”

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You didn’t look back. Because if you did — if you saw even an ounce of regret in his eyes — you’d break. And you were already breaking. 

You didn’t go to class the next day. Or the next.

You stopped answering his texts. Left them on read. Blocked the number, even — not because you didn’t want to see them, but because you knew you would.

And you were done giving in.

He didn’t love you. He didn’t even like you, not really. To him, you were just a distraction. A body. A pretty little secret to keep him entertained. You weren’t going to be that anymore.

So you went quiet. Silent.

You didn’t show up to his lectures, didn’t sit in the front row in those too-short skirts, didn’t flirt with your eyes across the room. You handed your assignments in online. You stayed invisible. And for a while, it worked.

You didn’t cry anymore. You didn’t dream about his mouth on your skin. You didn’t ache at night thinking about the way he used to look at you like he needed you.

You even let Lily drag you to a party.

He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. Why would a professor hang out with freshmen? But someone else was. He was tall. Soft brown eyes. Big hands. Good Looking

Nice.

You let him kiss you. Let him press you against the wall. Let him fuck you in some stranger’s bedroom with your skirt bunched around your waist.

It wasn’t like Sunghoon. Not even close. But it was something. And for a few minutes, it helped you forget. Until the next morning — when you checked your phone, and saw his name lit up the screen.

Park Sunghoon [3 messages]

Where are you?

You missed another lecture.

Y/N, please.

You stared at the screen for a long time. And then you deleted them. Sunghoon was losing his goddamn mind.

The first day you skipped, he told himself it was nothing.

Maybe you were sick. Hungover. Avoiding him. Whatever.

By the third, he was pacing in his office, checking the attendance sheet, rereading your last assignment just to see if there was a hint — anything — in your tone.

By the fifth, he was showing up to dorm buildings and walking past study halls just to maybe catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening to him. You’d said you were falling for him.

And he’d brushed it off. Because he was scared. Because it wasn’t supposed to happen. I mean, what was he thinking? Fucking his student relentlessly thinking she wouldn’t fall for him? But now? Now he realized he’d been lying to himself the entire time. He missed you.

More than just your body. More than the games. He missed your laugh. Your attitude. Your soft little sighs when you fell asleep against his chest.

He missed you. And when he saw you again — two weeks later, walking across campus in a low-cut top and short skirt, laughing with some guy he didn’t recognize — it hit him like a fucking truck.

You were moving on. And he was still stuck in the night you left. He waited until the guy walked off. Then followed you.

“Y/N.”

You stopped. Turned. Your expression shifted from surprised to cold in half a second.

“I’m busy.”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Please—”

“You made it clear how you felt,” you said, voice sharp. “Don’t backpedal now.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—” You crossed your arms. “You meant it enough to let me walk out.” He hesitated. “You blocked my number.”

“You said it was just sex,” you snapped. “So why would I stay?” He looked at you — really looked at you — and something in his face cracked.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “That’s not an excuse. But I didn’t know what to do. I’m your professor. I could lose everything.”

You stared at him, trying not to let your heart soften.

“And now?”

He stepped closer. Slower this time. Careful, like you might run.

“Now I don’t care,” he whispered. “I’d risk everything if you’d just look at me the way you used to.”

You looked away.

Because you still wanted to.

But he’d already broken you once.

And you weren’t sure you could let him close enough to do it again.

You lay there in the dark, chest heaving, body limp from everything he’d just taken from you — and everything you’d given him.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. His hand rested on your thigh, thumb stroking absently over your skin like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. Like if he kept touching you, maybe you wouldn’t disappear again. You should’ve pulled away. Should’ve said this doesn’t change anything. But it did. It changed everything.

And when you finally found your voice, it was quiet. Fragile.

“You can’t keep doing that.”His thumb stilled. “Doing what?”

“Acting like it’s nothing one second, then showing up the next like you’d burn the world down for me.” He turned toward you, arm curling around your waist.

“I would,” he said simply. “Burn it all down.”

Your chest tightened. “Then why did you let me go?”

He exhaled, forehead pressing gently to yours. “Because I thought I had to.”

“But you don’t now?”

“I can’t let you go again,” he whispered. “Not after that. Not after this.”

You searched his eyes.

And this time, you didn’t find silence. Didn’t find cold. You found regret. Longing.

Something that looked too close to love to ignore.

“Say it,” you breathed. “Say it wasn’t just sex.” He didn’t even hesitate.

“It never was.”

The breath you’d been holding spilled out all at once, shaky and full of every broken piece you’d been holding in since the start. You closed your eyes, voice cracking.

“Me either.” He kissed your temple, your jaw, your lips — slow and reverent, like he finally understood what he’d almost lost. And when he pulled you against him, wrapping himself around you like a shield, you knew something had shifted for good.

This wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t a secret. This wasn’t a one-night stand stretched into months of denial. This was real. And this time, neither of you was running.

was so horny writing this (send req)

perm taglist 🏷️ @kristynaaah @firstclassjaylee @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @sheseung @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @blckorchidd @gyulune @zerere @marimariiisblog @pinknjm @bloomiize @flwwon @ziiao @heelovver @sxie-txt

💌 perm taglist request

[batboopp]

as much as I love batgirl 2024, I have to admit the lack of Barbara Gordon mentions in the whole series so far, especially with the first arc having such a big theme of motherhood/daughterhood and the things that comes with it, makes me soo sad. Barbara was the first person Cass actually considered as a mother! Barbara, although she wasn’t the best at it at first, truly did try to understand and love Cass unconditionally even when she was separated from the Bat mantle! And that panel where Cass overhears Barbara tell Dick that she doesn’t know how to really care for Cass could’ve been the perfect parallel to the whole “is a Mother just being connected by blood? No, Something more is owed/Being a daughter is more than being connected by blood” lines that Cass says in the last (current) issue because Barbara, though she did not physically bring Cass into this world, has sacrificed SO much for her, and in return Cass gave so much back.

[anaburbononburbon]

One of my favorite series!!!!

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Five

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, jealousy, manipulation, brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 4k

At breakfast, an unfamiliar soldier comes to apologize. Ghost’s jealousy rears its head.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

It’s the noise that hits you first. A visceral gut punch of sound that sends you reeling toward homesickness. The dining hall is packed with people. They sit at long tables and round ones, talking and eating and talking. Living their lives. Simply existing.

But the realization of where you are is far stronger than any yearning for home and community. There are no children chasing each other, their joyful cries echoing off the walls. There is no lazy strumming of a guitar from the corner. No cheerful faces eager to greet you, to invite you to the table, to break bread and ask about your day.

The room is full of soldiers. Blood-drenched creatures. Unknown faces. Male gazes.

A sweaty staleness hangs in the air, mixing with the salty bite of bacon on the griddle. This space is a gnarling twist of enemy territory and diner. A submergence in a warped reality of the past. There is something hauntingly nostalgic about the wood walls and metal ceiling, as if you’re child again at summer camp.

When it rains, do the droplets ring against the metal? Do they sing soft pings to the soldiers as they eat?

“Two legs,” growls Ghost from behind you, the fabric of the balaclava a teasing scratch against the curve of your ear. “And yet you refuse to walk.”

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

And you allowed this man to tongue your pussy? To slide his cum-coated thumb into your mouth? It doesn’t matter how good he made you feel, or how, for a fraction of a moment, the reality of your situation melted away, leaving you only with lust. Survival cradled you, and delivered you into Ghost’s arms because it’s all you know.

Foolish.

Reeling Lieutenant Riley in didn’t have to involve you spreading your legs for him. A kiss or two would have suffice. But loneliness is a fickle disconnect of melancholy, leading you quickly toward a mistake that could have upended everything. You don’t know Soap, but you silently thank him for knocking on the door and dissolving whatever haze invaded your senses when Ghost had you under him.

The easy thing would be to snap at Lieutenant Riley. It’s what you want to do. But this is not the place to tell him off or cause a scene even if he deserves a bit of lip. You are surrounded—caged in by people who’d have his back before yours. There are no friends here. Not even Ghost.

You glance over your shoulder, that whiskey gaze of his biting back with a hint of a spark.

Ghost. Lieutenant Riley.

Your sentinel. Guardian. Protector. Captor.

Best to be the quiet doe here and bow before the stag.

“I don’t know this place,” you reply softly, lowering your gaze in submission.

Ghost’s head tilts slightly, assessing. “No,” he agrees. “You don’t.”

Timidness is the key to his gentleness as much as your dagger tongue. It’s a bit debilitating—nearly a whiplash. Navigating Lieutenant Riley is a windstorm. But like any storm, it will pass. You need only weather him.

Ghost’s gaze turns outward into the dining hall, eyes narrowing. “Stay close to me,” he murmurs, and the tenderness in his voice makes you pause.

Like the gunshots that seemed never-ending, Ghost spoke to you in the same tone, covering your ears, coaxing you to look only at him. These fleeting moments of kindness and affection make no sense. It’s like he wants to possess you and yet smack you down with equal measure.

You sense a phantom hand on your lower back, simply hovering, a breath away from touching. Ghost doesn’t need to touch you to herd you where he wants. A few steps, unbidden, and you move forward into the communal dining hall. No longer hiding just inside the door, you’re out in the open now, on display.

Soldiers at tables nearest you glance in your direction. Their voices become murmured whispers or fizzle out entirely. Here, you are an oddity. Perhaps an apparition. This is not a place for civilians, and the way some of the men leer is a clear indication that if Ghost weren’t standing next to you, they’d approach. The very threat of it forces you to take a step closer to him.

Whether Ghost notices your nervousness or not is an entirely different matter. Lieutenant Riley walks with heavy confidence, his head held high as if he’s proud that you’re at his side, and the men staring at you means nothing. For you, it takes more effort to act like him, to pretend that this isn’t a curling nightmare.

You want to go home. You want your bed and your books and your archive.

Ghost’s footsteps are easy to follow. One. Two. One. Two. With his phantom hand at the small of your back, Lieutenant Riley keeps you at his side and just to the front of him, urging you closer to the front of the communal dining hall where a massive buffet lines the wall. Soldiers move along the queue at different intervals, filling their plates with the morning fare. Unlike Lieutenant Riley and the rest of his team, not everyone is in all black. There are plenty in green fatigues, even dark blue that remind you of sailors. A few are clad in tactical gear like they’re trying to shovel some food down before taking off. There are others that are completely dressed down, more casual but still in uniform.

A whiff of cooking food drifts toward you, stirring your stomach to rumbling.

Ghost’s hand finally connects, purposefully steering you to an open spot in line. A small spike of anxiety flares. It’s just a goddamn food line but you don’t know the order of things, and you’re surrounded by strangers.

But the worry is silly, because you don’t even lift a finger.

Ghost brings you to an open spot and promptly grabs a black tray, placing it in front of you. A plate appears, followed by a few napkins and silverware. You stare; a bit surprised by how he handled it so calmly. You didn’t have to think about anything. Not a single neuron fired.

Ghost nods toward the immense line of food. “Eat whatever you want.”

Whatever you want? Truly?

Briefly glancing over the long buffet line, you turn back to Lieutenant Riley, a hint of disbelief in your tone. “I can do that? Put whatever I want onto my plate?”

Ghost inclines his head. “You’re under my protection.”

As if that answers your fucking question. Sometimes he’s so damn cryptic.

“And what about you?” you ask. “Are you eating?”

Eating in this room with all these eyes on you is daunting. Eating alone sounds worse.

“Already ate,” replies Ghost with a husky drawl.

Images of Lieutenant Riley’s naked body invade, reminding you of your lusty mistake, and how nice he looked when his lips and chin were glossy with your arousal.

“You hardly finished,” you mumble, quickly glancing away in embarrassment.

Ghost makes a humph sound, and though you can only see his eyes, the curling pinch of lines in the corners tells you enough. This man is fucking smirking.

He starts to lean in, and your heartrate quickens. The intimacy is akin to a shared secret.

“Lieutenant Riley!”

Both of you turn abruptly. Ghost pushes off from the metal rail, his shoulders straightening, demeanor changing completely due to whoever’s just addressed him. You scan the unfamiliar faces, only for an older man to appear through the crowd. It’s clear from his uniform that he’s above Ghost in rank, but you wouldn’t be able to say how. Military ranks and the hierarchy of authority isn’t clear to you. And this isn’t the “Price” you met last night. It’s someone else. Someone you don’t know.

“Grab what you want, love. Find an empty seat. I’ll come to you,” says Ghost, not even looking at you as he says it.

Then he’s gone. Poof. Like cigarette smoke drifting into the air.

The large communal dining hall suddenly shrinks, becoming insufferable and stuffy.

Run. Run.

Run. But where to? Where the fuck can you go on a goddamn military base? If you bolt out of here, Ghost would chase you, knock you down and shove his boot into your back. Or maybe he’d take you back to the private barracks, toss you onto the bed, and deal out a bit of punishment. Either would be fucking embarrassing, and no matter how much the animal in you wants to flee, you remain firmly in line, staring at the food as you breathe in through your nostrils and out through your mouth.

Calm. Calm calm calm. Zen. Deep breaths.

You’re fine. Everything is fine. You’re safe.

Saliva pools in your mouth, and the fresh aroma of baked bread creeps up your nostrils. Food. You can focus on that. You can feed yourself and then take the next step after, whatever the fuck that might be. Before you are a plethora of options. Back home, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all set affairs. Everyone eats the same unless someone has a dietary restriction for medical reasons. There is no display. No bounty. No cornucopia of a feast.

After the world fractured, this amount of food was unimaginable.

Fluffy pancakes. Greasy bacon. Scrambled eggs. Potato hash loaded with vegetables. There are bowls full of color fruit. Oatmeal with different toppings. Grits. These are American classics, but they aren’t the only options. There are fried eggs over rice and even a stuffed flatbread that smells faintly of cumin. It’s made to accommodate many tastes. Options for everyone. Beyond that, you glimpse baskets piled high with fresh bread, and next to that, condiments. You even spy a bottle of hot sauce and a container holding kimchi.

For a moment, it feels like before, as if you were waking up in a hotel and down in the lobby standing before a continental breakfast.

Is this normal? Do the people who live in the safe zones always feast like this? Or is this simply reserved for those willing to pick up a gun for the sake of humanity? Are they fed well to keep them happy?

There’s no use in worrying over what you don’t know. Eventually you’ll find out. Lieutenant Riley intends to take you to the safe zone after all, and once there, you’ll get your answers.

Grabbing the scoop for the scrambled eggs, you dig in, lifting up a heaping amount to place onto your plate.

“I’d avoid that.”

The masculine voice nearly makes you jump right out of your skin. You drop the scoop, the egg returning to the chaffer with a splat. Little specks of egg go flying, landing on the surrounding metal.

“You’ll be in the latrine the rest of the day.”

Jesus.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of the sudden newcomer.

He’s a bit shorter than Lieutenant Riley, perhaps by a few inches, and he wears a similar uniform of all black fatigues. On his upper bicep is the flag of the United Nations and the United States.

He shrugs. Inclines his head. “Or you’ll be fine. Bit of a hit or miss. Depending on the day.”

There’s a slightly southern lilt in his voice. Not Deep South like Mississippi or Louisiana. It’s too neutral. Perhaps northern Arkansas. Maybe even southern Missouri.

But it’s not like you’d ask. In fact, you’re fucking annoyed. There’s already one annoying man in your life. You don’t need two.

“Which is it?” you ask, feigning a smile.

The stranger gazes over the glass, gaze narrowing slightly. Finding whatever he’s looking for, he nods in affirmation. “It’s a good batch.”

How long do you have to amuse him before he’ll move on?

“How can you tell?” you ask, adding some of the eggs to your plate.

He runs his fingers through his dusty brown hair. “It’s who’s at the griddle.” You open your mouth, a reply on your tongue, but this stranger trudges on. Continues talking. “If Four Fingers is on the griddle, you’re good. Always cleans between whatever he’s cooking.”

No. No. This is fucking weird.

“I’m sorry,” you say, holding up your hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Please get the fuck away from me.

And where the fuck is Ghost?

“Sergeant Noah Fields.” He extends his hand in a warm greeting. Reluctantly, you take it. The shake is firm but not overly domineering. “I was with Lieutenant Riley’s group,” he says when you drop your hand.

Not really helpful, and you don’t hesitate to say so. “You were all wearing balaclavas,” you reply, taking a step forward to indicate that you’re leaving the conversation. “Can’t say I recognize you.”

Sergeant Fields doesn’t take the hint.

“No, ma’am,” he laughs, some of that southern drawl making a quick appearance. “Suppose you wouldn’t.” he shrugs, walking beside you. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Everything compounds, pushing you back into a place you don’t want to return to. Running for your life. The whizz of bullets flying through the air. A gun at your temple. It wasn’t only Lieutenant Riley that you met. There were others. Three for sure that touched you. Many more looking on.

And which one is he?

You take another step, skipping what looks to be eggs baked into a tomato sauce. A whiff of spice drifts up, and your nose twitches.

“Listen,” continues Sergeant Fields, tone sheepish. “I ow you an apology.” You pause at the hash, briefly glancing at him but saying nothing as you scoop some onto your plate next to the eggs. “A big one.”

“Do you?” you muse, returning the scoop to its cradle.

Where is Ghost? He’d put an end to this conversation. For that, you’d be grateful.

“It’s why I’m interrupting your breakfast.”

That’s obvious.

“And what are you apologizing for?” you prod, entertaining him for the sake of it.

While part of you would enjoy blatantly ignoring him, you also know that you’re not in any position of leverage. Ghost has stepped away. There is no brooding buffer to chase off Sergeant Fields.

He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent agitation. A little red flag waves in your head. It’s clear that he’s working up to something, but you don’t know him. They all wore balaclavas. This man is a complete stranger.

“Look,” you say, starting to lift your tray. “Whatever it is—”

“No,” he interrupts. “No. You deserve an apology.”

You go to step around him, but Sergeant Fields backs up, forcing you back to the buffet rail. “Stop. Just—stop. Did Lieutenant Riley put you up to this?”

“Did—” He blinks. Startled. “No.” He rubs at his chest. “I’ve been wanting to apologize since we’ve arrived at base. Heard from the others that you’d been cleared. That you’re being taken back to the safe zone.”

“Per the mandate,” you say slowly.

Sergeant Fields disregards this, moving on. “I treated you poorly. Called you…”

A coldness creeps in, turning your bones and blood to ice. Only three people talked to your directly. And only one called you a name that made you snarl.

These fuckers don’t let their breeders out of their sight.

“Breeder,” you finish for him. “You called me a breeder.”

This motherfucker. Ghost might be a bastard, but this asshole is a fucking villain. He didn’t just call you a “breeder.” He did much worse—insinuated worse.

Sergeant Fields flushes slightly. “I did,” he affirms like a kicked dog.

Time to dig in. To show a bit of fang while you have the upper hand. “And you stuck your fingers in my mouth to look at my teeth.” The venom in your voice is lethal.

The sadness on his face deepens. “I did,” he confirms, denying nothing. “And I’ve come to apologize. To ask forgiveness.” Sergeant Fields sighs. Licks his lips. “I thought you were with—fuck.” He pauses. Starts over. “I judged you. Treated you poorly. That was wrong. Even if you were with them, I know how they treat their women. I should have been kinder with you. And I wasn’t.”

You don’t know this man, but you may not see him again after this. Perhaps you’re about to stroke his ego, but there is nothing on the surface that indicates nefarious intent. Sergeant Fields doesn’t leer, and he doesn’t glance away to stare at your body. He looked you in the face as he gave you his apology.

“I accept, Sergeant,” you sigh.

His solemn demeanor changes, a grin spreading across his face. “Noah. Please.”

“Noah,” you repeat.

“Well, ma’am.” He points to the chaffer next to you. “I’d recommend the pancakes. The grits aren’t too bad. Just add some honey and butter. Or if you’re of the savory kind, a fried egg with a dash of hot sauce.”

“Noted,” you smile, because this is much better conversation, even if you’re ready for Ghost to come rescue you. “Is this standard? The variety?”

Noah takes a step back, allowing you plenty of space to slide your tray down the line. “A few things rotate. Depending on availability. All the safe zones trade with each other.”

So, there are more? But how many?

“Sometimes, the safe zones south of us send citrus. It’s always a rush to the line when lemons and oranges make it here. Bananas, too. But we see those maybe once a year.” Noah snags a bowl of colorful fruit, placing it on your tray. “You can imagine the mayhem when they send us avocados.”

As you open your mouth to answer, a large shadow falls across the two of you. Noah’s charming smile melts like a vaporized ice cream cone. Straightening, Noah becomes stiff and stoic, staring just off to the right of your shoulder.

You turn slowly and find your masked kidnapper hovering there, arms crossed over his chest, the middle of his brow a sharpened v.

“Sergeant Fields,” growls Ghost.

Oh. This is interesting. There’s something here. Something you might be able to manipulate.

“Lieutenant,” you greet with a sunny smile. “You’re back.”

You’re far too cheery, and Ghost knows it. When his gaze slowly slides in your direction, his irritation with Noah turns into a silent “really?”

“Noah was helping me.” You turn toward Sergeant Fields. “Isn’t that right?”

He visibly swallows. “That’s right, Lieutenant.”

Ghost is unwavering. That whiskey-brown gaze of his locks onto Noah like bloodied daggers. “I can take it from here, Sergeant.”

“Course, sir,” nods Noah. He briefly turns toward you. “Glad we can start over.”

As he walks away from you and Ghost, you start sliding your tray down the line. Ghost grabs the edge, halting all forward movement. You don’t even entertain him with an answer. Instead, you attempt to shove your tray into his hand.

“What did he say to you?”

You narrow your gaze. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“What,” says Ghost slowly. “Did he say?”

Fucking hell, this man is insufferable sometimes.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “We made small talk.” You jerk the tray again, but Ghost keeps his hand firmly in place. “Is there an issue, Lieutenant?”

“First names. Fresh starts,” he lists. “A flirt.”

“Let go of my tray.”

“What did he say to you?” repeats Ghost.

“You know, Lieutenant,” you sigh heavily. “I think you’re jealous.”

It’s a flicker. An ember that flares then cools. Ghost’s pupils dilate slightly then retract. It’s unnerving the way he’s staring at you.

“Stay away from him,” he breathes, the command smoke-laced.

In this, he wants you to obey—to submit to his authority. The commonality here is that Ghost can take orders as well as give them. But unlike Sergeant Fields, you won’t allow Ghost to push you around. Not all the time.

“Look at you, Lieutenant. Didn’t even deny it.”

The tease is a poke. Like a needle under the nail.

“Like I said. Stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s untrustworthy.”

“Wow,” you exclaim. “That is super helpful. Thank you so much for explaining. I totally understand now.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” replies Ghost, releasing the tray.

The release in pressure nearly sends you stumbling. With a huff, you brush by Ghost, purposefully catching his arm with your shoulder. Keeping your focus on the trays of food, you add more to your plate. Some of the options are foods you haven’t seen in over six years. It’s all sitting there in front of you, begging you to take it.

“Do you know him?”

Ghost’s question startles you.

“Do I know him?” you ask, a bit baffled.

“Glad we can start over?” he prompts, repeating what Noah said just minutes ago.

You roll your eyes. “Fucking ridiculous,” you mutter. Lifting your tray off the rail, you walk around Ghost, heading for the baked bread.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You grab the tongs and pick out a few pieces still steaming from the oven. “Am I allowed to eat my breakfast in peace?”

“No.”

“Wonderful,” you muse flatly, moving over to the beverages. “Aren’t you going to eat?” you ask, changing the subject.

“Told you,” replies Ghost. “I already did.”

“I don’t count.”

Ghost leans against the counter, his back to the carafes of coffee, his front facing the dining hall. There’s movement in your peripheral. Someone approaching. You don’t even have the chance to see who because Ghost growls at them like a dog giving a warning.

“Really?” you side-eye, grabbing a glass of water.

“He was staring at your arse.”

Placing the glass on your tray, you turn toward Simon, one hand resting against the counter. “Who the fuck are you talking about?”

“Sergeant Fields.”

“Oh, please,” you guffaw.

“Noah. Since the two of you are on first names.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Ghost grabs your water glass and moves it. “Balance is off. Tray will tip when you lift it.”

“Can we just have a normal morning?” you ask. It’s a simple request. “Without—” You gesture between the two of you. “Whatever the fuck this is.”

Ghost’s upper body shifts in your direction, but you suddenly realize that you’re not finished. That you’re not actually wanting an answer.

“Also. How the fuck would you even know that? He was standing directly in front of me. When did he even have the time?”

Ghost inclines his head, speaks casually. “I caught him staring before he came up to you.”

“You’re making shit up.”

“I don’t lie.”

You lift your tray off the counter, deciding it’s best to go find a seat and leave Ghost behind. This conversation is exhausting. And your eggs are going cold. But before you even take a step, Ghost is right there, grabbing the tray out of your hands and putting it back on the counter.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

Ghost moves in. Dangerously so. “I. Don’t. Lie.”

“Do keep stroking your own ego.”

His voice lowers, becomes that soft croon when he spoke sweetly to you. Promised you things. Promised you protection. “Please,” and you realize he’s begging. “Stay away from him.”

This is beyond ridiculous. It borders on possession. Ghost may have ripped you from your life only to thrust you into a new one, but he’s not anything to you. He’s simply an instrument. Something you can wield so that you make it out the other side alive.

You take a step forward, leaning into him in the same way you offered yourself. “I was willing this morning,” you whisper. “I…wanted you.” Your confession is sin-drenched, and it pulls the reaction you want. The middle of Ghost’s brow softens, and then there is nothing but pure longing. “In a way,” you continue. “I think I still do.”

It’s not untrue. It felt good to be beneath him, for his hands to roam and touch, to taste and consume.

But this confessional is not to please him.

You withdraw the allure. Find the devil in you.

“And now you’re fucking hurt because another man spoke to me.”

Even the balaclava cannot hide his sharp inhale. “Sergeant Fields is a fucking snake.”

You say it slowly, each word like the prick of a dagger tip. “Choke on my dick, Lieutenant.”

It starts a soft, musing chuckle. Then a laugh. All that fire within you extinguishes, put out by the flood that is Ghost.

“Oh, dove,” he purrs. “You’ll look bloody gorgeous choking on mine.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @xllizs @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet @tessakate @mistresssolana

[unboundprompts]

Hey unbound!! I was wondering, have you written anything for "how to write Enemies to Lovers"? I LOVE the trope but have a hard time ever making it feel realistic to me

How to Write Enemies to Lovers

1. Establish a Real, Believable Conflict

The characters shouldn’t hate each other just because. Make sure their "enemy" status is rooted in something meaningful:

Clashing goals or values

A betrayal or misunderstanding

Socioeconomic, cultural, or professional rivalry

One perceives the other as a threat

Avoid making one character just "mean" for no reason, that risks turning the story into bullying-turned-romance.

2. Make Them Equals

Both characters should challenge each other, not dominate or belittle. Whether in intellect, skill, or influence, their push-and-pull dynamic should feel balanced. This keeps the conflict engaging and the chemistry sharp.

If one character starts with more power (social, political, magical, etc.), show the balance shift or even out over time. Maybe the more powerful one learns humility. Maybe the underdog gains confidence or leverage. This keeps the romance from feeling one-sided or unbalanced.

3. Gradually Shift the Tone

Let the hatred evolve in stages: Irritation → Respect → Curiosity → Affection → Love

Sprinkle moments of:

Vulnerability (they see a new side of the other)

Unexpected teamwork (they’re forced to rely on each other)

Banter that turns from biting to flirtatious

4. Use Intimacy in Small Doses

Tension thrives in proximity. Make them interact often, maybe unwillingly at first. Body language, awkward silences, or a brush of the hand can say a lot when feelings are complicated. Don’t rush the romance. The longer it simmers, the more satisfying the payoff.

5. Force Them to Re-Evaluate

Something should cause a shift in perspective, maybe the "enemy" does something selfless or shows surprising depth. They realize their initial judgment was wrong or incomplete. Internal conflict is key here. Let them resist falling in love before they accept it.

6. Let Them See Each Other at Their Worst... and Best

It’s easy to love someone when they’re charming. But realistic enemies-to-lovers arcs involve characters witnessing each other’s low points (failures, flaws, vulnerability, etc.) This builds empathy, and that’s what turns conflict into connection.

7. Acknowledge the Past

Don’t sweep their antagonistic history under the rug. Have them talk about it. A good resolution includes:

An apology or mutual understanding

Growth from both sides

Acknowledgement that love doesn’t erase the past, but it builds on top of it

8. Give Them a Bond That Justifies the Shift

Love isn’t just "we stopped fighting." It’s "we learned from our differences." Let them find something shared:

A common goal

A mutual vulnerability

A deep belief or value

Even just a sense of humor that breaks the tension

9. Keep Their Voice Consistent Through the Shift

As they fall for each other, don’t make them suddenly sappy or soft-spoken unless it’s in character or they’re resisting it. Keep their sarcasm, bluntness, or bite, but redirect it. Now, it’s flirtier. More protective. Slightly gentler.

10. Make Their Love Transform Them, But Not Fix Them

They shouldn’t change their core beliefs for the other, but because of the experience the other provides. They challenge each other’s worldviews, make each other question things. The love should feel like a consequence of character growth, not the cause of it.

11. Your Readers Should Ship It Before the Characters Do

Plant the emotional groundwork early, even if the characters are being stubborn. Your readers should start rooting for them mid-argument, mid-banter, mid-moment-of-tension.

[starkid-smosh]

Idk man something's in the air recently.. Damien has always looked adoringly at her but it's even MORE so now. And Angela is looking so much fonder at him too. "Aww Damien's laugh is still kinda the same" *she says in the softest fondest voice while being the living embodiment of the 🥺🥰 emojis* lives RENT FREE in my head. I love seeing how much closer they keep getting. Idk what changed but I'm loving it

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- how you treat others vs. how they treat you!

welcome back my loves to another pick a pile reading with yours truly, how is everyone doing? i hope you're all doing great <3

what i'm inviting you to do in this reading is self reflection, especially if you're one of those souls that gives more than they receive.

anyway, you know the drill. this is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not, luv u <3

⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,

pile 1: this pile made me feel so much tbh...it's like there's an innate hope inside you that's slowly fading away from dealing with shitty people. you want friends, you want love, you want connection but you're also afraid of it. you are such a kind soul to be honest, it's very possible that you have been taken advantage of before and i am truly sorry about that.

you want to be open, spontaneous, fun and careless (the fool) but you have been burned a few too many times to keep people at arm's length, by this point you simply know better. you are so guarded when it comes to new people into your life and i do not blame you for it, i believe it is natural to fear others after an array of bad events, one after the other.

you might be one of those souls that sees potential in people before the reality and you might confuse fantasy with love which is why you got let down before. there is a deep fear of loss or betrayal under the surface so you tend to withhold vulnerability until it feels safe enough to do so. you are also someone who tends to suppress their needs, you give people space to disappoint you because you are investing more in what they could be rather than what they actually are. you might gravitate towards passive partners/friends in your life, someone who won't plan anything until you do it yourself. the truth is, you don't need to do that. you don't need to earn love by doing more.

how others treat you: as i mentioned before, people don't really want to plan or actively participate in building something with you in terms of activities or connection because they feel like there's innate emotional distance between you and them. they're curious, they might even offer some consistency but they don't really take risks emotionally speaking, they tend to keep you in limbo (the hanged man) with stagnant situations, unsolved dynamics, it's like they forget you exist until you actually hit them up. people might also randomly text you to hang out last minute because they don't really prioritize you or your friendship or they promise you to hang out with you sometime soon and they never do. you might also be someone who had to switch friend groups often because people are attracted but they're sort of not ready to invest long term, you find yourself waiting and waiting, and just when you're about to give up they drop a breadcrumb or rush in with a surge of attention or promises only to not follow through once again. it is exhausting but at the same time i feel like you're sort of allowing for it to happen by staying friends/dating this type of people. they do not serve you well at all.

you are carrying emotional loads that were never yours to bear in the first place, you deserve to be someone's priority rather than a last minute back up plan. you don’t have to carry the weight of every unspoken conversation, every failed connection. your healing starts when you choose ease. choose someone who shares the burden, not someone who adds to it. you are absolutely worthy of reciprocity pile one and i hope you'll stop accepting crumbs soon.

pile 2: you are someone who loves and supports people in silence or in secret. you study people before deciding to interact with them, you get to know their soul before sharing yours. you are someone who really cares about loyalty, you are protective of your circle and you are extremely patient with them but something tells me that you're lonely, even if you hide it with intellect and sarcasm. you want to be known but you rarely let yourself be seen and then you wonder why nobody gets you, you're the friend who always checks in but never says "hey i'm actually struggling too" and i feel like that adds another layer of complexity to you, pile 2. it's hard to admit to be human too when others expect you to be the total opposite of that in a way. you're always the strong one, in all of your relationships and that makes you retreat further more emotionally.

how others treat you: people admire you, especially for your ride or die attitude for your friends. unfortunately there's also this feeling of an imbalanced dynamic where people expect you to act the way they want you to, everything has to be done on their terms and your feelings and needs might get cast aside, especially in planning. people around you might want you around yes but on their terms, your time is taken for granted and the roles here seem pretty rigid to me. they assume you have it all together, you might be the therapist or confidante friend. people also kind of want to control you, like they want you to fix them?? lol it's weird because they do respect you (again, in their own way) but they also want you to fit into their ideal. they expect you to be this ultimate hype girl persona without giving the same in return, weird. you deserve tenderness and someone who sees through your armor, you're strong but it doesn't mean that you don't deserve to be held, not just admired. your softness is not a weakness, let others nurture it too. you are a gift, not a burden. <3

pile 3: you always show up for others, you are the ultimate support friend. life of the party mixed with the therapist and mom friend all at the same time. you love in a truly generous, nostalgic way, you also tend to be the emotional anchor in your relationships, offering others insights on their needs and emotions. it's like people need you to tell them what's wrong with them and how they can fix it lmao, they feel like they need you because you're someone who's seen as a problem solver. you always know what to do. you are supportive, loyal and VERY invested in your circles and mutual growth and seeing others win. truly a one of a kind friend. you bring memories, magic, devotion and fairy dust to any of your relationships, you make people feel so seen and safe pile 3, but do they extend the same love to you? you create so many core memories for people, you're someone who's always present in other people's stories and fun facts but i feel like those people are simply not giving you back the same energy.

how others treat you: this is heavy because you might be someone who attracts narcissists or unavailable numbed individuals into your life, they're not here to extend the same sort of love to you, they're here to be healed by you. you give soul level love to people who are emotionally bankrupt, especially in love. i am sorry but it feels like people in your life are lowkey disappointing, they ghost you, they leave you even after all of that. you offer them true, pure partnership and they offer regret and pain, thanks i guess? many of the people you love are emotionally unavailable and don't know how to give back, not out of malice but because they're empty. you cannot fix them. you're not a shelter on a mission to rescue wounded people from themselves or their apathy, you are a LIGHT in this world and you deserve someone present and way better than anybody else who has left you before. you are allowed to move on from people who can't meet you in your fullness, new beginnings are always possible. you are a literal angel, your emotional generosity is sacred. stop chasing ghosts, i beg you.

thank you so much for reading, have a lovely day/night <3

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

So You Wanna 'Revive' Your Show

Hi Tim. This took me like ten minutes because I actually have two brain cells to rub together. <3

Give the 911 call center more to do. Linda and Sue especially in my opinion.

Go back to what made the show great in the first place which was the core characters becoming/being a family.

Mix up the dynamics. Remember Chim and Bobby's friendship in season one? Hen and Athena's bestieism? Bring that back along with some lesser seen dynamics. I want more of Chim and Karen's friendship. Have Maddie and Bobby work together on something. Pair Athena and Eddie together and have Athena realize just how like her husband Eddie is (and maybe in doing so they help each other get perspective on other things).

Give Bobby a promotion and have him deal with that (although so soon after he quit being an advisor and was clearly enjoying being captain might not work but something to consider).

Have Athena retire and become a private investigator.

More fun filler episodes. A bottle episode where they have a boring day at the station. An episode made up entirely of B shift or the non-firefam members of A shift like SG-1's The Other Guys. An episode entirely from Jee-Yun's point of view showing a young child's perspective of crazy silly adult drama. Boys Night Out/Girls Night Out a la Leverage. "Alternate universe" episodes like Bones' season four finale and Castle's Blue Butterfly episode.

Keep Buck single for a while and give him a safe haven baby. Another way to bond with Hen and Karen over adoption, another way to bond with his sister, and another way to bond with Bobby by making him a grandfather. And oh, hey, Eddie, you want to help me coparent?

Maybe stop having all of Eddie's important shit happen offscreen, I don't know if there's BTS beef or what but grow the fuck up and keep it out of the script. Professionalism, heard of it?

Make Buddie canon. Yes my bias is showing but it's what a large percentage of your audience and media reporters have been clambering after for years. Put guns to heads if you must. Jesus. You want to revitalize the show that's literally the number one way to do it. You dumbasses.

Okay I always said I didn't want it and I still don't but fine. fine! do a musical episode! if that's the price of Bobby's life I'll fucking pay it!!!

Maybe relearn the concept of arcs that last an entire season and not just two-three episodes.

Michael and David have a destination wedding and every single firefam member encounters some kind of emergency, either life-threatening or comedy-of-errors, that means they all show up looking like they got run over by trucks.

RASHOMON EPISODE. For either dramatic or comedic effect. Or both.

Everyone loved the heist episodes like The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1 and Ocean's 9-1-1. Like come on you fuckwit let the show be fun again.

Actually commit to giving any of the main characters a pet. I know everyone wants Buck but it could be Athena and Bobby, Hen and Karen, Maddie and Chim... personally I would love to see Eddie get hit by the Cat Distribution System.

Firefighters do charity drives all the time, go to schools to do talks about fire safety - show the team interacting with the local community more. Show the parents interacting with their kids' schools or the parents of their friends' kids a bit more. I want to see Eddie and Karen fight the PTA.

It's not hard. That's what gets me. You don't actually worry about the show becoming stagnant. You just wanted to do a really big shocking holy shit episode that everyone would be talking about, forgetting that truly good shows earn those. Shit shows that pull that kind of nonsense lose their audience and get cancelled. You did it because you're a mediocre, boring, never-quite-popular-enough egotist with an inferiority complex who was luckily born with a dick so you fell upward your entire career, and you orgasm to other people's pain.

And for once in my life? I hope cast/crew do know my tumblr. I hope they are on here. I hope they fucking read this, and I hope they print it out and tape it to your office door and every other door on set they can manage like Martin fucking Luther. I want you to go to bed at night knowing you are despised and that a starving barely-breaking-even idiot who wrote a stripper!Buck fanfic knows more about television writing and comes up with better ideas than you do.

To quote David Lynch, fix your heart or die.

[erosastro]

Pick a pile three times and let’s get a peak into your future

Home/Family Life (Pile one: Tigers Eye, Pile Two: Amethyst and Pile Three: Black Tourmaline)

Pile one: Tigers Eye

At the moment, your home and family life might feel a little chaotic. Maybe like you’re pulled in every direction and don’t know how to ground yourself. You may be feeling a lot of internal conflict regarding something; you’re questioning things and dynamics, I’m hearing. There might be secrets or manipulation that you’re trying to work through. This will turn around, the key is finding your inner strength, it’s looking beyond the veil and staying true to yourself. I keep hearing self love. There’s going to be a very powerful and much needed time of introspection in order for you to stay grounded and learn to trust your intuition because you’re going to come out of this as the queen of cups. Don’t be afraid to dig a little deeper to find things within yourself that maybe you’re too scared to face at the moment or are working up the courage to. Leo energy is very strong. It’s all about your confidence and believing in yourself, pile one.

Pile two: Amethyst

I keep hearing closure? And I’m hearing someone saying that they’re sorry. This could be you or someone else saying this. Pile two, you need to put the love you give to others into yourself as well. Learn to trust your inner guidance. I’m seeing here that maybe wounds from when you were younger, perhaps from a father/masculine figure has hindered your confidence and the way you see the world. Something recently may not have worked out the way you wanted it to and that might be what the closure is regarding. But trust in the process of what’s unfolding for you, trust your ideas and look at the bigger picture. There’s lots of Gemini energy as well which is related to the third house so there might also be some siblings wounds that need tending to. For some of you, someone close to you may have moved away and now that’s leaving you very lost. But trust me there are answers in what you don’t see right now. They’re coming and that give and take it about to become equal. You just need to try and see the bigger picture. Sometimes rejection is redirection.

Pile Three: Black Tourmaline

Pile your energy is infectious. I think you’re definitely shining brightly right now. You may have come out of a very mentally exhausting cycle and have finally learnt how to put yourself first, to nurture and take care of yourself and oof baby that confidence is growing. I think you’re also splurging on nice things perhaps a bit too much but honestly you deserve it. Your current energies are great and being carried over into future energies is what I’m seeing. You’re learning how to balance your home and work life and resting when you need to (if this is something you’re still learning I see you nailing it in the near future). You’re learning how to believe in yourself and the universe and embracing all that comes with it. This is a very abundant time for yourself. If any of you are trying to get pregnant, I see that this might be happening soon as well (only take it if it resonates please!) continue on this trajectory because you’re unlocking such wonderful parts of yourself that you can share with your family/within your home. I also heard someone say that they’re really proud of you.

Your career (Pile one: Selenite, Pile two: Agate, Pile three: Celestite)

Pile one: Selenite

I’m hearing that you do not need to do everything on your own lol. I also see some massive burnout right now. You might have lost your spark or inspiration to what you’re doing but I hear that it’s not exactly feeding your soul. Perhaps the work itself or people feel like this. But you’re definitely working on it or will be in the near future. I think you’re trying to find your purpose here and it’s related to something you already know you love. It might not be conventional or it might feel out of reach but the first step is accepting or seeking help from others. Everything you’ve worked for will pay off. You are more than good enough to reach your goals; you just have to try to stop micromanaging. There’s strong Capricorn energy in this pile.

Time frame: five months/28 weeks stick out to me

Pile Two: Agate

You might currently be trying to make something work that doesn’t. I’m hearing that it might be because it’s financially secure and has good pay. But deep down you’re stressed tf out lol. You’re worried about the future and I’m hearing for some of you your family legacy? I feel like you tell yourself it’s just your bad luck and talk yourself down. This might be from habits in your past when you were younger but it’s time to let go of things that aren’t serving you. You seem like creative souls and your soul yearns to do something more. I hear more than just a soul sucking 9-5. It might be too risky but I think you’re going to realise that it might be worth the risk and once you do, a brand new start/beginning is coming for you. The wheel will turn in your favour. Nothing in your life is set in stone. You have the power to change it if you’re brave enough. This creative endeavour may be something to do with your voice/music or fashion for some of you. Please remember you’re more powerful than you think. Once you grasp that, you can change your entire world.

Time frame: 10 months and for some I hear six/nine months/ weeks.

Pile Three: Celestite

Lovely energies right off the bat. You know what you want pile three and you’re determined to get it. Some of you may be trying to move to another city/country for a job or have already done so. The only thing I see here is that you’re questioning yourself and your abilities? You might be listening to a lot of other people’s opinions but honestly, spirit is saying that as long as you’re happy, they don’t need to matter, to get out of your head. For some of you I see that you might be coming out of a cycle and are trying to get onto a path that’s true to who you are. There might have been some questioning your self-identity and this might have been from other people but whatever it is that you see for yourself, you have the power to get it. You just have to get rid of those self-limiting beliefs that are keeping you up at knight. Spirit is also saying that your journey is important so be patient and gentle with yourself. A lot of you might be empaths, so be careful you don’t absorb everyone else’s energy. Also that if things don’t work out exactly how it’s planned, you’re fine to try a different route, it doesn’t have to be only one way.

Time frame: Gemini season might be significant but otherwise this one isn’t giving me a specific time frame.

Your love life (Pile One: rose quartz, Pile Two: Spirit Quartz, Pile Three: Pyrite)

Pile one: Rose quartz

You might be heavy into manifesting a specific person or have an idea of a person that you’re set on manifesting. Spirit is saying that you’re very sure of yourself and your abilities at the moment but you may need to take a step back to evaluate what it is you really want. Not everything might be realistic/practical right now. You may have a group of people that might put you through the wringer before meeting the one you spend your life with. I see you might have to release some toxic exes/cycles as well but the wheel will turn in your favour. When you meet this person, they may be shy so you may have to end up making the first move. I also see that you may be coming out of a really bad relationship when you meet this person.

Significant times/signs: Pisces is heavy, then Virgo and Gemini and Capricorn

Pile two: Spirit quartz

Pile two your energy!! I think you may have already met someone you will spend the rest of your life with or are already in a deep commitment with. If you haven’t, I see this coming in hot before you know it. You’re connected deeply with spirit/God/the universe and I think you’re already in a great place of appreciation. Because of your faith, the love you’re manifesting will come in and it’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. This person is someone you can be weird around, is what I’m hearing. It might feel like you or them are under a spell whenever you’re with them lol. Deep love and possible soulmate connection.

Significant time/seasons: heavy Libra, Virgo, Gemini

Pile Three: Pyrite

Pile three you are more powerful than you know and your voice deserves to be heard. I think you might be going through some tough times at the moment. Perhaps something major in your life has ended and you’re not sure what to do or for some, you’re stuck in an unhealthy relationship and don’t know how to get out. The message is to let God/the Universe/Spirit in. You are being led in the right direction. Find it within yourself to do what your heart is telling to you do in tandem with your mind. Let go because you need to. Once you do, and you finally move forward, you’ll find your divine counter part. But this is only when you take control and let go of what you need to, even if this is past beliefs. This will be a very stable and healthy relationship and it might actually be in a whole different country or city. Maybe on a cruise for some. Or you bond over something regarding the ocean. Please stay strong though, pile three. You are worthy of real love.

Significant times/seasons: strangely enough I don’t see any period sticking out. But strong earth energy in general so that may be significant

[mercurio-shadowz]

Hi Hi!! I love the sonadow fankid, I came to ask what their relationship and dynamics are like with Sonic vs Shadow, or potentially others too?

(also you're THE Aneh??!? thats wild you're like everywhere anyway yes I love your art thankyou)

HI I'M ONLY IN TWO PLACES HHEHDHF 😭😭 (ily too :33333)

His relationship with Sonic is basically your run of the mill cool dad - son dynamic, he sometimes takes him on late night adventures where they eat frozen treats and sneak into rock concerts without paying.

Spinner wants to be just like him when he grows up.

Now you'd expect Shadow to train the everliving shit out of him so he can control his powers and stuff but... it truly isn't like that at all. Shadow hides a lot of things from Spinner and even lies to him when the kid asks him... complicated questions about himself.

I'd like to say more but truly, Spinner's relationship with Shadow and how Shadow inadvertently turned into his own version of Gerald fucking Robotnik is one of the things I'm most excited to share about them in comic form and nsbfnxksncn

But just so you know, Spinner doesn't hate him, and Shadow considers him to be one of the best things that have happened to him.

He holds his hand to take him places way past the point when he's "too old" for that kind of stuff. (this is not symbolism. nope. not at all)

[cbeargyu]

WISHES COME TRUE

SUMMARY: you’ve always been the quiet, bookish type — hidden behind oversized sweaters and your secret smut blog. yeonjun, the golden boy of the dance department, was supposed to be just a harmless crush... until a steamy story accidentally lands in his hands. now, your fantasies are no longer just fiction.

PAIRING: soft dom!yeonjun x fem!reader

GENRE: slow burn, smutty tension, university!au, angst, fluff, eventual nsfw (suggestive)

WARNINGS: suggestive themes, language, emotional tension, power dynamics, accidental exposure of private writing, crying, emotional vulnerability, soft dominance, yeonjun being too hot to handle, loss of virginity, unprotected sex.

WC: 4,8k

NOTES: i wish yeonjun would make my fantasies come true too...😞

you were a literature major at university—one of those girls who always seemed quiet, thoughtful, always with a book tucked under her arm or a notebook filled with scribbled ideas. you had chosen literature because, for as long as you could remember, stories had been your whole world. fairy tales, classic novels, poetry, fanfiction—especially fanfiction.

it had started innocently enough in your early teens: writing about your favorite movie characters falling in love. but as you got older, so did your stories. they evolved—bolder, darker, more explicit. the kind of scenes that made your cheeks flush even though you were the one writing them. you never said it out loud, of course. no one would ever imagine it of you.

you were the quiet girl in class, after all. the one with oversized sweaters, round glasses slipping down your nose, a soft voice, and a shy smile that made people underestimate you. but at night, in the glow of your laptop screen, you were someone else. your blog had grown into something much bigger than you'd anticipated. a loyal following of readers eagerly awaited your weekly updates, devouring every steamy, forbidden chapter you posted—always right on schedule, even with your hectic academic life.

and then there was choi yeonjun.

he was in the contemporary dance program—effortlessly popular, magnetic in every sense. tall, with dark hair that curled slightly when he sweat after practice, his ears lined with silver piercings, his eyes sharp but kind. he had a way of walking into a room and drawing attention without even trying.

you’d met him in a way that was both perfectly ordinary and somehow surreal. he’d started showing up at your department’s literature fairs. it surprised you the first time—someone like him, flipping through romance novels with genuine interest, not just killing time. but there he was, every time, stopping by the table you were in charge of, smiling that easy, sunlit smile that made your stomach twist in quiet panic.

“any recommendations today?” he’d ask casually, leaning over the table just close enough to make you forget how to breathe.

you tried to keep your voice steady. “uh—if you like slow burn… this one’s pretty good.”

he grinned. “you always know the good ones. you read a lot, huh?”

you’d just nod, cheeks warm, heart sprinting. he didn’t know. god, he couldn’t know.

your conversations never lasted long, but they left you dizzy every time. he’d wave at you in the halls with that same bright energy, calling your name like you were already friends. you weren’t, not really. but you liked pretending.

and when you were alone, writing late into the night, your mind would wander. you’d think about him—his hands, his voice, that little smirk when he caught you staring too long.

you knew exactly what kind of character he’d be in one of your stories. and you had plenty of ideas.

it all started when yeonjun announced that he was planning a showcase for the contemporary dance department—an open performance where students could display their personal choreographies. he needed help designing the pamphlets that would be handed out to the audience, and for some reason, you were the first person he thought of.

“you made those posters for the lit fair, right?” he asked one afternoon, catching you off guard in the hallway. his voice was casual, but his smile was bright, genuine. “i really liked the way you put them together. they had this… soft, poetic vibe. it matched the theme perfectly.”

you blinked up at him, heart stuttering. he remembered that? “i– yeah! i did,” you mumbled, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. “i’d love to help.”

he grinned, like it was no big deal. “awesome. can i get your number? i’ll text you the details.”

you handed him your phone before you could overthink it. and when he tapped in his contact info, you felt a strange flutter in your chest. he told you he’d need it by next wednesday. today was friday—plenty of time.

saturday came, and as usual, it was supposed to be your sacred writing day. the day you sat down with your laptop and your coffee and let your imagination spill into a new chapter for your loyal readers. but today... you couldn’t focus. yeonjun’s face kept flashing behind your eyes. his voice, the way he smiled, the soft dip of his collarbone when he leaned in closer than he needed to.

so, instead of working on your usual story, you opened a new document. just a little spin-off, you told yourself. a character named yejun, inspired by him, paired with your unnamed female lead. it didn’t mean anything. it was just for fun.

your fingers moved quickly over the keys, each word making your face burn a little hotter. you described him in detail—his body, his voice, the way he would whisper dirty things between soft kisses. it escalated fast. soon, the bed sheets were tangled, the clothes gone, and “yejun” was doing things to the protagonist that made your thighs clench under the desk.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress the heat pooling low in your stomach. your skin was flushed, breath a little too fast. god, it was just a story. just fiction.

but every line felt real.

too real.

when you finally finished, you closed the file with shaky fingers and stared at the screen, guilt washing over you like cold water. you’d just written a full-blown smut piece about your classmate. someone you knew. someone who’d smiled at you in the hallway just days ago.

he’s never going to know, you told yourself, shutting the thought down. your blog was anonymous. your secret was safe.

you shifted gears, finally starting your actual chapter for the week. when it was done and posted, the familiar flood of comments poured in. the joy from your readers was like a warm blanket, grounding you again. they loved it, as always. you loved them. they were the reason you kept writing.

by the time sunday night rolled around, the guilt had faded into the background, replaced by the sudden panic of realization—you still hadn’t started yeonjun’s pamphlet. you checked your phone. a new story on his profile. something about drinks with friends. he was still out, probably.

you rushed to open your design program, pulling up the notes you’d made. soft color palettes, modern typography, minimalistic but expressive—something that reflected the rhythm and movement of contemporary dance. you made one version. then another. kept tweaking the alignment, changing fonts, shifting images.

finally, at 2:34 a.m., you saved both files. sleepy, but satisfied. you dragged the two pdfs into your chat with him, barely thinking. you typed out the message:

“hi yeonjun! i made two versions, choose whichever you like best :)”

and hit send.

except… you hadn’t just selected the two designs.

your stomach dropped as you saw the third file still hanging in the message bubble. the one labeled: “yejun_x_fmc_draft01.docx”

it sent.

you stared at the message for a second, read it over just to make sure it sounded polite enough, and then closed the chat. satisfied, you shut your laptop, stretched your sore arms above your head, and let out a sleepy sigh. it was late. too late. your body ached from sitting in one spot too long, your eyes heavy. slipping under your blanket, you let your head hit the pillow, completely unaware of the very wrong file you’d just sent to yeonjun.

you fell asleep thinking about fonts and color palettes—clueless to the chaos waiting in your inbox.

yeonjun had been scrolling through his phone lazily that night, the apartment quiet except for the occasional hum of cars outside. it was past two in the morning, and most of his friends were either out partying or already passed out drunk. he, on the other hand, was comfortably sprawled out on his bed, hoodie thrown somewhere on the floor, phone in hand and thumbs working through unread messages. when your name popped up with a new chat, he blinked sleepily, expecting a simple "here are the flyers" type of thing.

maybe a couple of PDFs, a casual "let me know which one you like better." he smiled a little to himself. you were cute, in that quiet, bookish way. sweet. unassuming. kind of awkward, but endearing.

he tapped on the files without thinking.

the first opened fine—bright colors, clean design, silhouettes of dancers mid-pose, your signature soft aesthetic all over it. he liked it. clean, expressive. you were talented.

he clicked the second, expecting more of the same.

but then he saw… text. not a flyer. a story. his brow furrowed as he scrolled further. the format was familiar. narrative, dialogue. descriptive paragraphs. curiosity sparked, and his eyes began to scan the words.

“yejun’s fingers traced slow, burning lines down the curve of her waist, his voice low and thick in her ear. ‘you’re so quiet during the day,’ he murmured. ‘but in my bed? you’re a fucking mess.’”

his heart stopped.

his mouth went dry.

at first, he thought it was just a coincidence. a character named "yejun"—close, but not quite. but as he kept reading, the illusion crumbled. the description was too specific. too detailed. tall, black hair, piercings decorating both ears, cocky smile, flirty attitude, reads romance novels like a secret guilty pleasure—fuck, it was him. it was him on those pages. and you? the girl in the story? that was clearly you. no question.

his stomach twisted into knots.

his brain screamed that this was wrong, that he should stop reading, that this was invasive and inappropriate and god, disgusting. this was a violation of boundaries, wasn’t it? some kind of parasocial delusion—was this how you saw him?

but his eyes wouldn’t stop.

line after line, paragraph after paragraph, you painted a vivid, searing image of the two of you tangled in sheets, dripping with heat and tension. “yejun” had you beneath him, fingers curled into your thighs, lips murmuring filth against your throat while you begged for more. he could hear your voice in the words—he could see the way you might look, squirming beneath him, wide eyes glassy and pleading.

his hand gripped the phone tighter. he didn’t notice how his breath had gotten shallow. he didn’t notice how hard he’d gotten, straining against the loose fabric of his pants.

“she moaned when he spread her open, kissed the inside of her thighs like she was something sacred. ‘i wanna ruin you,’ he growled. ‘wanna fuck you so deep you forget your own damn name.’”

he hissed through his teeth, biting down on the inside of his cheek. fuck. fuck. fuck.

he shouldn’t be aroused by this. this was someone else’s fantasy. someone he barely knew. someone who wore glasses too big for her face and oversized cardigans and always tucked her hair behind her ears when she got nervous. someone shy and innocent and sweet.

except—no. apparently not. not so innocent.

his cock throbbed against the inside of his waistband. his face was flushed deep red, part shock, part guilt, part something far more primal. and still, he couldn’t look away.

you thought about him like that.

you imagined him taking you apart, fucking you senseless, making you cry with pleasure.

and now… he couldn’t stop picturing it either.

you didn’t realize a thing.

monday came and went, and you went about your routine like always—classes, notes, reading during lunch, replying to your blog comments in quiet corners of the library. the only thing different was that yeonjun hadn’t replied to your message. not even a “thanks.” he’d left you on read. that was unusual for him.

you saw him in the cafeteria once—just once. he was walking with some friends, laughing at something, tray in hand. you smiled instinctively, raising your hand in a little wave like you always did.

but he didn’t wave back.

he didn’t even look at you.

he walked right past, as if you weren’t even there.

you froze, hand mid-air, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. something was wrong. you could feel it in your gut.

and yet… you said nothing. you told yourself maybe he was just busy. maybe you were reading too much into it. but your heart ached anyway.

by wednesday, you couldn’t take it anymore.

you saw him sitting alone inside the dance studio, stretching, sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead. the doors were unlocked. you hesitated only a moment before stepping inside, chest tight, hands balled into anxious fists.

"yeonjun," you called softly, walking toward him.

he looked up, his face unreadable.

your heart dropped.

no warmth. no smile. no teasing glint in his eyes.

"why have you been ignoring me?" your voice cracked, but you kept going. "if you only needed the pamphlet, you could’ve just said so. you didn’t have to pretend like you liked talking to me."

he didn’t answer at first.

he stood up slowly, towering over you, and for the first time you felt… small.

not just in height. in everything.

he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"what's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice low. "shouldn’t i be asking you that?"

you blinked in confusion, taking a step back. “w-what are you talking about?”

he held the phone up to you.

and there it was.

your story.

the wrong file.

your face went completely cold.

your mouth opened, but no words came out. panic flooded you, head spinning, knees weak.

"this character,” he said calmly, almost cruelly. “it's me, isn’t it? same build. same personality. even the name.”

his voice wasn't angry—no, it was too calm. too quiet. too dangerous. your eyes flicked to the screen he held in his hand, your own words staring back at you with damning clarity. you couldn’t lie, couldn’t explain this away as coincidence. it was him. everything from the raven hair to the pierced ears, to the soft but commanding energy—the character had always been him.

"i... i can explain," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper, raw from emotion. "i didn’t mean for you to read it. it was a mistake, i—"

"it was meant to be private?" he cut in, taking another step toward you. "so private that you decided to send it directly to me?"

you flinched, your body screaming for you to run but your legs rooted to the floor. tears prickled your eyes, shame wrapping around your throat like a chokehold. your fingers curled into fists at your sides, not in anger, but in a desperate attempt to hold yourself together.

"i didn’t know i sent it. please, yeonjun, i didn’t want you to see that. i never would've wanted you to think—"

he stared down at you, his gaze dark. dangerous.

“you pretend to be so sweet. so quiet. like some shy little bookworm,” he murmured. “but you write about me like i’m your personal sex toy. like you wanna use me. ride me. make me beg.”

you whimpered, barely able to breathe, your eyes wide with horror.

you wanted to die.

you wanted to disappear.

his fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. his thumb grazed your bottom lip.

but then his eyes darkened, jaw tightening, and he leaned in slightly. "the problem is," he said, voice low, "i can’t stop thinking about what you wrote. how detailed it was. how vividly you described it—me."

your breath caught. "yeonjun..."

"you wrote that you wanted me to hold you down," he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips. "that you wanted to ride me until you couldn’t walk straight. that you dreamed of me moaning your name while you begged for more. and all that... from the quiet girl who blushes when someone says 'kiss' in class?"

your knees nearly gave out. your skin burned with humiliation and something else—something terrifyingly warm spreading low in your belly. you shook your head again, but there were no words left to give him. no excuses. you were caught. exposed. and he was standing there, looking at you like he was reading every single fantasy straight from your soul.

“you’re disgusting,” he said, voice low and rough.

your eyes welled with tears.

but then he leaned closer, and his breath ghosted over your cheek. his voice dropped even lower, thick with something dangerous.

“but the worst part?” he smirked. “the more i think about it, the more i want to make it real." he murmured. 

you gasped, a whimper escaping your lips before you could stop it. it was wrong. it was insane. and yet... the tension between you crackled like a live wire.

"yeonjun, i..." your voice trembled.

"you don’t have to say anything," he said quietly, his thumb brushing away a tear on your cheek. "but if you really meant what you wrote... i will make your first time unforgettable, better than your story, better than many stories, i will fuck you as hard as you ask."

your heartbeat stuttered. your mind screamed for you to step away—but your body leaned into him, trembling from something far deeper than fear.

“so this is what you think about when you see me?” his voice is low, controlled, almost amused. but there’s something dark swimming beneath it. something hungry.

you’re frozen in front of him, face hot and eyes watery with humiliation. your vision blurs as the tears start spilling over your cheeks.

“fuck,” he mutters, stepping closer, eyes flicking over your trembling frame. “you’re crying.”

you nod, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“you’re embarrassed?”

another nod.

and then he laughs. it’s not cruel—no, it’s worse. it’s knowing. it's the sound of someone who's seen through every layer you tried to hide.

you whimper, thighs squeezing together at his words. that ache between your legs intensifies, shame curling up with desire in your belly like a knot pulling tighter and tighter.

he’s in front of you now, towering over you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek—thumb brushing away a tear, so gently it makes your breath catch.

“and this part—” he whispers, pulling his phone from his pocket. “this part right here... where you wrote that he ‘pinned her against the mirror and kissed her until she forgot her own name, one hand gripping her thigh, the other buried in her hair, making her moan before he even touched her pussy.’”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

“open your eyes.”

you do.

he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear.

“do you want me to do that to you?”

you pause. swallow hard. your silence is answer enough.

he chuckles again. “fuck, you’re cute when you pretend to be innocent. but now i know what’s under that little act. now i know what kind of slut you really are.”

your knees weaken. your panties are soaked.

“take it off,” he murmured.

your throat went dry. “w-what?”

he stepped closer, towering over you. the scent of his cologne and sweat from practice clung to him, heavy and dizzying.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” his voice dropped, gravelly. “hoodie. now.”

you hesitated, fingers curling at the hem.

your body moved before your brain could catch up. trembling fingers pulled your hoodie over your head, revealing your bare chest underneath—no bra, just skin, soft and warm and exposed to him.

“fuck, no bra? you were walking around like this, waiting for me to notice?”

he growled. actually growled.

“you walked in here looking like this…” his eyes roamed again, hungry. “thinking i wouldn’t notice the way your nipples get hard through your hoodie?

your stomach twisted, heat rushing between your legs.

“you act so innocent, baby, but that little mind of yours?” he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “filthy.”

your cheeks burned. your thighs squeezed together.

“take off the pants too, those fucking pants hiding the slut you really are” he added, voice darker now.

you obeyed slowly, pushing down the waistband of your sweatpants, revealing your thin white panties already soaked through. the air hit your thighs and you shivered—whether from the cold or the anticipation, you weren’t sure.

yeonjun sat down on the bench behind him, legs spread wide, cock hard and pressing visibly against his sweats.

“come here.”

you stepped between his legs, every nerve in your body lit on fire.

his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer until your soaked panties brushed against the bulge in his pants. he hissed at the contact.

“you’re wet already?” he whispered, almost mocking. “just from me talking to you like this?”

you nodded, lips parted in a silent gasp as he rubbed his nose along the curve of your breast, not kissing—just inhaling you. savoring.

“you know what’s crazy?” he murmured. “i remember every single thing you wrote. every moan, every word you gave that version of me… and now i wanna hear them come out of your mouth.”

his hand slid under the band of your panties, fingers slipping between your folds.

“fuck—so wet for me. untouched, huh? this little cunt’s never been filled?”

you whimpered, nodding, nails digging into his shoulders.

“good,” he groaned, pulling your panties down your legs. “i wanna be the only one who gets to ruin this pussy.”

he hooked your thighs over his, adjusting your body until you were hovering over his clothed cock, dripping against the fabric.

“say it,” he ordered.

“say what?”

his eyes locked with yours, deadly calm.

“tell me you want to sit on it.”

your chest rose and fell fast, lips trembling. “i… i want to ride you.”

“that’s not what i said, baby.”

you swallowed. heat flooded your cheeks, but your hips instinctively rolled against him.

“i want to sit on your cock,” you breathed, voice shaky. “please, let me ride you”

his head tilted slightly, lips curling into a smirk as he pulled his sweats down, cock springing free. thick. veined. already leaking.

“then prove it,” he rasped.

you didn’t even hesitate. you gripped his shoulders and lined yourself up, your slick dripping down the tip. his hands gripped your hips, steadying you.

“this might hurt, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, “but i’ll be gentle. i’ll make it feel so fucking good you’ll beg me never to stop.”

he pushes in slowly, his cock splitting you open inch by inch. you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. he’s big—so much bigger than you imagined—and your body clenches tight around him.

“that’s it, princess. take it. let me feel that pretty little virgin pussy.”

you whimper, burying your face in his neck as he bottoms out, letting you adjust. he doesn’t move right away—just holds you, one hand cradling your back, the other gripping your thigh.

“you’re doing so good for me. so fucking tight.”

he let you sink down inch by inch, until you were fully seated on him, legs shaking. your head fell onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

he starts to move, slow at first, dragging you up and down on his cock with gentle rolls of his hips. you gasp again, tears springing to your eyes from the overwhelming stretch and pleasure.

“slow, baby,” he murmured, voice suddenly softer—but his eyes still burned with control. “i’ll go slow. i’ll stretch you out nice and easy, okay?”

you nodded, barely breathing.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. “so fucking perfect. this little pussy was made for me.”

you moaned totally lost in desire, little by little the pain disappeared and turned into pleasure.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he whispered against your neck, kissing you there. “being such a good girl while i ruin your first time.”

you whimpered, rocking your hips slowly, gasping at the overwhelming fullness. he filled every part of you—stretching, claiming, owning.

“don’t stop,” you breathed. “please, don’t stop.”

“fuck, you’re even better than i imagined. so warm. so wet. so fucking mine.”

his hands slid up your back, gripping your hair, pulling your head back just enough for your eyes to meet.

“then ride me, baby. ride me like you fucking mean it.”

his grip on your hips tightens as you start to move—slow, uncertain rolls of your body at first, each one drawing a sharp inhale from you and a low, rumbling groan from him.

his cock feels impossibly thick inside you, the stretch dragging along every nerve ending. your thighs shake from the pressure, the burn, the pleasure that's building fast and overwhelming.

“that’s it, baby,” he breathes, eyes locked on your face as you try to ride him, “you’re doing so fucking good. taking me so well… fuck, this tight little pussy was starving for cock, huh?”

you cry out when he shifts his hips up, thrusting deeper. your walls clench around him, and the reaction makes his head fall back against the mirror, a hiss leaving his lips.

“fuck—don’t do that unless you wanna make me cum already.”

his hands slide from your waist to your ass, grabbing handfuls of soft skin as he starts to guide you himself—lifting you, lowering you, bouncing you gently on his cock. your hands fly to his shoulders for balance, mouth open in a silent moan as he hits a new spot inside you.

“right there, huh?” he growls, pulling your hips down harder. “you like that, baby? you like being stuffed full of your senior’s cock in the fucking practice room?”

you nod frantically, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, not from pain anymore—but from the pressure building deep in your core, the knot tightening fast.

“say it.”

“i love it,” you gasp, rolling your hips now with purpose. “i love your cock—fuck—it’s so deep, i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he grunts, meeting your movements with rougher thrusts now, fucking up into you while holding you down. “you will. be a good girl and take it.”

you sob, pleasure tearing through you, sharp and desperate. your nipples brush his chest, slick skin against skin, sweat dripping down your spine.

“you’re such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he pants, dragging his tongue along your collarbone, biting down just enough to leave a mark. “acting shy in front of the others, but here you are—riding me like a fucking whore.”

you moan loudly, the sound echoing in the studio, your voice bouncing off the mirrors, filling the space. his hand slips between your bodies, thumb pressing hard against your clit.

“don’t hold back, baby. cum on my cock. i wanna feel this pussy squeeze me while you fall apart.”

your eyes flutter shut, and your whole body tenses as his thumb moves in tight circles, the thick drag of his cock hitting all the right places.

then everything snaps.

your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. your moan breaks into a cry as your walls pulse around him, milking his cock, your thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“that’s it, baby—fuck, that’s it, just like that,” he growls, holding you tight as your cunt grips him, hot and wet and spasming. “so fucking good for me.”

his rhythm falters, his breaths sharp.

“you’re gonna make me cum—fuck—where do you want it?”

you barely manage to speak, drunk on the high.

“inside,” you whisper. “please, fill me up.”

his hips snap up one last time, deep and hard. he buries himself to the hilt, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless.

you both go still—bodies pressed together, hearts racing. his arms wrap around your waist, holding you to him like he never wants to let go. your walls flutter around his softening cock, the mix of your release leaking down your thighs.

he kisses your shoulder, slow and soft now, grounding you.

“you okay, baby?” he murmurs against your skin.

you nod, voice weak. “yeah… i’ve never felt anything like that.”

he chuckles gently, kissing your jaw.

“can i—can i ride you at your place next time?” you pant, nails raking down his arms.

he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“you wanna sit on daddy’s cock at home, baby? ride me like a good little slut while i fuck your brains out?”

you nod frantically, eyes hazy with lust.

“please… dominate me. make me yours.”

his grin is wicked. his thrusts grow rougher. deeper. the sound of skin slapping fills the mirrored room.

“you are mine, baby. every fucking inch of you.”

you sat there, still straddling him, your thighs shaking against his hips, skin flushed and slick with sweat. your fingers dug into his chest, trying to steady your breath, but the heat between your legs pulsed with every heartbeat — a reminder of what had just happened. he looked up at you with that same wicked smile, the one you once only imagined while typing your dirtiest fantasies late at night. except now, it wasn’t fiction. it was real. your filthy little story had come to life, every word, every whimper, every shameless desire — all of it played out on the floor of the dance studio, with yeonjun underneath you, hard and breathless. he had read your mind… and fucked it into reality.

[xjulixred45x]

Imagine if Parent! Yuu's kids are all the Yuus (aka Yuuken, Yuuka, Yuuta, Yuuna, etc) from the TWST manga?

(LOL WHEN THE YUU RUNS IN THE FAMILY)

BUT IMAGINE—

Imagine that all the Yuus are siblings, that one by one they appear in Twisted Wonderland as time goes by and have their adventures (in their respective episodes, the other siblings stop appearing or don't appear as much because they're looking for a way to get back home).

Yuuken, being the ultimate Mommas Boy, gives me great feelings of an older brother who takes care of his younger siblings, even a little too much. He's very protective of his parent (especially if his other parent isn't in the picture) and wants to be the man of the house and help them as much as he can.

Yuuuka is the one who tries to protect her parent in the most direct way. If you talk shit about her siblings or, God forbid, her mother/father/parent, you'll face a world of pain followed by the biggest burn of your life. But she's ironically sweet to Yuu! Parent. It's probably because of their perseverance and optimism that Yuuka is the way they are; she admire them so much.

Yuuta, my sweet boy, another mama's boy who went to work in an attempt to help out around the house and ease Yuu! Parent's burden, whether it be with work or learning housework to make the house less of a mess. Yuu!Parent is not only a successful parent of four children, but they don't lose their composure even though, socially speaking, they probably receive a lot of scrutiny for being a "soft(bad)" parent in Japonese eyes(especially for how they raise their daughters or being too soft with their sons). But they never give up. Yuuta wishes he were that resilient and tough. He's probably the most vocal about missing home and their mother/father/parent.

Yuuna loves Yuu!Parent! They're always front and center when she auditions for singing roles. They help her rehearse, they make her tasty food when she spends too much time practicing without leaving her room, they make her favorite meals when she gets rejected from a group she wanted to join. Yuu!parent is basically her rock. When she arrived at Twisted Wonderland, she was probably so excited to tell Yuu!parent about a possible success for once...

I like to think about how this could expand the Yuu dynamic, how tensions would increase as more Yuu arrive, how in certain tense moments, they end up saying harsh things or things they didn't mean, precisely because they're children who were torn from their home and can't help but get upset.

Not just for them, but for Yuu!parent.

They don't know that they're okay, they don't know that they're all there together or what the hell is going on. They don't even know! All they know is that their father/mother/parent is left ALONE in their world, perhaps even thinking they've been abandoned by their own children, and that HAUNTS THEM.

So, they triple their efforts to get back home, pester Crowley even more, investigate on their own—anything! Anything to get back home! ANYTHING TO GET BACK TO THEM!

Until one day, something changes. again.

The Yuus don't even think much of it when Crowley calls them into his office again; they're so tired from another all-night investigation.

So imagine their collective surprise when they walk in and see a VERY familiar face sitting in Crowley's office. Yuu!Parent.

They probably thought it was a hallucination from lack of sleep at first, until Yuu!Parent went straight to check on them, telling them how something super weird had happened with a carriage and the strange birdman who was giving them the creeps, how awful they look, etc. And they know it, this is real.

And the biggest, most necessary hug they could have happens, even if it's not how they wanted it. Finally, the months of anguish are over, they're finally together, finally everything is okay.

(Crowley repeatedly ruins the moment by saying how "kind he is." Don't worry, as soon as the Yuus tell YuuParent everything, they'll make Roast Chicken.)

Should I talk more about this concept?

________

(ESPAÑOL)

(LOL CUANDO EL YUU CORRE EN LA FAMILIA)

PERO IMAGINA—

Imagínate que todos los Yuus son hermanos, que uno a uno van apareciendo en Twisted Wonderland mientras va pasando el tiempo y tienen sus aventuras (de sus respectivos episodios, los otros hermanos dejan de aparecer o no aparecen tanto porque buscan la forma de volver a casa).

Yuuken siendo el Mommas Boy definitivio, me da unas grandes ibras de hermano mayor que cuida de sus hermanos menores, incluso un poco demasiado. Es muy protector de su madre (especialmente si su padre no esta en la foto) quiere ser el hombre de la casa y ayudarla lo mas que puede.

Yuuka es quien trata de proteger a su madre de la forma mas directa, si hablas mierda de sus hermanos o, dios lo prohíba, de su madre/padre, te enfrentaras a un mundo de dolor seguido de la quemada mas grande de tu vida. Pero es irónicamente dulce con Yuu! Parent. Probablemente sea por su actitud perseverante y optimismo que Yuuka es como es, los admira muchísimo.

Yuuta, mi dulce niño, otro niño de mama que se puso a trabajar en un intento de ayudar a la casa y aliviar la carga de Yuu! Parent, ya sea con el trabajo o aprender tareas domésticas para hacer la casa menos un desastre. Yuu!Parent no solo es un padre de 4 hijos exitosos, sino que no pierden la compostura pese a que, socialmente hablando, probablemente reciben mucho escrutinio por ser un padre muy “suave” (especialmente por como educa a sus hijas o es muy blando con sus hijos), pero nunca se rinde, Yuuta quisiera ser asi de resiliente y rudo. Probablemente es el más vocal con respecto a cómo extrañan casa y su madre/padre.

¡Yuuna ama a Yuu!Parent! ellos siempre están en primera fila cuando ella hace sus audiciones de cantante, le ayudan a ensayar, le hace comida sabrosa cuando pasa demasiado tiempo practicando y sin salir de su cuarto, le hace sus comidas favoritas cuando la rechazan de algún grupo que ella quería unirse, Yuu!parent es básicamente su roca, cuando llego a Twisted Wonderland probablemente estaba tan emocionada por decirle de un posible éxito a Yuu!Parent por una vez…

Me gusta pensar en cómo esto podría ampliar la dinámica de los Yuus, como las tenciones irían aumentando mientras mas Yuus van llegando, como en ciertos momentos de tensión se terminan diciendo cosas duras o que no querían decir, pero justamente porque son niños que fueron arrancados de su hogar y no pueden evitar angustiarse.

No solo por ellos, sino por Yuu!parent.

Ellos no saben que están bien, ellos no saben que están ahí todos juntos o que diablos están pasando ¡ni siquiera ellos saben! Lo único que saben es que su padre/madre quedo SOLO en su mundo, talvez incluso pensando que los abandonaron, y eso LES ATORMENTA.

Por lo mismo, triplican los esfuerzos para volver a casa, atosigan mas a Crowley, investigan por su cuenta ¡algo! ¡cualquier cosa para volver a casa! ¡CUALQUIER COSA PARA VOLVER CON ELLOS!

Hasta que un dia, algo cambia. Algo vuelve a cambiar.

Los Yuus ni siquiera piensan mucho cuando Crowley los llama a su oficina otra vez, están tan cansados por trasnocharse otra vez.

Por lo que imagina la sorpresa colectiva cuando entran y ven una cara MUY familiar sentándose en la oficina de Crowley. Yuu!Parent.

Probablemente al principio pensaron que era una alucinación por la falta de sueño, hasta que Yuu!Parent fue directamente a checarlos para ver si estaban bien, diciendo como había pasado algo súper raro con un carruaje y el extraño hombre pájaro que les daba escalofríos. Y lo saben, esto es verdad.

Y ocurre el abrazo mas grande y necesario que podrían tener, aun si no es como querían, finalmente se acabaron los meses de angustia, finalmente están juntos, finalmente todo está bien.

(Crowley para varias arruina el momento diciendo lo “amable que es”. No te preocupes, en cuanto los Yuus le cuenten a YuuParent todo, van a hacer Pollo asado).

¿deberia hablar mas de este concepto?

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[betty-fran]

You believe me like a god, I'll destroy you like I am

Oh. This video, like some special kind of art, captures all this unspoken longing between the two of them. This is actually an interesting thing about TOS - this unconscious sense of doom that always lurks behind the absurdly strange plot, and doesn't really have any specific connection to it, but which becomes completely obvious when it comes to K/S interactions. It's something more personal, intimate, as both Kirk and Spock have such a similar inner tragedy, and while it's only shown to us in bits and pieces, moments from episode to episode, in the big picture, it leads us to understand that they are both much more alike than different. We talk about loneliness, and we talk about shame, and behind it lies a sense of one's own otherness, of the impossibility of being accepted for who you are.

I think the most important thing about the relationship between Kirk and Spock, regardless of how you perceive it, is its fatal absoluteness. There is no other person in the whole world but Spock for Kirk, and Kirk for Spock, who can fill this gaping inner emptiness inside, to fix this tragedy of otherness, rejection, wrongness, who truly sees him for who he is, who can understand, accept him completely without hesitations or doubts. This is why K/S, while not being canon, is so adamant, because if what happens between them is not love in its fullest form, then love doesn't exist at all.

But this unwavering closeness between them turns this story into a tragedy in the plane in which both TOS and AOS lie — there is no one else in each of their lives, no one more important, no one closer than K to S and S to K; only the last half steps remains between them, and if they cross these last half steps — everything in the world will finally fall into place, as it always was meant to be — but that never happens, those half-steps always remain unfilled between them, and even if someone third tries to take that place, it doesn't really work, because only the two of them can take it — there is no one else, never has been, and never will. This is also what Ursula K. Le Guin wrote about in Searoad: Chronicles of Klatsand 

I was thinking how Mr. Spock was never unbuttoned, never lolled, kept himself shadowy, unfulfilled, and so we loved him. And poor Captain Kirk, going from blonde to blonde, would never understand that he himself loved Mr. Spock truly, hopelessly, forever.

We're left with this sense of doom every time Spock looks at Kirk, and when Kirk looks at Spock, never and always touching and touched. This is the reality in which they exist, they can't be apart from each other, but they also can't get close enough to be truly happy, because they can't be with anyone else, no matter how hard they try, and that leaves them in a vicious circle, where their happiness is only half a step away, but they can't take it. This is their real no-win scenario. Not Kobayashi Maru. It's the two of them.

Reading the K/S conflict in TOS more broadly, it's not just about homophobia, it's about the rejection of any otherness, queerness, or neurodiversity that permeates their entire reality. This is what I read in TOS from my own experience as an autistic person. Both Kirk and Spock are too complex personalities to truly fit in and meet expectations, none of them ever really feel like they're part of the society they live in, and the only place in each of their lives where they truly feel like they belong is on the bridge of the Enterprise, next to each other, what really makes the dynamic of their relationship what we love so much, and what we never fully get, because the 23rd century is really no different from the 60s, just as it is no different from today. And that is why TOS is actually a unique phenomenon, because while being a product of the stereotypes and limitations of the 60s, it also poses a real challenge to them (perhaps not always consciously), forcing us to think about what we really want to see our future as.

p.s. @anghraine honestly, I started this blog just to write about how much I enjoyed reading your thoughts about TOS, and because it inspired me to get back to my own journaling

star trek is about. .,the sixties

[tddyhyck]

Tuesday [ l. dh ]

pairings ⇢ bf!hyuck x reader x mark x jeno x jaemin x jisung

warnings ⇢ 18+ free use, common hole, urinal, mind break, pet names: pup(py), papa, oppa, baby, mean names: too long to list, lowkey stockholm syndrome, shibari, all the bodily fluids, hairy bush, toys, body writing as humiliation, dumbifiction, odd relationship dynamics, nipple clamps, various sex toys, breeding, implied sterilization???, smell kink, bathroom sex, bukkake, watersports (piss drinking, golden showers, pissing inside), cum, spit, and piss as lube, edging, overstimulation, mentioned - object insertion, pussy inspection

word count ⇢ 13.7k

a/n ⇢ this is utterly filthy hehe i forgot to add the link to the pic that inspired this!! not sure the original source i reversed image searched and picked the oldest but alas ANYWAYS ,,

masterlist - ao3 - inspo image

the familiar sound of the alarm breaks the silence of the room and fills your tummy with excitement. you sit on stained sheets looking at hyuck still snuggled up in his covers. reaching over and petting his face softly, as his eyes flutter open. 

“what a good view,” he sighs, looking up at your waiting eyes. stretching from his nap, he reaches around for his phone, turning the alarm off. “are you excited?”

“unhuh, i love Tuesday,” you grin bouncing on your knees making the bed creak. he pulls you to him squeezing you to his chest ass in the air and you breath deeply his musk filling your nose. it felt like a lifetime between now and last Tuesday. 

“you’re so soft. how about we cancel and i just sleep some more and you get to be my pillow,” he holds you closer. 

“oppaaaa,” you whine, kicking your legs in defiance. “it’s Tuesday, we can’t skip Tuesday.”

“i guess you’re right. they wouldn’t be too happy huh?” he tips your chin reaching to kiss your cheek. he pulls you on top of him tugging at the shirt you wear. one of his, stained a strange yellow color. he drags a hand from your face down your chest pressing the fabric over you. tensing as his hand soothes over the bulge in your tummy. 

“such a good listener,” he comments, poking at the tight skin. you whimper leaning over grabbing his arms for support. “what’s wrong pup?”

“just,” you sigh, shaking your head, gathering yourself. “so full. been waiting all day.”

“yeah? drinking all your glasses?” he squints looking at the white board beside his computer. your name with tally marks beside it one for each of the glasses of water you’ve had. you nod bouncing on him, liking the way his soft cock mushes against your covered center.

“i even had one more,” grinning holding up a finger. he raises his eyebrows at you. 

“hmmm, you must have to go really bad huh?” he asks, both hands soothing your tummy now. soft pressure against your bursting bladder makes you tense again. 

“oppa, please, i want to hold it more, it feels so good,” you whimper, head hanging down as your hand rubs over your cunt trying to keep everything in. 

“you’re so gross,” his familiar comment makes your heart swell and face heat. “such a filthy little head for such a pretty girl.” he pokes at your forehead. 

“just so,” you can’t fully describe how it feels. the push against your bladder, the tickle it makes you feel between your legs. he watches you try to explain the feeling going on in your tummy and between your legs, but your head is mushy. 

“i know,” he knows all too well. you still have a hand rubbing over your panties soft circles you don’t realize you're making. he lifts your shirt to watch you, a large wet spot already making the fabric transparent. he rubs over your panties a bow at your waist curly hairs peeking out. 

“what have you been doing while i was sleeping?”

“just watching you,” you sigh. “played some, but i kept getting stuck in the water and it made it so hard so i had to turn it off. finished drinking all my water. made some snacks for you.”

“what else?”

“even rode my toy like you asked. but i didn’t cum i promise.” holding out a pinky he takes it with his own. leaning over him you grab your phone scrolling to the video you took just 15 minutes ago. he reaches for it, turning the volume up and watching. 

you sit shyly hearing yourself whine and your pussy squelch as he smiles at the screen. watching your toes curling around the base as you ride the cock made just like his a silicone copy for you to stuff yourself with.

you’d been so shaky trying to hold back your bladder and your orgasm as you leaned over your face pressed to the seat of hyuck’s sticky gaming chair. the smell of old release filling your nose making you drool into the fabric. 

“my girl,” he coos sliding his finger under your moving hand curling it to tickle your clit.

“didn’t even wake you up or anything,” you swell with pride. you wonder how long the video is, you don’t even remember. the push of the tip hitting your bladder made you sit fully on the toy grinding needy hips for more.

you could feel his soft cock growing against you not even realizing you relax into the touch but not before your eyes shoot open whining as you remember your full bladder.

“mmmm what is it?” you don’t respond, moving your hips and pushing your clit against his lazy finger. his chubby cock rubs against your thigh, you want to touch him, have him in your mouth while he tells you to let go all you’ve been holding but it’s Tuesday. 

“c'mon pretty, we've gotta get you all set up huh?” he pulls away tossing your phone to the side as the video still plays and you slide off of him not before he can lay a slap on your ass.

you follow him obediently and he walks down the hall and opens the bathroom, not the one in your shared room but the one beside the kitchen. the door creaks open, its only use happening on Tuesday. the floor is cold and the same tools are on the counter, shelves still full with things. 

“now or later?” he looks at you. you already know what he’s asking. 

“can i have it twice?” you pout up at him. eyes big and lips bigger reaching to tug at his shirt. he really can’t resist. 

“since you had extra water i guess you deserve a little reward.” you scramble to your knees the moment he agrees, excitement on your face. 

“such an eager puppy. been waiting for it?” you nod, opening your mouth greedily. “how do you want your treat?”

“can i hold you please,” you bounce on your knees, hand reaching for his shorts. he nods, hand cupping your cheek and you snuggle into his touch. you slither up the leg of his shorts, usually you’d pull them down but you want to be a little different. he cocks a brow at you watching you push the fabric up bunching around his soft cock. 

you can’t resist pushing your face to him breathing deeply to smell him. nosing at his balls you can’t help when your mouth drops open and your tongue slides over them. 

“hey hey, don’t get distracted.” he corrects you by slapping your cheek. you straighten your back pulling away. you think you could live in his crotch breathing his smell in all hours of the day. 

“sorry, oppa,” you apologize sweetly and his face softens. you tug at his soft cock pulling the foreskin back exposing the chubby head. you lean in licking your lips before kissing the tip. sticking your tongue out swirling under the foreskin greedily collecting the taste. he sighs when your lips wrap around the tip like a straw. he moans and you feel his hot piss start to dribble into your mouth. 

mouth vibrating around his tip when you whine at the taste. so bitter and familiar, filling your mouth quickly you swallow as more follows refilling your waiting hole. his hand rubs over your face pushing at your filling cheeks.

you pull away catching your breath letting the still flowing piss hit your chest in hot streams. more yellow stains start to form as he releases more and more and more. you lean back in, mouth open tongue flat accepting it all like a good little piss girl. 

“fuck,” he groans as the stream slows. still holding his chub in your hand letting the dribbles hit your tongue before swallowing. you pull him in your mouth again sucking and licking up the last of his liquid. you whine when it’s all gone missing the flavor already. he pulls your hair pulling you off of his soft cock tongue still trying to lap. 

“so greedy, still wanting more. don’t worry little pissy girl you’ll have some soon,” he leans over you pushing his own tongue into your mouth tasting the bitterness on your tongue. you moan at the thought soon you will have all the piss you can take. 

“let’s get you ready,” you let go of his cock and he holds your arms lifting you to your feet. he feels so safe. 

“let’s put your shirt here,” he lifts the wet shirt off of your skin. the fabric sticks, making your tits bounce as he pulls it over your head. he puts it on the floor in front of the toilet so it can collect all the things.

your toes wiggle in the now cooling piss that escaped your mouth. you want to be really gross and put your face to the floor and lick it all up. but hyuck said you don’t get to clean the floor until after Tuesday. 

“what’s got you so sticky?” he pulls the waistband of your panties away peeking at the slick sticking to your bush. 

“you know,” you don’t want to tell him everything you’ve been thinking about. he spits into your open panties before slapping them back on your skin, patting over his spit to mix with your slick. 

“do i?” he grins at you. 

“keep thinking about last Tuesday. so many of your friends came,” you whimper at the memory. 

“awww do you want more or less?” he tugs your panties down and you step out, feet pattering in the puddle. 

“mmmm,” you think as he shoves your panties into his pocket. 

“depends on who. i like-“ you pause, nervous to admit it. 

“no secrets tell me baby,” he holds your hips pulling you closer. 

“sometimes i like it more when it’s your friends. you know people i know. but sometimes i just like when they’re people i've never even met. it’s more i dunno.” you ramble and he nods at you. 

“what about this Tuesday? what mood are you in,” he tilts his head at you waiting for your answer. you lean into him sticky tits pressing to his shirt. 

“your friends,” you sigh into his neck. 

“you’re in for a treat then.” he pulls you away kissing your nose making your scrunch your face. “you even did your hair, didn't you?”

you nod shyly, turning away as your face warms. he twirls a pigtail around his finger. 

“gonna try something different tonight okay?” you nod. “need a yes or no okay.”

“yes please,” you grin at him. he pats your head before sitting you onto the cold toilet seat, the temperature sends a little shiver over the backs of your thighs. 

“let me see you,” he bends down and you spread your legs wide you hold your thighs as he peaks at your cunt.

“so wet.” he hisses, sliding a finger between your folds. you wiggle your butt trying to get closer to his touch. “such a pretty cunt.” his fingers continue spreading your lips to look at your waiting hole. he could just shove his fingers in you right now, you’re already open for him. 

“oppa,” he looks up at you. “you’re getting distracted.” repeating his words from earlier makes him smile. 

“sorry,” he pulls away, licking his fingers before standing back up. he grabs the stained rope from the counter.

“hold your arms up, baby. “you do as he says, dropping your thighs so you straddle the seat. the position makes you too comfortable, the muscle memory hitting you and you squeeze your legs together. he giggles at you and it makes your tummy flip. grabbing your hands gently as he wraps the rope around your wrists. 

“i think you’re going to like this position,” he says absentmindedly, focusing all his attention on the way the rope binds your wrists together. “so pretty and exposed.” your legs squeeze together tighter the push on your bladder not going away. 

“don’t leak baby,” he can already read your mind, see the way you tense and squirm. the rope is rough but soft from overuse. usually he keeps your arms pressed against your thighs and your knees bent. but the arms over your head make you wonder. 

“legs up baby,” you try to open your legs and lift them but the position presses against your bladder. tightening your muscles as your piss pushes and pushes and pushes. he holds your legs open shifting your ass nearer to the edge of the toilet seat.

settling his knees on your dirty shirt, face to your sticky cunt he begins wrapping your legs. thighs tightening as the rope binds around them, squeezing your skin. you get a little giddy thinking of the burns on your skin after it’s all over. your heart swells more watching all the work he is putting in, he loves you so much and takes such good care of you. 

“i love you,” you mumble dumbly. he smirks, still focusing on his work. 

“what’s got you spilling your guts?” he reaches a hand to pat your head. 

“just love you so much. oppa takes such good care of me. makes me pretty and happy and still likes my loose cunt.” 

“mmmm but you’re already so pretty for me,” you whine at his comment, heart growing in your chest. 

“love you,” you repeat, head soft and mushy with the feelings for him. 

“i love you, pretty baby,” he leans in, kissing your thigh sweetly before moving lower to wrap your ankles. you keep repeating i love you’s as you watch him. head growing dumber as he fixes you up. 

“now baby, listen to me,” you look up at him trying to focus. “if you wiggle or move your wrists too much it’s gonna get really tight.” you nod up at him ‘no wrist wiggling, check’.

“and if you tug a lot,” he pauses wanking the rope behind your wrist making your legs fold pushing your tummy. “like that, your legs are going to bend even more. then you’ll start dribbling and we don’t want you leaking just yet.” you shake you head agreeing with him, even though you want to leak so bad.

“got it, no wiggling or tugging.”

“good girl.” he stands looping the rope over the hook he’d put behind the toilet just for Tuesdays. 

“so excited aren’t you? thinking about all the cocks plowing through you tonight. want to guess how many you might get?” this was a little game he loved to play with you the closer you were to the right amount the more orgasms you’d receive through the week. the farther away the more water you had to drink on next Tuesday. 

“mmmm maybe,” you paused thinking, running through a list of people. you know what’s going to happen but that doesn’t stop the desire forming your tummy. “three.” 

“are you cheating? checking my phone or something?” you shake your head as he slaps your clit, and make your wrists wiggle, tightening the rope. “my pretty girl’s just a good guesser.”

“is it really three? did i get it?”

“hmm we’ll have to wait and see. you know i can’t tell you until after baby.” he grabs the jingling bells from the counter. he said he got the bells so he can hear how hard you’re getting pounded.

using a finger he pinches your nipple hardening the bud in his fingers. the clamp squeezes you as it jingles. reaching for the other nipple pinching it rubbing a nail over the bud making you whine. attaching the other clamp and he starts tightening it.

the pinch runs straight to your pussy, tightening and tightening as it jingles. you keep telling him you should just get them pierced but he said there’s no fun in that. 

he runs a hand down your chest inspecting his work, his perfect girl exposed and spread out on her throne. fingers trailing from your pigtails down to your sticky hair that covered your pussy. 

hyuck told you he liked the way his cum looked when he painted you down there. but he still bent you over the tub and shaved down the lips and your pucker. the smooth razor tickling your skin as he groomed you. made you his pretty doll.  

“now let’s inspect that little cunt,” he gets back down level with your spread pussy. “such a pretty hole.” his fingers tug at your folds so he can see inside. 

“let’s make sure you’re ready.” you nod, bells jingling. he uses a finger to open you up but it’s way too easy, no resistance and it’s not enough for you. the toy you’d rode stretched you, made you loose and sloppy. 

“we’re just ruining your hole aren’t we?” cunt stretched from all the Tuesdays. he grins, adding a second finger from his other hand pushing inside of you to get a glimpse of your walls. he leans closer spitting inside of you making you moan. pulling his fingers out patting your cunt making sticky sounds as he does. 

he looks at the shelf on the wall. toys of all shapes and sizes are starting to pile on top of each other. the lower shelf had less, common, toys. cans and bottles, markers, a bag of ping pong balls, various vegetables he replenished that morning just for you, and your favorite, a toy water gun. 

you watch him rummage for something before he grabs the strawberry plug from the top shelf. he said you were so sweet so he had to get you something to match.

you feel giddy wondering what he’s going to do to you. you see his once soft cock now bobbing under his shorts. was it you making him so excited? were you pleasing him?

“since i gave you all my piss now and you get it later,” he pauses sitting the plug on the counter. “i’m gonna fuck you now and later. prep you for them and get you when you’re all soppy and loose.” you whimper at the thought watching him intently. 

“how’s your tummy?” he asks, pushing on your flesh and you moan out forgetting about the pulse against your bladder but now it comes shooting back. 

“gonna,” you whine, tensing as tightly as you can. 

“why don’t i have a taste, let me give you a little break.” he leans in, lips closing around your clit. the pleasure immediate as the tip of his tongue flicks over your clit and your little tiny hole begging for release. 

“you stop when i slap your thigh.”

“yes, oppa. i stop when oppa hits me.” you nod. 

“like this.” he slaps harshly on your flesh. you nod again this time your head bobbing resting against your arms. waiting for him to latch onto you again, hot breath closing in on you. his hand pushes your legs back pushing them against your tummy.

whining as you relax into his tongue softly flicking ready to drink you. you don’t know you’ve started until he moans against you. hot piss filling his mouth as his tongue flicks over your hole sucking every spurt from you. 

“oh god,” you whine, head lolling back as he sucks all of you up. it feels so good so relaxed, the flick of his tongue on your clit pulls you closer to a different release but the hand slapping your thigh pulls you back.

focusing as you tighten your muscles again stopping the flow from filling his mouth. he swallows it all, not a drop spilling into the water below, tongue collecting every drip from you. 

“such a good listener,” he says, pulling away from where you want him most. 

“now let’s decorate you.” he grabs a marker that’s seen all of you inside and out. only your oppa gets to use the pink marker. his friends have to use plain black.

he uncaps it, eyes grazing your body, deciding on his artwork. leaning in he draws a heart around your pussy the marker dragging softly on your skin. smiling at his handy work before moving his hand drawing a heart under your left breast filling it in with the pink ink.

you wonder what he’s going to write as he pulls the skin of your thigh taut. marker sliding across your flesh you think hard at the touches of the felt tip. it’s only four letters and he moves to the other thigh writing six more. you look down trying to reverse the image in your mind. 

“you’re thinking too hard again. c - o - c - k -space- s - l - e - e - v - e.” he spells it out for you. he grins as you sound it out. “one more.” he leans back in, hand dragging over your coarse bush. writing stacked letters right above the hair. 

F - R - E - E

   U - S - E

he leans back admiring his designs, capping the marker tossing it on the counter. before pulling his shorts up the same way you did earlier, hard cock exposed. your mouth waters for the second time. 

“you know you can’t go again until everyone is done. need you to be my good piss pup and hold it okay?” you nod as his cock pushes against your sticky hole. the tip filling you easily, before sliding into your heat. 

“oppa,” you moan as he bottoms out. you really are still so tight he just wants to tease you, he’d need to have you ran through so many more times. the thought of his girl, moldable to his cock getting fucked and filled with every dick he could find made him go harder. gripping the rope over your head he uses it as leverage thrusting into you fast and hard.

you know he won’t let you cum. fingers ignore your clit only tightening around the rope as you swing into him. harsh thrusts hit your cervix making him moan watching your connection, the sticky slick gathering on his thighs. 

“just a little hole for me,” he groans, speeding up just trying to cum not caring about your orgasm. just using you like a toy.

“wonder how loose your sloppy cunt’s gonna be after you get ran through.” you moan, squeezing around him the thoughts filling your airhead. you clench your fist focusing on tensing your muscles to keep your piss and orgasm away, it works for a little bit. 

“getting too sloppy baby,” he slaps your tit, bells jingling loudly. tugging on the chain, your nipples already sore and squished. but he’s so close and the look on your face is priceless. mouth hanging open eyes glassy and dumb. just a dumb little toy. 

“fuck,” he groans pulling out and squeezing his cock before pushing forcefully into your ass. you cry as the flared tip fills you up without warning. jerking his cock with a loud groan filling you with his cum. 

“take it like a good little cum dumb,” he fucks his hot seed into you. moaning at the stretch as he pulls out his hand reaching for the plug and quickly shoving it past your rim. you groan at the sting his hot seed locked into you. 

“keep that warm for me,” he thrums his fingers over the base, making it vibrate. he pulls away, letting his shorts cover his softening cock. your pussy is already swollen and drooling onto the base of the plug, a site for horny eyes. 

“gonna be good for our guests?” he asks, petting your face softly. leaning into his touch you mewl, cheek mushing into his palm. “if you get too loud.” he holds up your gag and you nod again. you’re always too loud, but he says the neighbors like it. you wonder if they’ve ever come over. 

he pulls away, dropping the gag onto the counter before turning around. setting up his camera, the tripods and cameras stay in the bathroom, angle already perfected to get all of your holes.

you sit watching admiring his practiced fingers clicking and connecting things you don’t even understand. you think he lets it stream on the tv but you aren’t really sure where else it goes. 

before he leaves on Thursday he plays them back for you so you can see. he whispers in your ear while he touches you. you can already feel yourself melting into his touch hands molding to your skin as he shows you how good you were. 

“already so dumb and we haven’t even started,” his hand on your chin pulls you from your dreamy state. whimpering as he looks you over one last time. a knock on the door draws his hand from you and makes your tummy flip, eyes wide and ready for whatever is going to happen. 

“right on time. now be good and don’t you piss. i’ll stop it all.” you almost beg him not to but he’s already leaving shutting the door behind him. leaving you all alone with your head spinning and voices through the wall.

you always wonder what they do, hyuck and his friends on the other side of the closed door. you wish they’d open the door but the element of surprise feels too good. do they watch tv, eat the snacks you prepared, maybe even play a game. 

you hear laughter and voices, but you can’t pick anything out specifically and you groan curiosity pounding in your head. you sit up as straight as you can when the handle jiggles but then it stops. they love doing this watching you get all excited but pulling away. it’s like when hyuck edges you for hours and hours and makes you cry. 

the door swings open and you stare up. it’s jaemin. oh you love jaemin so much. he grins at you sweetly as he shuts the door. 

“hi pretty girl,” he walks to you, his bulky frame standing over you. “look at you all spread out aren’t you?” you nod at him trying to sit up but the wiggling makes things tighter. right hyuck said that earlier. 

“has your oppa already stretched you princess?”

“unhuh, but you’re so big,” you whimper. remembering the first time jaemin shoved his cock in you. so thick so heavy and you felt like crying. hyuck laughed at you watching the way your cunt could barely take it. jaemin made your belly bulge now you felt sweaty the thought of leaking because of his cock. 

“am i?” he cocks his head at you squeezing your cheeks making your mouth open. you let your tongue hang out knowing he would spit down your throat.

“pretty little pigtails today.” he reaches for them, tugging your head back. you whine your neck pressed awkwardly against the rope behind you. 

“mmm i think i like this position.” he releases your hair dragging a hand lower tugging on the chain connecting your nipples making you whine. 

“want to be open for you.” you whimper as his hand creeps lower tracing the words hyuck had written. 

“is this true, free use?” he questions condescending tone spilling with every word and you love it. 

“unhuh. just a hole. want to make you happy, make you feel good.” you babble. 

“your oppa still making you grow your hair?” you nod in response. “still shaved here though,” his fingers spread, making a v shape trailing over the heart shape. jaemin loves teasing you making you beg for him to fuck you. 

“aww and you're all plugged up, what are you keeping in there,” he tugs at the slick covered base making you keen the stretch of your sore rim around the toy. 

“cum. oppa, his cum,” you babble spit starting to pool in your mouth and spill over your lips. 

“what a good oppa, but you won’t get pregnant back there baby,” he slaps the base of the toy. jaemin loves breeding too. likes telling you about how he’s going to fill you with babies. hyuck said you couldn’t have babies though. which was good because you were too stupid and irresponsible. 

“will you get me pregnant?” you ask innocently. 

“but you’re my friend's toy.” he groans, shoving a finger in your slippery hole. “can’t do that to your oppa.” he says, adding a second beside the first. you whimper watching his wrist flick and fill you. 

“won’t tell him,” you whine as his thumb pushes against your clit. still sensitive from hyuck sucking the piss from you. 

“oh he will notice. big round belly,” he rubs over your filled tummy bladder already swelling again. “you’d look so swollen even more than when you have my cock in you or when you're full of piss.” you moan at his words, the thought filling your stupid head. his hand pushes a little and you jolt tightening the ropes again. 

“awww are you all full now?” blinking up at you with that smirk that makes you want to do anything for him. you nod whining when he pushes again. 

“can’t. trouble.” 

“oh we don’t want that, do we?” his fingers continue curling into your sweet spot before he adds a third. you shake your head against the rope pigtails whipping your face. 

“hmmm i’ll have to be careful then won’t i?” 

“more,” your spit bubbles when you say it. he obliges adding a fourth finger but you want him, his dick filling your greedy cunt. 

“cock.” more spit spills and he grins at you. dumb and stupid and begging for him. 

“why didn’t you just say,” pulling his fingers out, wiping them on your thigh. he unzips his jeans and your cunt dribbles with slick, a thick drop hitting the water with a plop. pulling his cock out, too big and heavy it hangs between his legs. he holds the base shaking it in his fist. 

“which do you want first, princess?” your mind races decided between his hot cum or hot piss like a menu. 

“cum want cum. want it in my hole. so empty now,” you whimper. he grins at you watching you try to wiggle closer but groaning when it pulls your legs tighter. 

he moves closer closing the gap thumb pushing on your clit as he pushes roughly into you. groaning softly while you’re crying out at the stretch. stinging as he settles inside you. 

“so fucking tight. you know my little toy at home isn’t as tight as you are? i think i’ve ruined her holes now, she’s all loose,” you whimper. thinking of jaemin’s girlfriend, you call her Friday, that’s her special day. you wonder what her cunt looks like is it stretched from all his poundings. 

squeezing around him as he starts to slide in and out. such a pretty girl probably hiding a stretched hole under her panties just like you. 

pushing into you hitting your bladder and sweet spot with every thrust making you dizzy with pleasure. he lingers deep inside you knowing the nudge of his cock against your full tummy is pushing you over the edge. 

“bet you’re so full huh? holding all day for us,” he groans when you clench at his words, thumb circling your clit slowly. 

“so full,” you whine, eyes lazy as he rocks into you. he peaks at the shelf beside you deciding what special treat you might get. you don’t see what he grabs but you hear it the familiar buzz filling the sticky room. hips bucking when he presses the vibrating egg to you clit. jaemin loves this toy, loves the way you squeeze around him when the buzzing starts and stops. 

“wonder if i could fit this in here,” he pulls out long strings connecting you. he shoves the egg deep inside of you whimpering as the buzzing fills your walls. he thrusts into you before you can even collect yourself the egg hitting your cervix. 

“unnnnn,” you groan out the tip of his cock pushing the toy deeper and deeper, vibrating his member in you. 

“fuck, now you’re like a real toy. charged up and buzzing around my cock,” he groans, grabbing the rope on your thighs pulling you to him. you whimper more and more slick puddling out of you making lewd squelches fill the room. the sound alone could make you cum. 

reaching under his cock he tugs the string of the egg pulling and pulling making it squeeze beneath his dick. your walls stretch as he tries to pull it out without removing his cock. the stretch and buzz sending shockwaves through you. he groans when the egg shimmies under the base of his length and he jolts into you. you feel your mind going mushy only thinking of dick dick dick. heavy cocks filling you making you feel so good. 

“awww are you getting stupid?” he coos moving  a hand from the rope to tug at your lips spit dripping onto your chest. you try nod but aren’t sure if you did the only feeling being the fill of his cock inside you. 

“gonna take my cum baby? gonna make a baby with it?” he groans, getting sloppier. you whimper wanting to fill up with his seed growing your belly for him. 

“gonna fuck a baby in your little cunnie make you a little breeding bitch.” he moans as you squeeze around him the words filling you even more than his member. he pulls the egg out letting it rattle on the floor using both hands to push on your tummy hard and fast thrusts. 

“no no,” you moan, swollen bladder trying and then leaking. 

“i won’t tell baby,” he moans hot dribbles coating his cock before you can stop. you cry thinking of hyuck coming in and pulling jaemin off of you as you piss and piss without any relief. you tighten hard and fast stopping the stream but breaking jaemin his load shooting deep and hot inside of you. 

“shit baby,” he groans, pushing his seed deeper. “gonna make you a dumb little mommy.” his thrusts slow but he keeps filling you with his load seeming to never end. your bladder is still full but you can relax a little when his hands no longer press against you. whimpering sadly when he pulls out his cock almost white from all the cum. 

you let your tongue hang out hoping he will give you a taste of something. he circles his fingers around his cock gathering all the slick before putting his hand to your mouth. lapping quickly collecting all of your mixed juices savoring the taste. he leans down spreading your cunt watching the cum try to spill out but he doesn’t let it. grabbing a different plug, a clear one to stuff inside of you, keeping you full. 

“gonna let me give you a shower?” you nod stupidly, mouth still hanging open waiting for his treat. he bends his knees letting his sticky cock lay on your tummy right over the words hyuck had written. the size is shocking, wondering how you can fit all of that inside of you. the tip practically reaching your ribs. 

“tell me you want it.”

“piss please. what your juice please, daddy. want it.” he grits his teeth at your words letting hot liquid spread over your belly. you whimper watching the stream grow and puddle in your belly button.

“so warm.” you whine as the liquid starts to drip below you. it makes you sad the thought of losing all his precious piss to the toilet water. what a shame. 

“you’re so disgusting.” he moves his hips rubbing his leaking cock against you. “little piss slut. love being a nasty bitch.” you moan clenching around your plugs. his stream slows trickling down your sides and into the water before he stops.

standing up he grabs his heavy member standing over you he brings it to your lips. moaning around him the bitter piss and his salty cum filling your mouth. whimpering, he spurts one final time down your throat before pulling away. watching him with a satisfied brain dead look. 

“fucking gross girl,” he coos twirling your pigtail. he grabs the rattling egg turning it off quickly. you smile at him stupidly as he reaches for the black marker from the counter exchanging it with the egg. he uncaps it tapping the tip on his chin as he decides what to write. hand hovering over your collarbones as he writes in pretty swirly letters. pulling away he admires his work before doodling beside hyuck’s lettering. drawing a crude dick, tip towards your cunt with small drops spilling on you. 

“i think that suits you.” he tosses the marker the same way hyuck did before tucking himself back into his pants. 

“daddy,” you whimper. 

“be good for the others they’ve been waiting all week for you.” he grins, slapping your cunt. your eyes squeeze and when you open them you're alone again. 

whining you kick your feet, ankles dangling as you look in the camera. hoping someone notices your need, your emptiness, your want. the door pushes opened and you hear laughing as jisung gets shoved inside. oh sweet jisung, just a precious boy. he’s so soft with you like you’re fragile. 

his head is down as he shakes his hair out of his face awkwardly shuffling over to you. 

“hi,” you look up at him. 

“uh hey,” he mumbles, looking you over. it’s always awkward at the start with ji, taking a bit to warm him up. or really him to warm up to the idea of what he’s partaking in. 

“missed you,” you pout. it had been awhile since you’d seen him maybe a month or more you weren’t sure all the days ran together. 

“really?” he perks up. 

“unhuh, where did you go away to?” you whimper. his hand slides over your ankle fingers tracing the rope. 

“was busy, was working you know,” he mutters, hand going higher up your thigh making you tingle. 

“oh okay,” you ignore the fact that he doesn’t have a real job. 

“you look so pretty today,” making you grin. “little pigtails and makeup.” he rubs your face, thumbing the smudged mascara on your cheeks. 

“oppa even decorated me,” you smile looking down at your still wet tummy, letters smudged. 

“i see, and who wrote this?” his fingers trail the cursive jaemin had added. 

“jaemin. what does it say?” 

“piss slut,” he’s so casual about it. “your oppa told me he was growing your hair out. sent me some pictures.” you whimper at the thought of jisung’s phone full of photos of your hairy pussy. 

“did you like it?” you hiccup. 

“thought about how pretty it would look when i cover it in cum,” he says, making you whine. ideas of him jerking off onto your sloppy cunt. his fingers twist the sticky hair pulling and tugging harshly. 

jisung didn’t usually fuck you, usually he’d come in with a cock hard and red and rub over your clit until he came. you didn’t mind you were a toy for his pleasure after all. 

“mmm look at you,” he gets on his knees peaking into your cunt trying to get a glimpse of the white liquid inside of you. “maybe i should add some to you?” you can see gears moving in his head as he contemplates. taking time to dance a finger over your clit as he thinks.

he stands quickly shuffling his pants down and pulling his cock out. jisung and jaemin are around the same length but jisung is skinnier just like their bodies. he leans against you rubbing his cock over your clit pushing into your hair. you moan at the drag of his length over your swollen bud. pulling away he reaches down pulling the plug out quickly shoving himself in to replace your emptiness. 

“fuck,” he groans hot cum surrounding his cock. he doesn’t know what to do with the plug so he just looks at you before shoving it in your mouth. you moan at the stretch of your lips. jaemin’s cum sliding on your tongue.

he hisses as he thrusts into you, cum forming a ring around his cock with each move of his hips. he won’t last long you think, he never does. that doesn’t stop you from savoring the drag of his cock the head bumping your cervix again. your walls pulsing around him squishing cum over his length. 

you can’t speak only moan around the plastic in your mouth the taste of jaemin wearing off as it slides down your throat. jisung grabs at your thighs using the rope to pull you against him, meeting his quick thrusts. 

groaning as his pelvis smacks against your clit and his balls heavy and sticky as they meet your ass. you can feel him getting sloppier almost ready to cum, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“gonna fucking.” he hisses looking at your begging eyes. he yanks the plug from your mouth and spit bubbles out as you whine. his shaky hand moves the plug ready to shove back in so you can keep all the goodies. 

“shit,” he whines shooting hot into you, shakily pulling out of you and shoving the toy haphazardly into your abused cunt. he continues jerking himself letting the rest of his cum spill onto your pussy, painting your bush like he wanted. you can’t help but ogle at the way his cum continues spilling in slow streaks over you. 

“fucking hot,” he mumbles rubbing his cock against your coarse hair. he’s still hard, rock solid against your pelvis. he shakes his head standing back up trying to fix his cock in his jeans. but the bulge is so prominent he just leaves them unzipped bulging in his underwear. you want him to fuck you some more until his cock is dry and spent. you want him to feel good. 

he looks around the counter trying to find the marker jaemin had thrown earlier. he lifts it like a prize before looking back to you. he already knows what he wants to write so he doesn’t hesitate. uncapping the pen with a shaky hand pressing to your tummy. with small letters he writes cumdump right on your thigh he adds a heart and arrow pointing to your hole. he stands up awkwardly rubbing his hands together laying the marker on the counter. 

“thanks,” he says, rubbing his neck as he turns to leave.

when he opens the door, jeno's already waiting like a line forming at a stadium for the bathrooms. jeno looks at jisung and eyes the bulge in his pants. 

“is she too loose for your little cock?” he teases flicking jisung’s cock. jisung whines holding a hand over himself as he tries to sneak past jeno. you see eyes peering around his shoulders watching you. your heart grows all the affection for you and what you’re good at. jeno enters slamming the door behind him.  

“hi puppy,” he his voice instantly softer, his sweet grin filling his face. jeno is so lovely. attentive and affectionate, soft and kind, but also so hard and thick and strong. 

“papa,” you draw, maybe even dribble a little over your plug like a dumb puppy seeing its favorite person. 

“miss me baby? not even been a week.” he smiles down at you petting your head sweetly. jeno was over just yesterday, was it yesterday you aren’t sure. he’d held you on the couch so your oppa could inspect your cunt. soft big hands on your thighs while hyuck fingered at your opening. peering in and taking close up pictures of your walls. using a special camera so you could see your cunnie on the tv. 

your papa held you and praised you over and over making your feel soft while your gummy walls were explored. then he’d lifted you, shoving his cock into you while your oppa watched and rubbed himself. the camera was long discarded as he watched hot breath and fast on your cunt. 

you liked when your oppa and papa made you pretty together. your papa, soft and sweet and your oppa, mean and rough. papa filled you up so much. you still felt the ache in your thighs. 

“just like you so much,” you admit. 

“aren’t you so sweet? do you think about me when i’m away?” you nod shyly face warming. you really do, even when hyuck’s inside of you. maybe even earlier when you fucked yourself open for him. thinking of pressing your face into jeno’s balls while he held your head and praised you for doing as you were told. 

“what do you think about?” you felt shy even though you had told him before. even told hyuck and hyuck shared the same affections you felt.

inviting jeno over for dinner or a movie or your special time. having jeno come watch you when hyuck had to leave. watching his pet when he couldn’t. making sure you got fucked and played with so you didn’t get bored. hyuck didn’t want your cunt to rest, he said if you didn’t cum enough your brain would start working too much. he didn’t want your head to hurt, he loved you so much. 

“just you know,” he caressed your cheek, thumb collecting spit and putting it in your mouth. 

“tell me, puppy.” jeno got to call you your special nickname too. hyuck told you it was reserved for him and papa only.  

“unnnn,” you whine when his finger circles your clit. “you, and mmm. think about papa, ma-making me pretty,” you whimper. he watches you, warm eyes staring into you. only hyuck could make you pretty, but jeno was so special. hyuck teased you about it, made you tell him all about it while he played with you. hyuck even let you call jeno papa or oppa. everyone else was daddy or mister or something like that. but jeno was, your papa. 

“want your papa to make you pretty?” you nod your head filling with mush all over again. making you pretty was when hyuck fucked you stupid. made you empty headed and dumb for him. a drooly, pissy, toy he played with. 

“has your oppa even made you cum?” he tilts a head circling his finger faster over your clit. you shake your head, eyes squeezing together, release drawing closer. relaxing your muscles to his touch. 

“so mean,” he turns, looking into the camera. “how about your papa makes you cum? does that sound good?” you nod no words able to form. 

“papa will even let you dribble a little. i know you’ve been such a good pup, holding all day. having all your glasses. your oppa even told me you had extra.” you nod his praise filling up your tummy. his fingers rub faster and you feel the relief so close to you like you can taste it or touch it. 

“you can let go. just a little bit for papa, cum for me puppy.” you moan head lolling back as you cum, hot spurts of piss spilling. “good puppy get it all out.” he rubs his fingers, spraying your piss everywhere, opening his mouth to collect what he can the rest staining his shirt or landing in the water.  

“stop,” he instructs but his fingers still attack your sensitive clit. tightening again you stop the stream a little dribble spilling out over the plug. leaning his head in he collects the leftovers and what cum is on your cunt. standing up he squeezes your mouth open, spitting the fluid into your mouth hot on your tongue. 

you can’t help but moan at the taste. his fingers slow as you swallow before patting your clit. 

“that feels better right?” you nod lazily trying to spread your legs wider for him. “look at all your pretty words.” his fingers trace the messages left on you. you wish he had a special marker just for him. maybe purple or blue. 

“piss slut,” he reads, hand racking down your chest. drawing a heart with his finger over the heart on you. “free use.” his hand pushes on your tummy still full and needy. he grins as he moves lower. “cumdump. is that true?” you nod. “hmmm,” he investigates, tugging your flesh to see the words. “cocksleeve,” he whispers, thumbs brushing your inner thighs. 

“you’ve been doing so good,” he says, spreading your cunt watching it swallow around the plug. 

“been watching you get played with,” he continues pulling at your thighs to spread you. “such a good toy. makes papa hard watching his pup get filled up.”

“papa,” you whimper, eyes watering. 

“papa will fill you up too, don't worry puppy. i know your little cunnie is needy and needs more doesn’t it?” stupidly bobbing your head. your papa is right you do have a needy cunnie that needs more wants more. 

“papa can i taste you,” he tilts his head up pausing his inspection of your swollen cunt. 

“sweet little piss pup,” he coos standing over you pushing your legs back farther with his own. 

he unbuckles his belt pulling the leather from the loops. brushing your pigtails away and moving your head so he can wrap the belt around your spit covered neck. he tightens it to the special loop he made just for you. his hands are soft and sweet as he brushes your skin and tightens the leather making your throat squeeze. 

he unbuttons his slacks pulling his chubby cock out. jeno is shorter than jisung and jaemin but he’s so thick. cock fat and heavy. you liked to think of him when hyuck put a soda can in you. the stretch similar to him but not as warm and heavy, only when hyuck would fill it with his pee did it get a little warm or heavy. 

he pulled the waistband lower, letting his balls hang heavy under him. he knew you loved them. loves the slap on your chin as he fucked your face lips aching at the stretch.  

you whined mouth watering as he held himself leaning into you one hand on the wall as his cock found your lips. 

“want it all in here puppy?” his tip prodded your lips. 

“wanna drink it all. wan it in my tummy.” you whimpered tongue sliding over the tip. 

“don’t spill any puppy,” he pushes into your waiting mouth. and you try to swallow around him, lips already stretched with just the head. 

“let’s fill up that tummy,” he pats at your bulging belly. moaning when you begin to taste him. your cheeks puffing up as he empties into them. he releases the hand from his cock letting you do the work. lewdly slurping and swallowing in quick succession, bitter yellow pouring down your throat so fast you can barely taste every drop. 

“good pup,” he whispers, holding your pigtails pulling you somehow closer. moaning when your lips stretch around him. he pokes your cheek watching you hurry and swallow so none spills out. his legs pressed into your harder making your muscles ache the stretch more than you were used to. 

maybe your oppa was right to stretch you more. he said good toys were flexible so you had to do your classes, bending over, touching your toes, he wanted to work you until you could get your legs behind your head.

you gulp and swallow and gulp some more drinking him in.

“you’re gonna suck me dry, puppy,” he coos as the stream slows taking your final swallows, already missing the fill of your cheeks. you keep him in your mouth, tongue flicking the tip of his cock tasting the last little drops.

you keep swirling your tongue around him trying your best to keep his heavy cock in your mouth. he groans almost growling, tugging both of your pigtails to force his cock deeper. moaning around him at the stretch. shoving himself deeper but you can barely take half of. you swear you’d been practicing, hyuck even got a big toy just for your mouth. 

“tiny little mouth,” he mumbles a thumb trying to pull at your stretched lips. you feel tears welling as he pushes deeper and deeper. your teeth slightly dragging over his length, jaw not going wider. he thrusts into your mouth gagging you and the tears spring. 

“aww is it too much pup?” thumbing at your wet eyes, mascara smearing more. you want to shake your head beg him to fuck your throat until it can take his length with ease. he pulls out spit spilling and covering his cock. bubbles spilling onto your chest. 

“let’s see,” he holds your chin tugging your lips open peeking down your throat. “doing so good for papa.”

he steps away, your legs falling slightly. you miss him already. the warmth of him pressing to you. 

“want you,” you whimper opening your fist but you can’t reach out for him. 

“you have me,” he whispers, rubbing your face again. he grabs your hand lacing your fingers together, making you melt. 

“no papa,” you search for the words. “want you down there.”

“hmmm where?” he teases. hand roaming down. “here?” touching your chin you shake your head. “maybe here?” he drags his hand lower, squeezing your breast. you shake your head again pouting. 

“what am i missing?” he questions, grabbing the belt and tugging. 

“papa, down there,” you stare up at him. 

“here?” fingers dancing over the plug still stopping up hyuck’s cum in you. 

“nuhh, my pussy, my cunt, my hole, cunnie. in me. want you,” you crack huffing at him. he just smiles softly. 

“oh why didn’t you just say that puppy? you want me here?” tapping against the clear silicone stuffed inside of you. you nod eagerly. 

“did they get you all stretched for papa?”

“unhuh can take you, been practicing so good,” you whimper. 

“how do you practice?” biting your lip thinking to your practice. 

“oppa makes me- he got me a big big big toy. oppa makes me sit on it while he plays games.” you babble. “makes me dribble cause it pushes on me inside.” you sound stupid only thinking about his cock filling you up.

your tummy felt hot when hyuck made you sit on the toy. he told you it was your pretend papa for when you needed to practice. sitting you on the floor in front of his chair while he played his games and talked to his friends, you buried the toy deep inside of your cunnie, belly bulging as you grinned against it. small puddle forming under you, piss and drool spilling from your holes. 

your oppa would pick on you, call you stupid pissy puppy but it made your brain heavy face shoved in his crotch smelling his piss soaked shorts. his foot rubbed against you using his toes to push against your tummy making you spill and spill more gripping yourself to stop the flow but it just soaked into the carpet. it was just another wet spot littering the space beneath his desk. 

“poor piddly puppy.” he pouts tugging at the plug keeping the mixed cum inside of you. “papa, needs to get you some puppy pads for all those dribbles.” 

“please,” you whine, he tugs the toy out slowly before pushing it back in. cum squishing around the base. 

“remember no more leaking, pup. papa’s gonna push your insides too but you can’t make a mess okay.” you nod as he holds his cock tugging the toy out using his tip to collect any spills before pushing into you. you’re always prepared for the stretch but it shocks you again. hot and heavy as he slides in cum sloshing in you. 

thick so thick and big and so heavy and full

“still such a tight little pussy,” he groans. fat cock filling you up fucking used cum deeper into you. 

“papa’s so,” you babble as he thrusts into you. 

“dumb puppy,” tugging your pigtail again. thrusting slow and deep, making you keen. thankful he let you dribble earlier but the push of him against your bladder makes your eyes shake. 

“full,” you mumble spit dripping from your swollen lips. 

“what’s that pup?” he groans, pushing into your sticky walls. 

“full, puppy so full papa,” babbling as his thrusts speed up. he tugs at the belt wrapping it around his wrist using it to pull your cunt to him. slamming heavy balls against the plug in your ass. your brain is broken just jeno and his cock and the fullness of your whole body. cunt, ass, bladder, all filled to the brim. 

“look pup,” you open your eyes blinking up at him following the direction of his eyes. your tummy bulging with each deep thrust. 

“little bladder bulging while papa fucks you. i’d fuck the piss out of you pup but your oppa would kill me,” he groans. jeno had a tendency to fuck the piss out of you. remembering the first time you finally took him all embarrassed when you started spilling over his tummy. but he just fucked you harder grinning as hyuck watched you. 

“wanna go on your cock,” whimpering, wishing hyuck would open the door telling you to let go. 

“i know, puppy. papa wants your little pissy cunt to let go.” he spreads your pussy, fingers rubbing your clit again. “bet you're already full again with papa’s piss.” you whine feeling the liquid slosh inside of you. 

“hold it for papa,” he fucks you harder belt tugging on the belt around your throat as he pulls you into him. “can’t even make puppy cum or you’ll make a mess.” he pouts but doesn’t stop rubbing your clit bringing you closer. 

“papa, ‘s gonna.” his fingers dragging you to release before he pulls away so you don’t make a mess. you groan pussy fluttering, but he just smiles back at you. 

“papa’s gonna fill up his puppy’s cunnie,” he moans as you clench again, tightening the hold on your piss. 

“want papa’s cum. want papa to make me have babies,” you whimper. he lets go of the belt lacing your fingers again making you purr brain melting at the affection.  

“want to be even more swollen, puppy? gonna have little pups for papa,” you moan loudly at the words. 

“want papa to stretch my tummy,” you beg, holding his hand tighter. 

“fuck, nasty puppy,” he moans sloppily fucking into you. “gonna take all papa can give you?”

“want papa,” he groans, thrusting a deeply hot seed filling your sloppy cunt. 

“nasty pup wanting papa’s babies,” he groans, slowing but still unloading cum into you. 

“just want all of papa,” you babble. he rubs a thumb over your hand before releasing it reaching for the slimy plug on the counter. he pulls out slowly before roughly shoving the toy back into you. patting the base before pulling away. his cock is still so heavy hanging over his balls. 

“so you want all of me?” you nod you really do. wishing he stayed beside you in the bed sandwiched between him and your oppa. sitting in his lap while your oppa played games so you weren’t so lonely at least your hand made good company for now. jealous thoughts crept in sometimes wondering if he had a toy. you wanted to be his only toy. 

“such a good pup for papa. so good,” the praise melted into you like hot lava. his hand held your face sweetly as you nuzzled closer.

“now pup,” he gets eye level to talk to you. “papa’s gonna go, but papa’s gonna be here when you get done okay. papa’s gonna watch you, not much longer now and you can get all that piss out.” you nod into his warm palm, his other hand soothes your belly. so soft and safe and strong. 

“miss you pa,” you mutter, he reaches up, unclasping his belt, sliding it from around your neck easily. 

“i know puppy, i’ll miss you. but i’ll be so close.” throwing a thumb in the direction of the door. “be a good puppy and get all filled up okay.”

he pulls away, but grabs the marker. you watch as his hands soothe over your skin soft and tender. he starts with little hearts drawing sweet and pretty designs over you. 

“hmmm,” he looks you over, deciding. the marker goes to your inner thigh writing ‘papa’s’ then switching to the right thigh and writing ‘puppy’. it makes you hot and warm and mushy in your head. 

“papa’s good puppy, aren't you?”

“papa’s puppy,” you agree. he leans over you kissing your lips softly. 

“i’ll miss you,” he pulls away, lingering before opening the door and slipping away. 

you pout to yourself already missing his warmth the room growing cold now. the need to go comes in waves as you wait, muscles sore and tired from being bent and folded up. you want more though. head empty save for thoughts of cocks filling you molding your holes to their shape. if you weren’t plugged up you’d be dripping. thoughts of heavy cocks filling you soothes the ache in your muscles. 

“oppa,” you call looking into the camera beside your head. “more.” you stare lazily into the lens pleading eyes, listening for anything but you just hear voices not able to make out words. 

the door swings open and mark stands before you. you feel giddy. something about mark made you feel sneakier and dirtier. he was in seminary, studying the word and praying before participating in these activities. the idea of his school finding out about this made you tingle. 

“fuck,” he groans looking you over. “you think you have some room for more?” 

“always have room for mark,” you grin at him. 

“i don’t have much time.” your face shifts into a pout at his words. 

“gotta go to mass,” he coughs. your tummy flips, he’s come to fuck you before going to confess all of his sins. does he tell his priest about you?

“you don’t have to just, maybe, just.” you pause trying to come up with an idea. he’s pulling his cock out hard and pleading for something. “use my mouth.”

“jen stretched you good huh?” he leaned closer pushing his legs against you the same way your papa had. he’s leaner legs not as hot against your skin. thumbing over your swollen lips dragging them open. 

“want cock,” you parrot like a little robot. he laughs at you coming closer, hands on the wall leaning over you, the tip pushing into your mouth. 

“fuck,” he hisses as you take him swallowing easily around his length. jeno’s length but not the same meaty thickness. a nice good size especially for your little mouth. he thrusts into your hole spit spilling from your lips when he pulls back. you moan as he hits your throat holding back a gag as he continues. you need to make him feel good, make him cum. 

“shit, just like that,” he moans into his palm, grinding into you his pelvis hitting your nose with ease. he doesn’t move keeping his cock deep in your mouth and you start to choke around him. he pulls out sloppily, spit spilling over his cock before you can even catch your breath he’s pushing in again. lips stretching around him as he drags slow and steady inside you. 

“gonna make me cum,” he whines, thrusts fast and sloppy into your throat. he slips out pulling away jerking at his cock, a finger tickling at his own nipple over his shirt. 

“holy fuck.” he groans thrusting into his fist. you eagerly watch the slide of his hand over his spit covered cock so delicious. 

“cum on me mark. want it all over me please,” you whine. you wish you could do the work, hold his cock in your hands and have him spill over your fingers. the door swings open, slamming it behind him. 

“fuck,” mark whines so close. watching intently as hyuck grins at you from behind mark his fingers sneaking around to pinch marks nipples. 

“what the- shitt,” he moans, white cum spurting onto your tits catching on the chain. you watch as your boyfriend teases mark’s nipples and somehow you grow wetter. hyuck whispers in mark’s ear. 

“filthy piss baby,” he hisses, cum painting your tummy and chest a pretty little mess. you whine tongue hanging out hoping to catch a measly drop.

“dude what the fuck,” he tries to turn to hyuck but he grabs him pushing mark back against your legs. 

“awww hyung, i thought you liked it.” hyuck says, grabbing mark’s cock making him hiss. 

“bro what the fuck,” he tries squirming away but hyuck holds his cock tight flattening his other hand rubbing his palm over the tip fast and hard. mark whines melting into hyuck. you’ve watch this game they’ve played many times. mark trying to push hyuck away but eventually caving from the pleasure. 

the scene in front of you makes you want to touch yourself. hyuck swirling mark’s cock in hot circles making the older boy cry into his hand. 

“she wanted you to make a mess, hyung. so you better fucking make a mess,” hyuck growls, he’s practically humping mark. mark's tummy is tensing and he lets out a loud whimper as clear liquid pulses out of his cock spilling onto your tummy. 

“oh my god,” you whine watching it cover you in messy spurts. hyuck slows his hand before tugging on mark’s cock making him wince. 

“good boy,” he pats his back, releasing his hold on him. 

“you’re such a freak,” he turns, pushing hyuck away. 

“you still didn’t do everything she asked.” hyuck pushes mark back to you forcing him to face you again. “c’mon you can do it. i told you what would happen if you didn’t.”

hyuck grabs mark’s cock again, aiming it at you. your mind only thinking about what hyuck would do if mark didn’t do what he said. it makes you clench your filled pussy. 

“look she’s waiting,” hyuck said, shaking mark’s cock. hot stream hitting your tummy before you even realize mark’s pissing. moaning as it hits your tits with hyuck’s help. 

“what do u say to her?” mark whines. 

“little piss bitch. you like it when you get covered in my piss,” he whimpers. your mouth still hanging open and hyuck aims to hit your tongue and you swallow greedily letting it spill over your lips. 

“can’t deny that little face,” hyuck coos watching you lick your lips. 

mark stares at you eyes wide while hyuck holds his cock piss slowing to a dribble then stopping. hyuck shakes mark’s cock the last drops hitting your cunt sliding down over the base of your toy. 

“now,” hyuck pauses, tucking mark back into his jeans. “go repent.” he pats mark’s ass and mark’s face burns as he quickly leaves. the door stays open while hyuck stands in front of you. 

“aren’t you so pretty,” he coos, rubbing your sticky cheek. “room for one more?” you nod staring up at him, failing to notice the group forming at the doorway. 

“didn’t even have to gag you. i think all those cocks in your mouth helped.” he pulls his hard cock from his shorts lowering the elastic until his balls hang. 

“unhuh,” you agree, mind spilling out of your ears as you watch him come closer. 

“been stretched so much i think you’ll take me good.” he tugs the plug from your ass making you cry as his cum spills out onto his cock. you whine clenching, missing the fullness but he doesn’t make you wait, shoving into you quickly. you hiss at the stretch, his cock pushing past your tight rim with practiced ease.  

“oppa,” you whimper, cum squelching inside of you as he fills you up. it squeezes out of your tight hole, spilling out of you around his cock. 

“took so much cum so well,” he moans, he tugs at the plug stretching your cunt, squishing cum around the silicone. “fuck so slippery.” 

you can’t pull your eyes from where he enters you cum covering his cock, sticking to his legs as he slams into you. 

jisung peers from the doorway and you see them, jaemin, jeno, and jisung watching as hyuck pounds his own cum from your hole. whining when you make eye contact clenching tightly around hyuck. 

“so gross, you want them to watch?” he motions them closer and they pile in heads all down watching the way you swallow hyuck’s cock. 

“such a greedy slut,” jaemin moans, his fist jerking over his cock. 

“love being a little toy for us to use,” hyuck says, slamming into you. 

“takes it so well doesn’t she?” jeno says with his heavy cock in his hands. 

“so disgusting,” jisung adds, rubbing his fingers over the tip of his cock. they encircle you, surround you with dick just like you like. 

“gotta go,” the pressure on your bladder is too much as hyuck hits it hard with each trust. 

“aww gonna piss? “ jaemin perks, you nod your eyes fluttering trying to hold back but it’s harder and harder. 

“gonna piss on your oppa’s cock?” hyuck groans. 

“is gonna,” you whine squeezing around your oppa. “please.”

“mmm i dunno.” you whimper at him as jaemin’s hand pushes down on your tummy, his evil smile right in your face. 

“what do you think?” looking over to jeno. he leans down closer to you, his thumb pushing on your clit, rubbing at the bud. 

“she’s been such a good puppy, she needs to make a mess,” he says softly. 

“i guess, are you gonna listen to your papa?” jeno’s pet name falling from hyuck’s lips make you tingle with want. you nod making yourself dizzy, hands all over you, holes full. 

“let go for us little pup,” jeno says and you can’t hold it anymore relaxing quickly letting hot piss spill from you. jeno’s thumb spraying it over hyuck’s tummy, his shirt turning yellow.

you melt into the feeling bladder releasing as your orgasm rolls over you. pleasure from everything all of your thoughts fall away. hips bucking into hyuck as you shiver, piss still spraying hard and fast you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. hyuck moans at the way your sticky hole flutters around him pulling him in. 

“fuck,” he groans pouring more cum into your ass. “such a good cumdump.”

“so much piss,” jisung mutters, the hand on his cock fast and sloppy. you whimper at his words embarrassed but pleased. 

“ it’s - ‘s too much,” you whine, wiggling trying to escape from jeno’s thumb and hyuck’s cock still filling you. the pleasure sending shockwaves through you. hyuck slows his hips as your piss dribbles down over his cock. 

“such a good puppy,” jeno coos at you. 

“god you're so soft with her, why don’t you just marry her,” hyuck rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at his lips, staying inside of you. 

“how can you be mean to this sweet thing?” jeno rubs your cheek with his piss covered fingers. you mewl nuzzling into his sticky palm. 

“easy,” he says, tugging the chain making your squeal. jisung groans, making the boys turn their heads to see him pumping his cock frantically. 

“gooner,” jaemin says flicking jisung’s chest. 

“you know what? i really have to piss,” hyuck says, turning back to you. 

“in me,” you mumble into jeno’s hand. 

“you heard her,” jeno uses his other hand to tug on hyuck’s hair making him whimper. he keeps his eyes on jeno, staring as he commands the room. hyuck whines again hot piss filling you up and bubbling in you. his moves his hips letting it gush out of the tight hole. 

“open,” hyuck does as jeno says mouth wide when jeno spits into it making you whimper. your tummy is hot and bubbly as you fill. 

“fuck,” jisung groans, leaning closer so he can cost you in his cum.

“mmmm,” you love the feeling hot jizz pooling on your tummy as pee is fucked into you. 

“she’s so nasty,” jaemin comments looking between your legs, where hyuck’s piss dribbles out and into the water. reaching again for his cock jerking himself over your leg.

hyuck finishes filling you but jeno keeps a hold on his hair as he pulls out. a gush of yellow before hot sticky fluids glob out of your sloppy rim plopping into the water. 

“look at that,” jeno says leaning over hyuck’s chubby cock pulling his hands from your face and his hair he spreads your cheeks watching as the cum spills out of you. leaning even closer you feel his breath before he spits on your hole. 

“god you really are just a dump huh? how do you even fit all that inside,” jaemin moans again as his hand speeds up. 

“toy,” you bubble. “stretched me.” 

“yeah your oppa’s too small to do that,” jeno smirks at your boyfriend

“fuck you.”

“mmm you wish.”

“shut up i’m about to cum,” jaemin growls. you moan again your boys bickering makes you drippy. hyuck spreads your legs, making room for more cum to shoot over jisung’s puddle growing in your bush. 

“messy puppy,” jeno coos at you, dragging his fingers from your ass collecting the fluids before bringing it to your lips. you moan taking his fingers into your mouth easily whimpering at the salty bitterness the taste means they care for you. he fucks his fingers into your mouth pushing them deeper making you gag around them. 

“can i,” jisung interrupts, raising a hand. “uh piss on you?” you nod eagerly watching hyuck stand and make room for jisung. 

“you know you don’t have to ask?” he says grinning as jisung steps in front of you, his face red. 

“i think i could go too.” jaemin grins, holding his cock aiming it at you. “jen,” he asks, nodding at jeno’s heavy cock. 

“not yet,” you pout, wanting him to make you messier. his fingers slide from your mouth holding your chin sweetly, calming you down. you’re too focused on your papa to see the piss start dribbling out of jisung. 

“she likes it when you piss on her clit,” jaemin says reaching to grab jisung’s cock and aim their streams at your swollen bud. you whined loudly watching it splatter on you, the hard waterfall hitting you in just the right way. 

“moreee,” you groan, the hot streams vibrating you so close to another orgasm. 

“fucking disgusting. are you really gonna cum because they’re pissing on your cunt?” hyuck teases. you squirm trying to grind against the liquid. 

“gross girl,” jaemin says as he moves closer to you, his tip getting sprinkled on. his hand slowly moves on jisung’s cock and he’s already getting hard again. whimpering when jeno shoves his fingers in you fucking the last of oppa’s cum out of you 

“gonnna,” you groan out back arching as you release again. piss still streams on your clit but it was jeno’s fingers shoving inside of you that sent you to the edge. he keeps going his digits fucking the liquid that spill on his palm into your sopping stretched rim. 

“shit, ji’s already hard again,” jaemin announces, piss stream slowing to a dribble as he still jerks jisung’s in his fist. the boys all look at the movement, watching in glee as his cock grows stiff once more. jeno’s fingers help you come down slowly before pulling out cum spilling alongside them. you whimper when he rubs his sticky fingers over your swollen and used up pussy. 

“sorry, i -“ jisung whimpers when jaemin speeds up. 

“do you even have anything left?” hyuck teases reaching around to pinch the boy's nipples, making jisung cry and his face go red. you watch the slide of jaemin’s hand over jisung’s cock, the scene makes you clench causing another glob of cum to spill out of you. you can’t help it. 

“aww even our dumb puppy likes it.” jeno coos flattening his fingers to rub your clit hard and fast before pulling away only to slap it. you arch into him rope tugging on your skin. when you look back, jeno has his hand next to jaemin’s spreading all your juices over jisung. 

“fuckkkk,” he mewls, pulling his lip between his teeth, hips thrusting into their hands. 

“let her have it,” hyuck mumbles into jisung’s neck. 

“yeah ji, cum for your hyungsss,” jaemin coos. and jisung loses it legs shaking as he moans our eyes closed tight when clear starts spurting from him. you whine when it hits you coating your tummy and pussy all over again. watching his slit spill it over jaemin’s fist while jeno pumps the base. 

“so pretty,” you whimper. 

“yeah she likes watching boys touch each other. makes her little cunt wet,” hyuck says pinching jisung’s nipples once more before releasing him letting him crumple on the cool floor. 

“aww you get off to anything don’t you,” jaemin says, petting your face with his hand still coated in jisung’s leftover cum. you nod into the touch savoring the warm sticky feeling against your cheek. 

“i would show off some more but i’m spent,” hyuck says, eyeing jeno who has yet to cum for a second time. jaemin nods in agreement pulling his hand away but admiring you. 

“i guess i could give our puppy some more,” jeno draws, making you perk up. 

“pleasse, papa,” you beg kicking your ankles. 

“we can still watch,” jaemin grins, peeking at the bulge in his friend's pants. he licks his lips not so subtly when jeno pulls himself out, cock heavy. 

“and still touch,” hyuck slithers a hand over to jeno’s ass pushing him towards you. 

“you know,” he continues tapping his chin with a finger, before tugging jeno away and bending down. “this little hole is still full. maybe you could use it.”

jeno eyes the base of the plug still in your pussy. the tempting tight warmth he craves. 

“papa please,” you whimper. the thought of him stretching your pussy one more time makes your whole body warm. he smiles at you before grabbing hyuck and pushing him back easily. moving between your legs, hands over your inner thighs. 

“show us how you stretch her cunt won’t you jeno?” jaemin asks squatting to get eye level with your hole. 

“pa,” you repeat babbling stupidly so cock drunk to even make anymore words. 

“sweet stupid puppy, gonna fuck you now. you’re gonna be good and take papa’s cock?” he soothes a hand over your inner thigh before tugging at the plug the cum spills out easily before he can push in letting it drip onto his cock. 

“unhuh,” you can’t say much, just whine and moan when the head pushes into you filling your used cunt easily. sloppy wet squelching fills the room as he fucks into you. 

“fuck,” jaemin says watching the way your pussy swallow all of jeno’s fat cock. 

“jen we wanted a show,” hyuck says from behind tugging at his pants, letting them poop with his boxers on the floor. you can’t see what’s happening behind jeno just hear hyuck giggling. his hands spreading jeno’s cheeks so he can peek at his asshole. watching the swing of his balls against you, from between his legs. jeno doesn’t flinch just keeps fucking you full and full and full. 

“i think she wants it harder,” jaemin grins and you nod. he moves behind jeno stepping behind hyuck before he grips his hips pushing him somehow harder and faster into you. your mouth just hands open spit drooling as your mind grows dumber and dumber just cock on your  brain. 

“fuck,” jeno groans, hyucks hand grabbing his balls squeezing them. 

“cum papa, won’t you cum for your puppy,” he teases, watching from between jeno’s legs as his cock disappears and reappears more cum covering it each time. 

jeno moans out fucking his hips deep into you making your hiccup. you whimper as his tip hits your cervix, cum spilling. jaemin keeps his hands on jeno’s hips pushing him as hard as he can into you. 

“breed your stupid little pup,” he groans into jeno’s neck. you moan at the words the thought of jeno’s seed making a bay in you swelling you up all for him. jeno soaks in your heat for a moment catching his breath before pulling out slowly letting the cum drip from you. not totally sure who it all belongs to at this point. 

“good puppy,” he puts leaning to kiss your cheek then your lips still open as you drool from them. you whimper lapping at his lips. cum still coming out in globs. 

when he pulls away he joins the pile of boys on the floor in front of you. all red faced and sleepy looking at you still open and pretty for them. 

“she’s still gonna be spilling cum for another day,” jaemin laughs. jisung shakes his head, still eyeing the way it piddles from you. 

“you know hyuck doesn’t care if she pisses on his bed, he's not going to care if she gets cum in the sheets,” jeno smiles, remembering when he’d sat on that same bed with hyuck watching you clutch yourself to keep from pissing. but hyuck pushed his feet into your tummy, making you spill and spill until you cried. sitting in the puddle before hyuck made you touch yourself while they watched. you’d been so good, so obedient, and so embarrassed. 

“she likes the smell,” he beams at you and you nod. 

“she’s disgusting,” jaemin says, laughing at the pout on your face. 

“she can’t help it,” hyuck pouts back at you. “i broke her so long ago she doesn’t even remember what it’s like to not be disgusting.” 

jaemin stands up first walking over to you before patting your thigh. 

“see you next Tuesday, make sure to stretch your little cunnie for me,” he grins before waving to the boys and leaving the room. 

“he’s my ride,” jisung shuffles up awkwardly waving as he leaves quickly following jaemin. 

“and then there were three.” hyuck says. 

“did you get all brain dead, puppy,” jeno pulls himself up walking to you. you babble a response. 

“wanna stay over?” hyuck nudges jeno’s shoulder. 

“if you don’t mind an alarm, i gotta work tomorrow.”

“nope our dumb girl will sleep through anything. you’ll have to wake her up with a drink though,” they grin at you expectantly. the ideas for the early morning are already filling their heads as your empties even more. 

[orieriee]

Would My Asian Parents Approve? — Love & Deepspace Boyfriend Edition

Ranking how approvable LADS men by my asian parents if I bring them home for dinner

note: ‼️ This headcanon is just my interpretation of how my Asian parents might react. It’s also a bit of a stereotype, reflecting the typical dynamics of a staple Asian household, but it’s all in good fun so please take this with a grain of salt, this is just my own personal interpretation and meant to be taken light heartedly.

another note: based on their personality and their interaction in Love and Deepspace game when introducing themselves to your parents + my own interpretation! Uses she/her mainly, and also "you" instead of "me"

written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

👑 Number 1 : Zayne ☃️

Zayne is definitely the top number one of most likely to get approved by my asian parents

Heck, he put has their blessing the moment he sits down for dinner for the first time

It's definitely not because he's a doctor with a stable job

I mean he's a cardiac surgeon at 27! With an award at that! Immediate approve 💯

He's the kind of guy who brings thoughtful souvenirs for your parents when he comes over for dinner

I can already picture him bringing a premium tea gift set that he specifically got according to your parents' taste, beautifully packaged and looks expensive 🍵

Honestly, he's already the son-in-law! Came for dinner, stayed for marriage plans and the future

What can I say? He’s polite, good-looking, and probably smells wonderful—like a hint of jasmine mixed with a bit of antiseptic due to his work

He’s the type to compliment my mom’s cooking, and she'd be so pleased that she'd serve him the best portions instead of giving them to me 😔

"Here, eat more meat! I made plenty just for you,” she would say with a happy smile

Even dad would probably like him immediately, pulling him aside and ask privately, “So, when's the wedding?” — like, dad, chill, it's Zayne's first time coming over for dinner

They know their daughter is in good hands with Zayne as her husband

👑 Number 2 : Caleb 🍎

I'm putting Caleb as my second in the most likely my parents would approve list because he works for the government as a pilot (a stable job)

There is a consideration though: my mom would ask "If he’s a pilot, wouldn’t you be lonely since he’s often up in the air?”

She also worries about the risks associated with being a pilot, given the dangers involved in the profession

But Caleb is the type of guy who immediately gets along with mom and dad, probably because they already knew him as their daughter's childhood friend but coming over for dinner (as a partner) is a different matter

From the very first meeting, he accidentally introduced himself as “son-in-law” as an accidental slip of the tongue

During dinner, he is charming and a great conversationalist, which creates a wonderful atmosphere

He openly expresses that "I adore your daughter very much, you guys did a great job creating her" and reassures parents that he will protect you. He often joking around to ease the mood

He enthusiastically offers to wash the dishes and is a fantastic conversation partner for mom

With dad, he can discuss all the mechanical topics that only fathers understand, which makes sense since he’s a pilot

Relatives probably adore him too, as he easily makes friends with everyone.

He’s the kind of boyfriend who prompts mom to frequently ask about him, like, “When is Caleb coming over for dinner again?”

(The last 3 are under the cut!)

🌟 Number 3: Xavier ✨

Xavier is third because he is the last one with a "real stable job," while the next two would likely be questionable in my Asian parents' eyes

His primary hobby is sleeping, and since that doesn't lead to productivity and is sometimes seen as lazy in a typical Asian household, it could raise some concerns

However, mom really likes him because he looks like a prince

He is the type of boyfriend who makes my Asian mom ask, “How did you manage to attract someone like Xavier?” like, as if he's out of my league because of his prince-ly beauty which I take personally

With his princely, ethereal looks and charm, it raises the question of how I managed to win over such a beautiful man

He is polite, has a soothing voice, and can cook and clean, which is great since their daughter barely tidies up around the house hey

Xavier works in the same field as we do, which reassures parents that he can support their daughter in her career

Although he may appear innocent, the protective Asian dad senses that there might be something “impure” about him

He’s not very talkative but insists on helping around the house, which is a plus

My mom keeps insisting that he stay over, but we all know that it won’t end well

My dad implicitly disapproves of him staying over, as we all understand what might happen ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And it's something inappropriate

💫 Number 4: Sylus🐉

Ok... Sylus girlies, don't come at me, but man I think Sylus is somewhat awkward at first if he's meeting the parents for the first time

My parents personally might find him intimidating because he is quite the large guy... With silver hair and red eyes and all (but mama I'm in love with a criminal)

He introduced himself as the owner of a family business, which is a relief since it shows he is responsible and established

As he shares more about himself, my mom starts to relax and feel more comfortable with him

However, when he mentions his hobbies of shooting and racing and wanting to ask them to join, I worry because my dad has back problems, which Sylus, honey... I don’t think that helps😭

So yeah, imo I think he is the type of boyfriend that my family needs time to warm up to

But once they start to get to know him, he quickly becomes their favorite

Like in some days, you'd be surprised and ask, "What do you mean you're going to the opera too with Sylus?" showing how much mom enjoys his company by asking him to go with her because he also enjoys music

It surprises me that Sylus even asked my mom to join him for the opera; they’re practically best friends now!

Sylus has a way of showering them with luxury, frequently brings thoughtful gifts when he visits, like gourmet snacks and special treats he got from overseas

Despite his intimidating appearance, he has a gentle side that puts parents at ease, proving that he genuinely cares about their daughter

‼️Number 5: Rafayel

He's a painter, and no, I'm not a Rafayel slander

I mean, a creative job?? In an Asian household??? My parents would definitely question how he could possibly support himself AND their daughter with such work

An artist as a job = no money in the eyes of Asian parents 😭🤡 (trust me)

We'll also hear "You own a home by the sea?? Wouldn't you catch sea sickness? Isn't it a bit dangerous at night?", as they ask in concern

From the very first impression, Rafayel comes off as casual and laid-back with mom and dad, which... Doesn't seem to earn their approval 🤡

However, I think my little sisters and cousins would love him because he's sassy, encourages their creativity since he's an artist, and is a merman

While parents may not approve of him, younger relatives have already declared him their favorite "brother"

But once Rafayel shows them that even an artist can be rich by inviting them to his house

So, once the parents visit his art studio and see the stunning view, they are likely to be amazed by the beauty of his surroundings

His home resembles a vacation house, and he drives expensive cars, which further impresses them

He probably took them on a cruise ride and had the most delicious seafood dinner, which definitely win their hearts

Although my parents might still have some doubts, they will gradually come to accept him once they see how in love we are

I actually have a lot of headcanons ideas and stories to write about LADS men but I just don't have the time to write 😭 they're occupying my head 24/7 just by floating around my head space.

[wandasaura]

CAN NEVER BE TOO THOROUGH

summary — after getting injured in pursuit of a suspect, olivia insists that she check you out too

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, dom!olivia benson, praise kink, name calling, pet names, office sex, public sex, fingering, clit stimulation, brief thigh riding, teasing, slight humiliation, hair pulling, biting, licking, finger sucking, implied oral fixation, captain kink, begging, slapping, crying, brief mention of injury, inspection kink, slight orgasm edging/control, men/minors dni

authors note — olivia benson returns and so does the smut. i don’t even know what to say anymore, im on a rampage, truly

“I’ll see you later!” Fin laughed, waving over his shoulder as he finally left for the night. But, before you could do the same, you were being beckoned to the Captain's office, Olivia’s brooding expression drawing you in from the doorway where ambient light spilled over her leather shoes. Fin shook his head at the door, hearing the very beginning of Olivia’s command, and knowing what it would entail for you. Or at least, some of it.

“Detective!” Benson’s voice boomed, sudden and unexpected in the relatively quiet precinct. Rollins and Carisi had already gone home, the latter coming by to pick up the former because apparently they had dinner reservations uptown. Fin just left, taking a single donut from the break room with him — even though it had become stale yesterday afternoon, and was beyond the point of redeeming itself even with its rainbow sprinkles — and Kat, well, you just hadn’t seen her in a while. So, that left only you around to hear Olivia’s instruction. “My office.” She gave a pointed click of the tongue, but you would’ve complied anyways. It had been a long handful of hours since the last time you’d been able to get your hands on her.

You kicked your desk chair back into place, not worried about the cluttered highlighters on your desk, all of their caps switched to the wrong colors, a lovely gift from Fin who’d apparently never learned to appropriately channel his boredom during Benson’s lectures. You, on the other hand, had been blind to it happening at all, too caught up in a fantasy of her taking you over the desk. Again. Amanda had known what you were thinking of, you’d been her friend before you’d been the Captains girlfriend, and she’d batted your thigh in disgust — though she’s definitely going to be texting you later, asking if anything came from your hormonal fantasy.

Olivia stepped back into the room when she was sure that you were coming, following her directions the way she knew (and expected) you could. You closed the door behind you when you stepped inside, and before the latch could fully click against metal, her body backed you up until cold pine sent shivers down your spine.

Your palms splayed across the sleek wood, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you stared up into her hazy chocolate eyes. You could trace endless constellations in her gaze when the sun hits her pupils the right way, but what you’ve really come to love is how lust creates a whirlpool until all that remains is black pupils outlined by enchanting golden rings. Her hand inches up, and you think she might touch your face, might pull you in for a kiss — the first kiss you’ll share since six o’clock that morning — but instead she closes the blinds and lets her exhale ghost across your jawline.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded breathlessly, already craving her touch on your body that had taken a hit in pursuit. You’d been out of the precinct for nearly two hours, holed up at Mercy getting assessed before 1PP called you in and tried to scramble your brain until you admitted trauma — when nothing came from the forty minute interrogation framed as a therapy session, they begrudgingly released you back to Olivia who had been swept away by a hit you’ d been desperately chasing. To say you needed a remedy for the emotional toll of your day couldn’t compare to the weight of what you needed. The first thing on that list was admittedly to get Olivia in bed though. Her office just couldn't hold a scene the way you needed it to.

“Is that how you ask for something?” Olivia seethed, her teeth grinding together as her jaw became a firm line of structure. You swallowed thickly, arousal disturbing the delicate tendons in your thighs. The small quiver in your knees, you hope is unnoticeable, but Olivia smirks, her eyes jutting down to see your thighs squeezing together now, no longer just twitching for contact and pleasure. You thought you might’ve gotten away with your lust-drunk plea, but then a hand tangled into your hair and yanked your head back until you could see the tiles on your ceilings. That sight was covered by your eyelids, a heavy sigh sinking off of your lips.

“Kiss me, please, Liv.” You pleaded, your head still tilted upward, her tight grip not allowing any sort of tension to loosen. The strain in your neck and sting against your scalp was pleasant, familiar; far better than being slammed into the concrete by a six foot jackass with a warrant. “Baby, please, I need you to kiss me.” You arched your head, forcing her grip to give, to let you move until you could inch your lips just the slightest bit closer, and Olivia almost let you get away with it, but just before your lips could touch hers, she tightened her fist and slammed you back against the door, her chest now keeping you flush between herself and the door. No escape.

“Where are we?” She inquires, her gaze piercing, unforgiving as it unravels you, pulls you apart until you’re just clumps of nerves beneath her electrified touch.

“Your office.” The words are thick, heavy, breathy, and they fan across Olivia’s chin as you drop your gaze to her breasts, the tanned skin peeking out from the unbuttoned top she’d picked out from the closet that morning.

“My office. Good girl.” Olivia praised, leaning in close so that she could crane her face into your neck, biting down sweetly onto your shoulder before she soothed the indentations of her teeth with her hot tongue. Her warmth was welcomed, a deterrent to the cold that claims your fingertips. “And what’s my name when we’re in my office, hm? I know it’s in there. In that pretty head. I haven’t broken you yet, sweetheart.” She teases, her mouth moving up your neck, open kisses dampening your skin until you’re not sure what's damper, the trail she’s paved toward your earlobe that she claims between her teeth, or your thighs that tremble and quiver, unable to pinch together tight enough to give you any kind of release.

“Captain.” You sigh, moaning gently when she tugs your earlobe, her tongue swirling around the diamond studs she’d gifted you for your second anniversary.

“Mhm, and a Captain has to make sure her detectives are capable of doing this job.” Olivia mused, trailing her lips against your cheek until the edge of her smirk touched your pout.

“I was already cleared.” You tried to excuse, but then her lips captured yours, and it didn’t matter that you’d already signed endless paperwork, been fondled by exploring hands, and had your blood drawn unnecessarily.

Another gasp crawled up your throat when her knee pressed between your legs, the warmth of your core spreading against her thigh. It only took a moment for your hips to seek friction, rotating back and forth with the structure of the door as leverage to keep you both upright. Olivia’s hands framed your face on either side of the door before she caught your jaw in a bruising grip, the fingers of her left hand making a tantalizing trail to the waistband of your slacks.

“Oh, but sweetheart, they might’ve missed something. Just let me check, yeah?” She breaths against your lips, and you can only agree when her hand finds your core between her pants and yours, her thumb seeking to fiddle with the pulsating nerve beneath her touch. “Gonna let me check, baby? Need words from you.”

“Yes.” You sighed, your head throwing itself back onto the door when her fingers undid the sterling silver button and snaked inside of your panties, stopping right before your clit. Her forefinger and middle circled your pleading bud cruelly, only securing whatever dampness was within reach and not exploring your clenching hole that yearns for her fingers, or her strap, or her tongue.

“Yes, what?” Olivia huffed, yanking your hair again until your eyes met her, wide and glassy as you tried to move your hips into the palm of her hand. Olivia tsk’d at that, the hand in your hair disappearing to instead slap your clothed thigh.

”Yes, you can check, Captain. Please.” You cried out, tears of desperation leaking from your eyes. It was so easy. You were so easy.

“You’re so pretty like this. Begging your Captain to check you, to make sure you’re alright. So easy for me, sweetheart. I barely have to put up a fight.” She teased, her tone condescending and light, concealed with gentleness that had you gasping when her fingers began to explore your folds, sweeping through the collection of wetness until she found the spot the caused it all. “Oh, what’s this. My pretty little pussy is absolutely dripping. Does this hurt, sweetheart?” Olivia knew what she was doing as she eased a single finger into your cunt up to the second knuckle.

You gasped breathily, your back arching off the door and as far into her chest as it was able.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” Olivia snapped her wrist, and suddenly that finger was probing the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars. Another finger was added, two thick digits stretching you out, the metal of her rings so aggravatingly hitting the sensitive skin beside your clit but never direct contact.

“N-No.” You whimpered, tears still leaking down your face, glittering rivers of pent up emotion visible in your single glance. “Please.”

Olivia only hummed, ignoring your pleading, your begging, the squelch of your juices as she scissored your cunt, fingering your hole open until her palm was slick with arousal. Her touches were incessant, practiced and experienced, but it brought you no closer to the peak of pleasure you so desperately wanted to find.

Instead, she pulled her fingers out, trailing her touch along your lips again. You whined, unable to help herself, and Olivia shut you up with a blinding kiss, her teeth digging into your lip until you yelped pathetically. “Be quiet.” She instructed, her fingers slipping through your folds, so close, so close, oh god. “Oh, does that hurt? That was a pretty sound, darling. You only make that sound when something hurts. Come on, be honest with your Captain.”

“Please.” You broke, your eyes glimmering with pearly iridescent tears and your lips trembling.

“Please, what? Come on, I know you can tell me.” She encouraged, her fingers still working your clit, still teasing your senses.

“Please, it hurts! It hurts, please fix it. Captain, please, I need you.” You sobbed, chasing Olivia’s lips, but she pulled away from you entirely, her hand leaving your pants, your face, your hair. That heavy pressure was replaced with fingers pressing against your lips, an order already at the forefront of her tongue.

“Clean me up.” You didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly accepting her fingers into your mouth, the weight of her digits familiar and comforting even with the throb between your legs. “Good girl.” She praised, pulling her fingers from your lips only when your dutiful licking and suckling became impatient nipping, trying to lure her back in. “Pack up your desk. We’re going home.” She informed, kissing you sweetly as her fingers buttoned your pants, her fingers trailing over your cunt just to smile teasingly as your hips jolted.

Olivia didn’t have to tell you twice. You dont think you’ll even survive the walk back.