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dksfml · 13 days ago

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Love 119 [Part Three]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part two]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,” he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

[part one] [part two]

taglist: @1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol

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yunniverse · 26 days ago

Text

Bliss

౨ৎ PAIRING— jeong yunho x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, established relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— very fluffy, yunho’s the best husband

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 0.9k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— a soft morning with yunho

౨ৎ A/N— i genuinely want this with him :( i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3

You blink your eyes open, letting them adjust to the bright morning sunlight filtering in through the window. The room feels pleasantly warm as you look to your right to see your husband, still sleeping peacefully.

Yunho’s face is flushed with a morning glow, a lock of his dark messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he breathes deeply.

Your breath is almost taken away as you quietly watch him, admiring the way he can still look so ethereal, even after sleeping and rolling around all night.

You’re convinced he’s an angel. There’s no other explanation.

As you look at him, a faint smile grows on your face. Your gaze drops to his hand, resting on the pillow near his head, the size of it making butterflies swim in your stomach.

Gently, you reach out, tracing the lines of his long, slender fingers, before carefully flipping his hand over to trace his palm.

You’ll never get used to the size difference, his whole hand is almost the size of both of yours, but they fit so perfectly together. Like puzzle pieces.

Unable to resist any longer, you reach out, brushing the lock of dark hair off his forehead, listening to him groan softly, stirring, but not waking yet.

Smiling to yourself, you gently trace Yunho’s collarbone before moving up to his jawline, stopping when you reach his lips. They’re parted slightly as he sleeps peacefully, looking smooth and soft. You fight the urge to kiss him right then.

Instead, you gently trace your thumb along his bottom lip, watching as he stirs again, wondering if he’ll finally wake. But he doesn’t, simply snuggling more into the silk pillow.

Deciding you want to see his pretty eyes, you lean in, pressing soft, gentle kisses to his face before moving to his neck. He tilts his head to give you more access unconsciously, probably not even realizing he’s doing it.

After a moment, his eyelids flutter opened and he blinks lazily a few times before he speaks, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. “G’morning, my love.”

“Mm, good morning, handsome,” you smile, pressing one last kiss to his nose as Yunho sleepily grins, the hand that was resting against the pillow lifting to cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His words send butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you feel yourself blush, knowing your cheeks are flushed pink.

Yunho chuckles, the sound rumbling from his chest as he moves his hand to the back of your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re shy, you know that, right?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you respond, your cheeks still colored pink as Yunho smiles softly before gently tugging your head down, until it’s only inches away from his.

“I love waking up to your face,” he whispers, his brown eyes sparkling with devotion.

“Likewise,” you giggle, the butterflies still very much present as you lean down a little closer.

Yunho’s gaze slowly shifts from your eyes to your lips and back again before he speaks, his fingers gently playing with your hair, “I love you, you know that?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you laugh, repeating your words from earlier as Yunho squeezes your neck gently before his hands shift to cupping your face.

“Most wives tell their husbands they love him too, hm?” he tells you cheekily, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

“Oh, they do?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I suppose I should stick to tradition then, huh?”

He nods, his gaze now glued to your lips as he shifts almost imperceptibly closer, “It’d be nice to hear those three pretty words from you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, it would?” you ask teasingly, making his gaze snap up to meet yours again, a hint of a challenge swimming in their dark depths.

“It would,” he replies, his voice husky, with a hint of a possessive growl.

“Whoa, no need for that, baby,” you laugh, smiling, as he rolls his eyes playfully. “I love you, Yunho. So, so, so, so much. More than the whole universe, all the stars and planets and everything, and more than—“

He cuts you off, pulling you down to brush his lips against yours in the softest of kisses, successfully shutting you up, as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his soft lips.

He soon deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours, still gentle and so soft. He holds you as if you’ll break if he doesn’t handle you gently.

It makes you fall harder for him as you respond to his gentle kiss. You pull back for air once before kissing him again, intoxicated by the feeling you’d never felt before kissing him.

No one else compares, and you’re positive they never would.

When he pulls back, breathing a little heavier, his lips now glistening, he smiles, his eyes sparkling, as he boops your nose with his finger. “Bliss looks good on you.”

You laugh, playfully smacking his chest, as he leans in, kissing you one last time, before letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Your senses are overwhelmed by the slightly peachy, sweet scent of his body-wash, mixed with his comforting natural scent. It makes you breathe in deeply once again, sighing contentedly as you snuggle into his neck.

“Comfy?” he asks softly, his hands rubbing up and down your back before resting against your lower back as he squeezes you a little closer.

“Mm, very,” you respond, mumbling into his soft skin. “I could live right here forever.”

“Oh, you could?” Yunho chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. “I wouldn’t mind at all, my love.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you continue breathing in his scent. “Can we stay like this forever?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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d-z20 · 1 day ago

Text

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't enjoy the chapter ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone.

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.”

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin.

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine.

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing.

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

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girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

Text

birds of a feather

"i knew you in another life" "you had that same look in your eyes" "i love you, don’t act so surprised"

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. tooth rotting fluff. established relationship.

summary: "i love you in every universe."

the warm afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow over the grassy clearing. the air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the gentle hum of bees buzzed around the two of you as you sat cross-legged on the soft grass, your fingers deftly weaving a colorful flower crown. percy lay with his head in your lap, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. his dark hair felt soft under your touch as you carefully arranged the flowers, making sure each one was placed just right.

the two of you had stolen away to this hidden spot, far from the hustle and bustle of camp half-blood. it was your secret sanctuary, a place where the both of you could escape from the chaos of your lives as demigods and simply be yourselves. as you worked on his flower crown, you found myself lost in the simple, soothing rhythm of the task.

percy’s voice broke the comfortable silence, soft and contemplative. "do you think parallel universes are real?"

you paused, your fingers stilling for a moment as you considered his question. "i don’t know," you admitted, your focus still on the flowers in your hands. "maybe. there’s a lot we don’t understand about the universe."

percy opened his eyes and looked up at you, his sea-green eyes thoughtful. "i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. about how there could be other versions of us out there, living different lives."

you nodded absently, selecting a bright yellow daisy and adding it to the crown. "it’s a nice idea. infinite possibilities and all that."

he reached up and took your hand, his touch warm and grounding. "do you think we’d still find each other? in those other universes?"

his question caught you off guard, and you looked down at him, your heart skipping a beat. there was something earnest and vulnerable in his expression that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"i don’t know," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i’d like to think so."

percy’s smile widened, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "i think we would. no matter what."

you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "how do you know?"

he shifted slightly, turning so that he could look up at you more easily. "because i love you," he said simply. "and my love for you is so strong, so pure, that i can’t imagine any version of me not feeling the same way. it’s like... like a universal constant."

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, focusing on the flower crown to hide your embarrassment. "that’s... really sweet, percy."

"i’m serious," he insisted. "i believe that in every universe, i would find you. and i would love you just as much as i do now."

you could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. you finished the last few touches on the flower crown and gently placed it on his head, the colorful blossoms a stark contrast to his dark hair.

"there," you said, smiling down at him. "perfect."

percy reached up to touch the crown, his fingers brushing against the petals. "thank you," he said softly. "for everything."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "i don't think i could love you any more than i already do," you said quietly. "i think i’d love you till the day i die."

he closed his eyes again, his expression one of utter contentment. "that’s all i need to hear."

you stayed like that for a while, the world around you fading into the background. in that moment, it didn’t matter what dangers awaited you outside your little sanctuary, or what challenges you would have to face as demigods. all that mattered was the here and now, and the love the two of you shared.

and maybe, just maybe, percy was right. maybe your love was a universal constant, something that would endure no matter what. it was a comforting thought, one that made you believe in the possibility of parallel universes and the idea that you would always find each other, no matter what.

as the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. because in every universe, in every possible reality, you knew one thing for certain: you would always love percy jackson.

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syluslnd · 2 months ago

Note

hiii ive been reading a bunch of your work for a while and i luv em ^^. can i ask if you could do a scenario where sylus discovers your s*lf-h*rm scars? if its too triggering you dont have to

sylus reaction to your self harm scars

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly feeling the weight of sleep slowly lift from your body.

Beside you Sylus lay quietly his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His presence was comforting and as you blinked your eyes open a soft sigh escaped your lips.

Without thinking you stretched out your arms letting your muscles wake up along with you. It was a lazy, comfortable movement, one you'd done countless times.

But this time, as you reached above your head, Sylus's gaze shifted. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating softened as he watched you. He always looked at you like that in the mornings-like he was seeing something precious, something fragile. Yet today, something was different.

As your arms stretched out the sleeves of your loose shirt slid back just for a moment revealing the faint but unmistakable lines on your wrists.

Sylus's gaze sharpened immediately. His usual calm, controlled demeanor faltered just for a second but that second was all it took for his heart to twist in his chest. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly and he stiffened beside you. His eyes flickered over the cuts-small, faint but unmistakably deliberate.

At first, his mind raced to a darker place.

Had someone hurt you? The thought was instant, primal, filling him with a flash of anger. But no-he knew that wasn't it. Sylus was nothing if not observant and as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. This wasn't something someone else had done to you.

This was something you had done to yourself.

His stomach twisted an unfamiliar feeling of dread settling deep inside him. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what those marks meant and for the first time in a long time he felt... lost. Sylus was used to handling difficult situations, staying composed no matter what. But this? This was different.

He didn't know if he should say something. If he should bring it up. The air between you felt suddenly thick charged with something heavy and unspoken. You were still stretching lazily, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

Sylus stared at your wrists for another beat before you lowered your arms back down, your shirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of whatever had been going on beneath the surface. You turned toward him with a sleepy smile, your eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.

"Morning" you mumbled softly, unaware of the way his gaze had hardened, how his expression had tightened for just a split second before he smoothed it over with a casual smirk.

"Morning, sweetie" he replied his voice even though there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. He reached out brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, though his mind was anything but calm.

He didn't bring it up immediately. For the next few minutes he tried to act like nothing had changed like he hadn't seen what he just saw. But it was eating away at him gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Sylus wasn't one to ignore things, and certainly not when it came to you. He was always so good at teasing you pushing your buttons just enough to make you blush but this... this was different. This wasn't something he could tease away.

As you lay there beside him your head resting on his chest he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to your wrists hidden beneath the fabric now but the image of those cuts was burned into his mind. His hand resting on your arm felt the weight of every line every mark that told a story he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Sweetie" he began, his voice unusually soft but there was a tension beneath it. You shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him noticing the way his brow was furrowed his usual calm expression giving way to something more serious.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice still groggy from sleep.

For a moment Sylus hesitated something uncharacteristic for him. He wasn't the type to dance around things but this felt... delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing everything might crack.

"I..." He trailed off, his hand brushing lightly over your arm, his fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. "I noticed something. On your wrists."

Your heart skipped a beat your body tensing immediately. You knew what he was talking about and suddenly the lazy morning felt far too suffocating. The room, once warm and comfortable, now felt like a trap.

Sylus watched the way your expression shifted, how your eyes darted away from his, how your breathing grew just a little more uneven. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct inside him was screaming to ask, to demand answers.

"I'm not stupid, kitten" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Those aren't accidents, are they?"

You felt your throat tighten the weight of his words pressing down on you. The cuts— something you had tried so hard to keep hidden to push away-were now laid bare and Sylus, with his sharp eyes and relentless persistence, wasn't going to let this go.

"No” you whispered barely audible your voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. "They're not."

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them again his gaze was steady, though there was something darker behind it. "Why?" he asked, the word heavy with emotion. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

You bit your lip, tears already welling in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know..." you started, but it felt hollow, like an excuse. You knew exactly why. "It just... it helps. When everything gets too much, it's like... it's the only thing I can control."

Sylus's expression faltered his usual confidence cracking as he processed your words. He had never seen you like this-so vulnerable,so lost. You, the person who was always so bright, so full of life. The one who always smiled, always laughed, even when he teased you relentlessly.

He felt guilt settle deep in his chest. Had he missed this? Had he been so caught up in his own world, in his work, that he hadn't noticed how much you were struggling? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

"You should've told me" he said, his voice low but there was an edge of frustration in it.

Not at you but at himself. "I should've been paying more attention. I should've known something was wrong."

You shook your head quickly the tears finally spilling over as you sat up wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from his piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Sylus” you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to be a burden."

His eyes flashed with anger-again not at you but at the situation. "A burden?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "You think you're a burden to me?"

You flinched slightly at his words, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. He reached out, his hand resting on your arm again, this time more gently.

"You're not a burden" he said, his voice softening. "Not to me. You never could be."

You looked down at your hands, your heart heavy with guilt and shame. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It's... it's hard. It's hard to explain why I do it and I didn't want to make you worry."

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand moving to cup your cheek tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I’m already worried, sweetie" he said quietly. "and I wish you would've told me sooner. I hate that you've been going through this alone."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside you and you couldn't hold back the sob that escaped your lips. You collapsed into his arms burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything you'd been holding in finally came crashing down.

Sylus wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly against him his chin resting on top of your head. "I'm here now" he murmured his voice steady though you could hear the pain behind it. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe-just maybe-you didn't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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cys-fic-library · 7 months ago

Text

Nighttime Affairs (The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, bit of orgasm denial, bit of dirty talking, creampie, biting (its cooper i dunno what you expect, he's going to bite you), oral - reader receiving, complicated relationship, bit of yearning/pinning, fluff, cuddling, kissing, splash of angst, not beta read

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x gn!afab!Reader (reader's gender is never mentioned but they do have a vagina)

Wordcount: 4256

a/n: made the smut a bit angsty at the end there by mistake. whoopsie daisies. Anyway, like it says above readers gender is never mentioned. But they do have a vagina (because I have a vagina, and I want to fuck the ghoul). Nothing about reader's chest is ever mentioned either. Also I usually write fluff/non smut fics, and only tend to post that. I have written smut before, but this is just my first time actually sharing some of it. So like ;-; Okie dokie? okie dokie.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics (much love j ❤️)

Nights in the wasteland were always a deadly affair. All sort of creatures made themselves known—both human and non-human alike—never having the friendliest of tendencies. It was why you always made sure that your windows remained boarded up. Double checking the door of your home to be firmly locked, before finally making your way to bed.

You always kept a gun hidden beneath your pillow as you slept. Easy to grab in case of a break in. Acting like a sort of safety blanket. Hoping that such a comfort would help you sleep soundly, though most nights you still found it difficult. Restlessness haunted you. Plagued your mind. Never truly able to rest easily—not with danger lurking around ever dark corner.

Sometimes that unease proved helpful. Such as tonight, while on the brink of sweet slumber, there had been a shift in the room. The sound of worn floorboards creaking jolting you awake. It wouldn’t be the first time some wanderer had tried to get the jump on you in the middle of the night.

Hand quick to grab your gun, you point it at the new body in the room. Adrenaline pumping in your veins. Heart on edge. Ready to fire at a moment's notice.

“Easy there sweetheart.”

Your tired eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to clear away your sleep clouded vision enough to properly comprehend the familiar figure currently standing in the center of your tiny room.

“Cooper?”

The Ghoul grinned at you in the darkness. Hazel eyes almost seeming to shine from the moonlight that managed to filter in. His head had tilted to motion to the gun in your hand. An amused hum leaving him. “Bit of a rude way to greet your guests.”

“Wouldn’t call you much of a guest.” You lowered the gun and rubbed at your face with a sigh. “More of a nuisance if anything.”

“Aw, your words wound me darlin’.” His words drawn out and mocking, as he feigned being hurt, before he had turned from you to continue removing his gear. Setting it all wherever he liked in your room. Acting almost as if he owned the place. Not a care in the world that he was currently invading your home uninvited. Again.

You could only seem to roll your eyes as you watched him. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Oh just passin’ through.” The Ghoul said with a casual hum. Pulling out his own gun, its barrel glinting just as his gaze had earlier, before he set it on your nightstand. The tossing of his hat onto your bedpost quickly following. “Needed a place to stay.”

It hadn’t been a question. He wasn’t asking. Never really did when he chose to invite himself into your home. It used to scare you way back when you first met the Ghoul. You never knew if the next time he came would be the one where you met with a bullet.

But you learned quickly that Cooper only ever did what he felt he needed to. Wouldn’t take the life of someone he found to be useful. He didn’t kill pointlessly like that. Everything had a reason with him. Even if you couldn’t quite see it at first.

“Well why don’t just make yourself at home then.” You grumbled. Annoyed. A bit more bite to your words then usual. Though it hadn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest.

“Already on it sweetheart.”

You glared at him, but he continued to barely pay any mind to it. As you went to put your own gun back beneath the pillow, you had laid down again. Rolling to face the wall, and letting out a tired breath, as you tried to settle. Let the exhaustion claw at your mind and allow your eyes to flutter close. Trying to ignore him just as he did to you. “Just don’t make a mess.”

The Ghoul hadn’t replied. Which had been a surprise. He always seemed to have something to say. But there was none of that. Instead there was only the sound of more shuffling in the room before the bed finally shifted with his added weight. Pulling you back from the brink of sleep just enough, as he joined you among the tattered sheets.

Your bed was cramped. Meant for only a single soul, and yet that never seemed to bother him as he fit himself in how he liked. It didn’t take very long for you to feel the press of his cool body against yours. An arm finding itself around your waist, as lips sought out your neck and trailed over your skin.

“Sleeping.” You said. Quiet. But still you shifted. Legs parting ever so slightly. An invitation you knew he wouldn’t refuse.

You allowed him to take what he wanted—his true reason for being here—and he did so greedily. Without any ounce of hesitation, bare fingers smoothing down and slipping past the waistband of your pants into their front. Immediately finding the prize he wanted. Your breath hitching as they ghosted over your clit. Teasing.

“Then sleep.” Lips caressed your ear. His breath hot on your skin. Rough hands had molded you into his liking. Feeling yourself growing wet beneath his fingers all too quickly, as two of them slipped into your heat at first chance. “Don’t bother me, none.”

Desire bloomed inside you. Arousal coiling tight. He left marks where he could. Harsh kisses that had teeth grazing your skin. Fingers moving inside of you to pull any sound from your lips that he could. Touching you in ways that had you burning, as if you would be engulfed in flames at any second. Toying with your body and purposely bringing you so close to the edge without ever actually bothering to send you over.

“Stop teasing.” You had shifted again. Trying to provide more space for his devilish hands. Moving yourself against him to seek the feeling you so desired—that last bit of pleasure that he denied you so easily, and would continue to do so.

“I thought you were sleeping.” His words had a teasing tone to their depths, as he nipped at your skin. Pressing himself closer. Grinding. His own arousal hard against your hip. Just as worked up as you were it seemed. But somehow still not nearly as desperate.

“Was trying to.” You sighed out a moan. Leaning impossibly close into him. Hand gripping at his wrist tight as he worked you. Letting his touch consume your very being. “Hard to sleep with someone messing around in my pants.”

The Ghoul chuckled. “Well let’s fix that then.”

And suddenly his hands were slipping away.

You felt your eyes open at the loss of him. Hadn’t even realized they were still closed until that moment. You had gone to protest. Reaching out in the darkness to try and stop him from leaving. But he hadn’t gone far. He had moved you to lay fully onto your back before you could really react. Your pants and underwear removed by him in an instant. Lost to the dark depth of your room's floor. Not to be seen again until morning light.

The Ghoul loomed over you. Eyes amused, and hands gripping your thighs. He spreads your legs out for himself wide. Exposing your arosural bare before his gaze into the open room. Fitting himself comfortably in between. Almost like there was nowhere else he belonged in the world. Ready to devour you whole.

And what was worse is that you’d gladly let him do so too.

“Fucking filthy thing you are.” He had whistled as he looked down at the debauched display he had made of you already. Fingers moving below to run along your dripping lips. Sending another shiver of pleasure up your spine. “You’re soaking and yet I’ve barely done a thing.”

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit beneath him. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his own clothes, save for the jacket and gloves he must have tossed somewhere in your room. He never really did remove his clothes when fucked you. Couldn’t remember anytime you had even seen him without a shirt.

At first you thought he had been shy over his predicament. He wouldn’t have been the first ghoul you met to have struggled with the change after all. But that had been a foolish thought, because Cooper Howard wasn’t ever shy. It was just another thing he couldn’t be bothered with.

It wasn’t worth it to him to remove, simply put. Probably even still had his boots on at the moment. Trucking sand and only god knows what into your bed. You’d usually lecture him for it. But like with many things tonight, he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Before you knew it he had leaned down to put his mouth on you. Sucking at your clit. Lips and tongue working you in all the right places. Fingers gripping your thighs to keep you open for him. Devouring you whole, almost like he had been starved for days.

It didn’t take much of this for you to be brought to that edge. It had been so long since you last saw him—last had him—and his skillful tongue had your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your one hand fisting the sheets below while the other reached for his scarred head. Pulling him in impossibly close. Trying to keep him there. But true to his nature just as you felt those sparks begin to fly he stopped. Lips leaving you and letting your pleasure fall. Hot breath only fanning over your soaked folds.

He did this often. Riled you up to the point of breaking. Allowing your pleasure to grow high before sending it crashing down again suddenly. Denying that bliss you always found yourself so desperate for when with him.

Most nights you were brought to tears by it. Begging him to let you have that sweet release. Frustration with his teasing at its peak. Tonight you did not beg or plead though, not yet at least, instead you sat up to lean onto your elbows. Insult for him at the tip of your tongue, ready to lecture him for all he was worth, but any complaint you had quickly died in your throat.

The Ghoul had bit your thigh. Hard. Whether to silence you, or just because he wanted to, you didn’t know. You just gasped. Trying to pull away, though his hands remained firm. Fingers digging into your skin almost too harshly and holding you in place. Only finally pulling back just enough to swipe his tongue over the mark he left.

You had winced from the pain, the mark aching, but despite it your arousal only seemed to course through you still. Stronger even. “That was just mean.”

“You like when I’m mean.” He smirked as he sat up again to overlook you. Your blood still staining his lips. “Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping. Remember?”

“Yeah and who’s fault is it that I’m not?”

“No idea what you mean sweetheart.” The Ghoul had let go of your legs then. Leaning back onto his knees to free himself. Belt unbuckling to pull out his aching cock. Squeezing himself briefly before guiding it to your drenched hole. Teasing at your folds. “Just here enjoying what was given to me after all.”

It was quick the way he entered. No ceremony or grace. No time to say another single word between you two. Barely gave time for you to gasp again. Sending a shock through your system. He didn’t wait. Thrusts downright filthy as he took you all for himself. Both of your moans and heated breaths filling the room. The air suddenly feeling suffocating and hot.

Your hands had gripped at his forearms, hoping to ground yourself and failing miserably, all while his own fingers dug into your hips. You tried to meet his own cruel thrusts, but the rhythm he had set was unrelenting. Pleasure all too consuming. He was right. You liked when he was mean. Liked how rough he was—enjoying how he just took and took from you. He filled you in ways that you knew ruined you for anyone else. And yet still you loved it all so very much.

You were getting close again. Could feel your peak just at the horizon. Waiting to burst. You moved your hand. Fingers desperate to finally bring yourself that last bit of pleasure to send you over the edge that you’ve desired all night. The one he’s been denying you all evening. But of course he notices immediately. Knocking your hand away before you get any chance.

“Not yet.”

You all but whine at his words. Almost pathetically so. Tears finally prickling at the corner of your eyes from being denied by him once again. “Cooper.”

“You know the rules.” He thrusts a little more roughly as if to punish you. A warning. “You take what I give you.”

“Please.”

“Look at you, the mess you are.” He groans out at your begging. Eyes burning hot with desire. Thrusts still unwavering. “You’d let me do whatever I want to you if it meant I fucked you, wouldn’t you?”

He had chuckled as you could only seem to nod. Clinging to him. Any kind of words from your lips caught between gasps and moans. You were so overwhelmed. The air was too hot. Everything felt too much but too little at the same time. And it was all because of him. The Ghoul who seemed all too good at taking you apart piece by piece. The mess you were was his fault, and he knew it—reveled in it.

You could never seem to get enough of him, and he knew it too. He could give you everything or nothing, and you’d still thank him for each little bit of it. He was the same. Even if he would never admit it. He always needed more of you. Both of you were addicted to the other. Needed to feel him just like he needed to feel you. Like a chem neither of you could shake. Didn’t want to shake.

Cooper’s thrusts had begun to grow sloppy now. His breathing more ragged. Hands squeezing your hips so tightly you were sure to bruise by morning. Your head was swimming. Drowning in the pleasure and losing it in the feeling of him. Mind too far gone to think of anything else. A mere mess of moans and gasps, as tears streamed down your cheeks. So close to unraveling at the seams for him. All just for him.

When he reached his end he didn’t give you any kind of warning save for a low moaned fuck. Making sure to thrust into you deeply. As far as he could go. His cum filling you to the brim as he did. It was only then when his fingers found your clit again. Rubbing the nub in harsh brutal circles that finally sent you crashing over as well. Ripping your orgasm from your body like he was owed nothing less.

“There you are, take all of me.” He groaned out as you squeezed and clenched around him. Breathless. Eyes watching how you came undone. Making sure to take in every bit of you that he could as you lost it beneath him. “Come for me darlin’.”

Your nerves felt on edge as the pleasure wrecked through your system. Body shaking while you could only seem to cling to him tighter. Hands fisted into his shirt and your legs squeezing around his hips, trapping his form to yours all while riding out your orgasm.

It wouldn’t be until the high began to dwindle where your mind would begin to clear again. A gentle throb at your core. Your body relaxed in his arms, limbs growing heavy, and breath beginning to return. The night's air starting to feel cool against your heated skin.

He hadn’t pulled out yet. Just stayed inside with the mess he made, as you both came down from your pleasure. Your oversensitive walls still clinging to his softening cock despite how completely wrecked you felt. Eventually you had almost felt sticky laying there—covered in your own sweat and grim. You tried to move away. Trying to free yourself from his grasp, but the hand he still had on your hip stopped you. Squeezing gently.

“Cooper-” You had begun to question him, eyes fluttering open and looking to Ghoul who still hovered above, but found yourself unable to finish when you finally met his gaze. Breath and words caught in your throat all over again.

Intense. Soft. There was a strange feeling that swarmed there in his eyes. Something you weren’t quite used to seeing from him. Something you just couldn’t place. It surprised you when he leaned in. Made your heart flutter—stomach flip—as his lips found yours.

The Ghoul rarely kissed you, and when he did it was rough. All teeth and bite, just like everything else about him, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. There was an odd softness to it. So gentle, and unlike anything you had ever shared with him before, but it was good all the same. Left your heart feeling like it was going to fall out of your chest right then and there.

It had all been fleeting though. That fluttering feeling. That sweet kiss. Lips pressed to yours only for a moment before they were gone again. Like it had never happened in the first place. Just another piece of memories from him to add to your imagination. Never to be addressed.

There wasn’t a word spoken between you as he finally pulled out from your sensitive walls. The touch of his body—his hands—leaving you, as he moved to settle at your side again. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t help lull your head over to gaze at him. Still stuck in that dreamlike feeling. Watching. Quiet as he leaned over the bedside to rummage around in his bag. Pulling out the vials you had seen him take so many times by now.

You still hadn’t a clue to what they were really. Knew it kept him from going feral, but beyond that you knew nothing. Which is how he liked things typically. He never told you too much. That’s just what it was always like between you two. You hadn’t even known his name till quite recently.

It was during one of the last few times he had visited, if you recalled. Between moans and bated breaths. Pleasure so close to reaching its peak when he first told it. Cooper. You still remember how desperate he sounded. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone from the Ghoul you were beginning to know so well. Name’s Cooper darlin’. And you’d never forget the way he practically crumbled to pieces as you said the name back. Soul exposed to you in ways you never thought possible with him.

Honestly, you didn’t even think he had a soul until that moment.

The Ghoul hadn’t been back for months after that night. For reasons you could only guess at. There was a point where you didn’t think he’d ever be back to seek you out again. But of course he was always full of surprises. Almost half a year passed until you saw him again at your doorstep. Acting as if nothing had happened since last, like he hadn’t been gone far longer then he ever had before. Familiar bite and taunting words greeting you fondly. All back to his normal self—or what was normal of him to you at least.

“Cooper?”

He inhales the chem. Doesn’t pay you any mind in the slightest. Which is fine. Doesn’t stop yourself from shifting closer to him. Allowing for one of your hands to trail up his chest. You feel him pausing briefly at your touch, and your eyes meet his as he glances your way. He’s unreadable as he gazes at you, hazel eyes holding yours for a mere second, before they’re focusing back to his life saving vials.

He doesn’t go to stop you though, so you take the chance to tuck yourself into his side. Head resting on his chest. Your eyes feeling heavy once more as you do. But still you don’t sleep yet. Not when you know how little time you have left with the Ghoul. So instead your fingers draw shapes over him, and play with the button of his shirt he still never bothered to remove.

“Thought I told you to fuckin’ sleep.” His voice brings you away from your thoughts, as he finishes up with his chem. Sounding almost annoyed, probably was, he’s not one for showing much bouts of affection after all. Doesn’t even really like when you’re clingy either. But somehow that still doesn’t stop his free arm winding itself around your waist. Holding you close.

“Cooper…”

“Sleep.” The Ghoul’s voice had been quiet but firm. He had pulled his hat from the bedpost to wear again, tugging it to rest over his closing eyes. “Some of us got shit to do in the morning.”

You didn’t bother to point out how he had been the one disturbing you up till this moment. There was no point in arguing with him though. He wouldn’t listen—a stubborn bastard through and through.

Not that you could find a good reason to do so anyway. Especially not with how your eyes kept trying to flutter shut, or how comforting it felt laying there in his arms. Listening to his breathing. His very subtle heartbeat somehow loud to your ears.

When sleep finally took you it would be peaceful for once. Something about knowing the Ghoul was there made you feel calm. Even though you knew that it should have been the opposite. He was deadly. Could kill you in a second. But somehow that hadn’t bothered you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least. Instead it made you feel at ease.

Safe.

The sun would be barely rising as you woke to the early light. Gentle rays illuminating your small room in a warm orange glow. You had stretched, yawning, before naturally going to feel for the Ghoul that had invaded your home last night. His spot had been empty, of course, long grown cold now that he didn’t occupy its space.

He never stayed for long. Any night he spent with you he was always gone before you ever had the chance of waking. It’s just how he was. How things were meant to be between you two. You had understood since the very beginning, all those years ago when first taking him into your bed.

And yet still your fingers ran over the spot. An ache settling in your heart. You knew there was no reason to be sentimental. There was no reason to miss something that wasn’t truly yours. But there was a part of you that did. A piece of you that wanted more than this—wanted what you couldn’t truly have for yourself.

The Ghoul, Cooper Howrad. You wanted him. More than just for sex. His heart, his soul. You wanted it all. Every piece of him. Craved it even. More than you ever desired something in your entire life. That thought of being his, and him being yours rattling around in that silly little heart of yours.

He’d never allow it.

Sighing, you pulled your hand away from his spot and sat up. Wincing. You had almost forgotten about it. The bite mark he left on your thigh still painful. Carefully you looked it over. He hadn’t taken a chunk out of you. Thankfully. Just left you looking like some sort of chew toy like he usually did.

It wasn’t worth a stimpak. Not like you’d ever consider using one anyway for such a minor injury. It would be a waste otherwise, and being wasteful out here meant death even on a good day.

Sometimes you wondered if that was why he marked you up so much. As if he knew you wouldn’t bother to heal them so quickly. You wondered if he enjoyed knowing that your body carried signs of him for days. Bites and bruises like some sort of possessive claim. Every mark from him a reminder of just who exactly had left them there in the first place.

You doubted it all the same though, he probably just thought it was fun to bite and mark you up. Probably did it to everyone he spent the night with. You were sure there were others. Even if he’s never said so, you weren’t dumb enough to think otherwise, as sad as it made you to think about sometimes.

Leaving bed, your morning would end up being the same as any other. You’d get yourself ready, tidy up the room, and eat what little food you had. After you’d work the day away. Maybe even head into town for a little bit before heading back home. The simple mundane routine so natural to you now that it went about like clockwork. Doing what you needed to survive before the sun would fall again. The moon taking its place easily in a sky painted by shining stars.

And as you’d lay in bed once more. You’d look out to the wasteland through those cracks in the boarded window. Wondering if he’d show, eyes searching for any kind of sign of him. Waiting—hoping—for the Ghoul to arrive again.

But of course, he wouldn’t.

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #fallout #reader insert #the ghoul #cooper howard #my fics #fallout show #fallout tv series #fallout fanfic

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formulawolff · 6 months ago

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vi. morning confessional - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.5k

warnings: i typed this entire chapter on my phone while i was at work, so if there are any spelling errors, oopsies! cursing, age gaps, power imbalances, yearning, tons of yearning, oral (f! receiving), mentions of sex, teasing, slight praise kink, slight size kink, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, causing you to stir. scrunching your nose, a yawn takes hold. at the action, his arms instinctively pull you in closer, smothering your face in his chest.

“good morning.”

“good morning beautiful girl,” his voice is thick with sleep, and oh so sexy, “how did you sleep?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“better than usual.”

“me too,” soft lips connect with your temple, “what time is it?”

yawning once more, you roll over, plucking your phone off the nightstand.

“8:38 a.m.”

“shit.”

“somewhere to be?”

“yes,” the team principal groans, rubbing his eyes, “unfortunately i am running very late for it. i’ll just let my assistant know i can’t make it.”

“oops,” you shrug, collapsing back into his arms, “why can’t you just stay every night?”

“you know why, schatzi,” he murmurs, squeezing you, “this is going to be a long two weeks.”

“awww,” you tease, ruffling his hair, “is someone going to miss me?”

“you have no idea.”

“we’ll be in japan. that will surely be exciting,” you begin to run your hand through his hair, melting as his lashes flutter.

“and you know what comes after japan.”

“miami,” you suck in a breath, “that still gives me some time to consider everything.”

“just don’t overthink it,” one eye opens, “if you overdo it, you’ll start to reconsider every little thing.”

“i know,” you exhale, “it’s just overwhelming. i don’t like disappointing people either.”

“oh i know,” toto leans in, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “you tend to put on this facade that you’re selfish, doing things only for your gain. however, i have learned that deep down, you’re a huge people pleaser. that’s why you’ve been dragging your feet in giving me your answer. you don’t want hurt james. you don’t want to disappoint the team. most of all, you don’t want to face the backlash that will follow.”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up in your eyes. they threaten to spill over, and his brows furrow, “oh schatzi, i didn’t mean to hurt your—“

“no,” you sniffle, “i just hate that you’re right.”

“you don’t have to spend your life pleasing others, you know,” his arms engulf you in an embrace, rubbing circles on your back as you weep into his chest, “you’re allowed to make decisions for yourself. you need to do what you feel is best.”

“but there’s just one thing that i can’t shake,” the words are barely coherent, but he hears them anyway.

“and that is?” he inquires, kneading into your shoulder blades.

“i want to be with you at mercedes. i’m just scared that if something happens between us, i’ll regret my decision.”

“us?”

your eyes snap open, panic settling in, “i-i, um, i — i didn’t mean anything by that, i just—“

“you want an us?” fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

“i-i mean,” your voice falters, “isn’t it inevitably going to happen if we keep seeing one another? one of us is going to develop feelings and we’re going to—“

lips crash into yours, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs. it’s a passionate kiss, needy and brimmed with hunger. fingers tangle in your hair, tugging at the roots as you whimper, his tongue licking along your lower lip. he sucks on it, the hand on your back delving lower and lower, gripping the curve of your ass.

a noise rumbles in the base of this throat as you suck on his tongue, the kisses growing sloppier and messier by the second. the noise is guttural, almost like a growl.

he pulls away momentarily, panting slightly, “who is to say that the feelings aren’t already there?”

“toto you don’t—“

“i do,” shifting his weight, he pins you to the bed, “like i said, i didn’t have a crush. i can’t stop thinking about you. every single time i think about racing, or my drivers, or even mercedes in general, my thoughts wander to you.”

as he takes you in, you can’t help but gaze into his eyes, your hand reaching out. fingers brush his cheek tenderly, tracing the lines that scoured his face. his lashes flutter at your touch, his chest heaving as your fingertips wander, memorizing every minuscule detail.

your fingertips land on his lips, “i just need to know one thing.”

“what is it, love?”

“this offer, signing me as a driver to mercedes. is it business or is it personal?” preparing for the worst, you feel yourself instinctively shy away.

yet, he isn’t fazed, maintaining eye contact, “do you want my honest answer?”

“of course i do.”

“personal. completely personal,” there’s a glint in his mocha depths, an emotion you couldn’t quite read.

“ever since i saw that photo of you, signing that contract with williams, i knew i wouldn’t be able to resist you. i tried, i really tried to maintain my distance. to stay away. but i can’t. there’s something about you that draws me in. i don’t quite know what, but i know that i need you by my side. at mercedes, where i can make you a world champion. my world champion. i would make my golden girl a world champion.”

“toto,” you begin, but he continues, pressing a finger to your mouth.

“yes, it would be good for mercedes to sign on a driver with your talent. our reputation would benefit. you have the qualities of a mercedes driver. but this isn’t about business. this is personal. it always has been. it always will be.”

“i-i,” you stutter, the temperature of the room elevated as toto’s mouth inches closer and closer to yours, “i don’t know—“

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” his voice is low and thready, consumed with desire, “i know it’s a lot. there’s a lot to consider and a lot at stake. but for now, just focus on me. can you do that for me baby?”

nodding meekly, anticipation takes a hold as he lowers his head, mouth connecting with your heated skin. the kisses travel further and further down, his hands finding yours, intertwining your fingers together.

“so beautiful,” he whispers, “so, so, so breathtaking.”

“so are you—“

a moan fills the space as his mouth envelops your clit through your panties. he groans at your reaction, knuckles turning white as you squirm, gripping your hands tightly.

“take them off, please.”

“so you do beg,” he taunts, his breath hot as it fans against your inner thighs, “what do you need again, schatzi?”

“i need you,” you whimper, dripping with desire, “i need you, toto wolff.”

“i’ll take care of you baby,” his pupils are dilated, blush tinging his cheeks, “just relax, and let me take care of you.”

at the sight of you beneath him, aching for his touch, toto nearly unravels.

was he dreaming? or was this heaven?

god, you were so fucking beautiful like this. all needy and desperate. between your thighs, he couldn’t help but notice the wet spot pooling in your panties. goosebumps riddled your arms and legs, yet your skin was so soft and warm.

you were practically inviting him in.

and how could he resist?

“is this okay?” the team principal tugs on the hem of your panties.

“yes,” the corners of his lips curl into a smirk at your quick response, “please, toto.”

dragging the fabric down your legs, he relishes how they glow in the morning light.

every part of you was so beautiful. every. single. part.

“open your legs,” strong hands grasp your thighs, the command sending a shiver down your spine, “i need to see that perfect pussy.”

you can’t help but obey, shielding your face instinctively as he situates himself, mouth merely centimeters from your drenched pussy.

if your body was an altar, toto was prepared to worship, savoring and praising every inch of you until there was nothing left.

“don’t hide,” he tuts, “i want you to watch.”

“but—“

a hand, your hand, covers your mouth as his tongue delves between your folds, your back arching. fingertips dig into your hips, holding you in place.

toto was a starving man. and fuck, did you taste so fucking good.

he couldn’t get enough, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue explores every inch of you. his tongue applies pressure to your clit as he sucks lightly, swirling in circles as you buck your hips.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

toto didn’t have to ask if you were close. he could sense it, the way your muscles were beginning to tense up. the way your hips rocked back and forth, practically riding his tongue. the way your voice was growing louder and louder, yearning for more and more.

already this close and he had barely even started?

fuck, was he going to have fun with you.

“toto,” there it was again, his name from your lips, “toto, i’m going to — you’re going to make me cum.”

“you deserve it,” he pulls away, mouth and chin glistening, “you deserve it baby. cum for me. be a good girl and cum for me.”

the words coax you to the edge, and you feel a finger wedge its way into your tight hole, your walls stretch, adjusting to the size of his finger. just as you get used to one, he shoves another inside, pumping them in and out, curling once they’re inside.

the euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave as his mouth plants kisses over your clit, practically making out with your pussy. you feel your walls close in, the pleasure wound up tightly in your lower abdomen.

“toto,” you’re almost breathless, “i-i’m going to cum.”

moans flood toto’s ears as you orgasm, your thighs squeezing against his ears. your muscles twitch and shudder, juices dribbling down his chin.

pressing one last kiss to your pussy, he catches his breath, wiping his chin.

before you know it, two fingers are pressed against your lips, “taste yourself.”

opening wide, your tongue dances along the digits, licking them clean. toto watches in awe, a fiery hunger burning within.

it took every fiber of his being not to just spread you open again, filling you up, claiming you.

claiming what was rightfully his.

“oh my god,” you exhale, scrambling to muster a single coherent thought, “that was—“

“you’ll get more.”

your back meets with the mattress once again, hands on your head, “holy shit.”

“never had a man make you cum like that before?” you want to slap the smug smirk off his face.

but you stop yourself, feeling a frown form as he plucks his clothes off of the floor, shoving his legs into his slacks.

“leaving so soon?”

“i have to go,” relief ripples from your head to your toes as you sense his disappointment. he was just as upset to go, “i want to stay baby, but i have about sixty-two missed calls and seventy texts. they’re wondering where i am and i need to get going.”

“that’s all right,” reaching for own phone, you wonder if you were in a similar predicament.

you couldn’t quite remember, but you were sure you had missed a few meetings. one of them was more than likely with the press. one was probably a team meeting before the next destination.

“what’s going to be your excuse?”

toto pauses momentarily, leaning over to give you a swift peck, “the answer is simple. they won’t get one. they don’t need to know where i was.”

“someone’s grumpy,” you giggle as you notice the prominent frown.

“yeah i am.”

“and why’s that?” you arch a brow.

“because i want to fuck the shit out of you,” the casual delivery has you reeling, your heart fluttering as he shoves his arms into his dress shirt.

“i want to watch you cum again and again and again. but i can’t. i have to go about my day as if i didn’t just taste pure ambrosia on my tongue. i have to sit there and answer phone calls, emails, my team, and act like nothing ever happened.”

“is it hard for you?”

“of course it’s hard,” toto runs a hand through his hair, and you pick out the tightness of his jaw as he speaks, “i want to tell someone. i want to tell someone how the most beautiful woman in the world has me wrapped around her finger. how i’m putty in her hands. but i can’t.”

“toto, i—“

“i hate to interrupt you,” he crosses over to the bed once again, scooping you up in his embrace, “but i really have to go. i’ll text you, okay? maybe we can rendezvous at some point in these next few weeks. i’ll fly you out. you wouldn’t have to pay a single penny.”

“okay,” you nod, inhaling his scent one last time, attempting to memorize the way his arms feel around your frame. it was far too quick, toto pulling away, tousling your hair.

“be a good girl for me. i’ll see you soon.”

“i’ll see you soon, toto.”

and just like that, he was gone.

biting your lip, you curl up on the mattress, throwing the comforter over your body.

you shouldn’t cry. not over this.

but why did you feel that urge? why was it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on anything other than the team principal?

yeah, you had a crush on him. that was years ago, when you were a teenager. that was innocent, a young girl swooning over a man nearly three times her age.

now, that crush was developing into something much more. something far more complex that you could have ever imagined.

you were falling head over heels for toto wolff, whether you liked it or not.

and you couldn’t fight it, no matter how hard you tried to push those feelings away. you had tried to seal them away in a box, throwing out the key.

somehow toto had found that damn key.

he was the key, really.

and who knew what would happen if you opened the lid to that box.

however, there were far more pressing matters.

picking up your phone, you scroll through your messages, notifications, and emails.

there was nothing too crazy you missed, just a quick debrief before you all left for home for the next week or so.

although, one particular text caught your eye.

it was james, sent about fifteen minutes ago.

good morning, american girl! i’m not sure if you’re aware, but the fia has made their decision concerning your tussle with george. it’s not good, but it’s not bad either. i figured you were probably not feeling up to the team meeting since you got pretty banged up from the crash. get some rest, then give me a call when you can.

also, is there a reason why toto wolff approached me yesterday? he was asking about your contract. do you have any idea what that was about?

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @toldyouitwasamelodrama @nebarious @whoisss @kravitzwhore @prettiest-at-the-party @persona1lies @zoeyjadetice2010

let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

#f1 #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #f1 x female reader

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rizsu · 5 months ago

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ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤ◟ the infamous instagram live. . . ! ── gojo satoru ﹕ jujutsu kaisen.

﹙ rookie mistake ﹚ ⊹ being a new-gen actor had its perks. it's easy to gain a fanbase, gain recognition, and easy for your show to go viral. what's not easy, however, is privacy. someone's bound to expose..

love, ‘su › the comments are typed out like “@cuntcarti: heyyy” for authenticity bc i am not recreating a real ig live in smau format #lazy

“hey guys! what's up?” satoru's oddly close to the camera. his nose being the most prominent feature in everyone's screen.

he's been on tour for jujutsu kaisen's new movie and it's been far too hectic. if it weren't for the luxurious hotel's service, he would've died in between schedule. the hours the crew were allowed to slumber slowly decreased: from eight to five to three to twenty-five minutes — just unnecessarily busy.

aside from experiencing the dark side to being an actor, he enjoys the fame. the attention that comes with it is nothing compared to the lightheaded feelings he feels everytime it's 8pm. being a crazed attention seeker is the main reason why he's live when he really, really should be asleep.

@satonuts: tilt the phone down lets see whats there

@daily-jjk: back up a little..

@nanamiroleplay: how's it been?

@tojiggle: drop the pants

“god forbid a man gets close to his screen,” he jokingly grumbles, shifting his position to laying down on his pillow.

now the view's better: his arm's stretched upwards to allow half of his upper body to be in frame. of course, he's shirtless. what's an attention seeker without being half naked? nothing! there's a small-sized silver chain around his neck; dare the fandom admit, it adds a special flavour... perhaps this shall be their new lockscreen.

@daily-jjk: my fault king

@itasaki: i love you <3 i told my father about us <3

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@crazygetofan: is geto around?

reading the last comment, satoru does the lick -lips-and-bite-lower-lip combination.

“yeah, but he's in the shower—” he pauses and furrows his eyebrows, “no, i'm not gonna show you butt-naked suguru.”

@crazygetofan: worth a shot bye

@stsgshipper25: its bc he's hiding his bf!!

@fushigurosbitch: @stsgshipper25 wym im right here ??

@tojiggle: drop the pants

he doesn't respond to any comments, nor does he make any stupid comment himself. he's silently admiring himself while going through a bunch of saved filters. while satoru was too immersed in loving himself, he failed to notice suguru entering the room.

it's a win-lose situation that'll occur here. the win is obviously suguru making his entry which would mean that he'd join in satoru's live. the lose here is that he has a big mouth. suguru's mouth talks before his mind analyzes the outcome of what he'll say.

suguru walks over to the space in between his bed and satoru's, fiddling with the items on the bedside table until his hands fall on satoru's wallet. like a moth to a flame, he mindlessly opens it, counting the bills and how much it totals up to.

“damn, satoru, you only have ninety dollars?”

“don't out me like that, bro,” a sigh leaves satoru, “there's a reason i have a card.”

“alright bro.”

@crazygetofan: show me my man

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u broke

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@satonuts: @tojiggle QUIT IT

“anyway guys,” satoru stands up, “let's have a mukbang.”

walking towards the television stand, satoru slams his hand on the chips, gripping it like it's the last time he'll ever have a meal. once he acquired his meal, he goes back to the bed, propping the phone with stacked pillows so he's in frame when he sits.

suguru can be seen in the background, pacing around the room in a white robe that's loosely tied. this was more than enough for the geto suguru fans that joined satoru's live for that purpose.

“wait bro,” suguru calls out to satoru but doesn't turn to him. he's occupied with rubbing moisturiser into his cheeks vigorously.

satoru hums, acknowledging his roomate. he, too, doesn't look at suguru.

“did you get the thing for (y/n)? you've been talking about that all day.”

satoru's silent. this time he's not falling in love with himself. the chip that's halfway into his mouth falls. can he consider this to be doxxing? no way suguru just did him like that.

“...oh come on, bro.” his shoulders drop. a clear indication of disappointment.

as suguru's still has his back turned to satoru, he's unaware of his expression and thinks that his comment was meant for him to shut up about the gift/souvenir. after all, suguru has been teasing satoru about it.

“seriously? you still haven't figured out what to get your girlfriend? lame ass.”

“can you say it any louder?!”

“YOUR GIRL— what the fuck?”

satoru forces him silent by throwing the air conditioner's remote at him. it worked, kind of. if only it had an effect on his rapidly beating heart. he's now anxious and a tad bit afraid to look at the comments.

slowly, his eyes glance at the comments. they sure are coming in fast!

@itasaki: killing myself <3

@fuckgojo_wasdailyjjk: cant have shit on earth

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u gonna get jumped

@tojiggle: don't drop the pants

@miadollypie: check out twitter link in bio for spicy stuff

@chosoballs: couldnt be my man!

@kystoru: @chosoballs thats why yo bitch dying next season

@chosoballs: ?

@fwkuna: love seeing ppl i hate miserable

@fushigurosbitch: they gonna break up next two weeks

@satonuts: guys rmbr we do not know satoru irl, be nice

@fwkuna: @satonuts ykdw ur crying on the inside

@satonuts: @fwkuna DIE

the comments are overflowing in such a speed that it overwhelms even satoru. he swallows hard, switching his eyes to suguru.

suguru's back to busying himself with his skincare routine, unaware of the damages he's done.

‘fuck,’ he curses in his mind, nervously laughing before he speaks up.

“oh boy, would you look at the time!” he says ever-so enthusiastically. “i'll see you guys later, sleep well, ‘kay?”

“huh? why'd you end it?” the damager dealer questions, turning around to finally face satoru with a charcoal facemask on. it's good for whiteheads!

“ask one more fucking questions and i'm killing us both.”

the aggressive comments makes suguru recoil. he didn't expect that — he's also confident that he did nothing of the sort to result in such violence.

“damn, did she block you or something? i get it, i get it. i'd be mad too.” he nods, showing satoru that he understands and feels for his friend.

satoru's face twists in annoyance. the man gifts suguru a middle finger before he moves the chips onto the bedside table.

he's tired now. not in the sleepy way, though. in the ‘what am i gonna do now’ way. nothing good comes up in mind to lessen the damage on the internet, so he falls back on the bed.

with his phone face down and an arm over his eyes, he tries his best to sleep.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #was scrolling kpop twt n lwk nctzens would be jjkfans if they were kpop #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x fem!reader

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wroteclassicaly · 6 months ago

Text

18+

A/N: After hours filth. Your boyfriend catching you getting off.

~*~

You should’ve known that your idea would’ve gotten you into this predicament. Caught red handed, legs wide open and knees cool from tile flooring, thighs aching with twisted blood rush. The silicone is pressed deep inside, your hands still resting on your nipples - just how he found you. It’s not hard to decipher what’s going on when he blinks the sleep from his eyes, caramel tresses in disarray, chain nestled in his overgrown chest hair, bare feet, and a pair of his black briefs, ones not concealing a damn thing, especially now.

“What’s this?” He questions, that honey heating up, rasp still clinging to his tongue.

You know he’d never shame you or control your pleasure, despite you being a couple. It’s a playful curiosity, yet one that borders on jealousy. Steve Harrington, with twitch of his jaw that makes that mole dance, those lips look more pronounced as he licks across them, tongue lolling out so far that it reaches his stubble bitten skin — is jealous of your dildo.

“My toy.” Is your soft response.

He shifts in the doorway, his length growing beneath the fabric, pressing uncomfortably. Bare feet pad on the floors until he’s kneeling in front of you, tilting his head to see you spread around it. And god, when he looks at you, nostrils inhaling, pupils blown so wide that remaining sleep curls away like wafting smoke, a thin amber ring surrounding an enriching black ink. You find yourself holding your breath as he leans in, nose nudging yours, breath hot on your mouth. His hand raises to cradle your cheek, thumb pad brushing ever-so-lightly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I…” you accidentally move on the toy and let out a gasp into him.

He pretends to mock, mouth finding that space behind your ear that makes your hands drop from your chest and reach for his shoulders, digging in.

“You, what? Hmm, honey?”

“You’ve been working, so I just didn’t want to take your sleep away from you, baby. That’s all.” It’s the truth, one that has Steve softening, his gaze filtering back to your own.

“You could’ve used your smaller toys, or your vibrator. I wouldn’t have mind if you stayed in bed with me while you played with yourself, sweetheart.”

Your legs tighten around the length, a whine escaping your throat. An uncomfortable echo. You have to move. You know what will ultimately satisfy you. He knows it too.

“Or is it that you just had to have something inside of you?”

“Steve…” you dig your nails into his shoulder blades and he takes the opportunity to move his hands, letting them slink around your lower back, before locking in tightly, pulling you up against his chest, your naked breasts dragging through the soft curls, his necklace draped across your collarbones.

Both of you so warm, panting, rocking into one another.

“Judging by the size, someone missed my cock, didn’t she?”

“I told you I didn’t want to wake you, please —“

“Shh, honey.” He presses a finger to your lips, his massive palm digging into your lower back, the other on your waist, and he’s lifting you a few inches off the toy, pushing you back down seconds later, his mouth piece finding your earlobe, letting you in on a secret. “Your pussy woke me up. So fucking wet that I could hear you in here.”

Your jaw drops open. “You know I wanted you, I just couldn’t wait.”

A nod that shakes strands across his forehead. He’s perfect as he rises above you, cheeks tinted pink, offering his hands to you, easing you off the cock as you stand fully.

“Jesus Christ, honey. Look between your legs, won’t even have to prep you.”

Embarrassingly, you do look down and catch a strand of creamy arousal drip from your cunt. But Steve loves it, hands shoving into the elastic of his boxers. You’re practically drooling, taste buds ready, saliva pooling across your tongue, settling in the corners of your mouth.

“How do you want me?” You’re immediately blurting.

Steve smirks that signature, shit eating from, strutting the two steps forward, pushing his hand across your cheek, some fingers splayed down over your neck. He taps several times, contemplating.

“I wanna see your face when I give you what you want, and I want to be the one that gives it to you until you’re asleep, for the rest of the night. Do you get it, honey? That okay with you? Just let me take care of you.”

You’re letting him direct you into laying back on the bed, legs wide open, chest exerted in excitement as you watch him peel down his boxers, sticky with desire, collecting over the head of his thick shaft. Absolutely beautiful. Red, dusted in beauty marks, that vein, all the way to those full balls surrounded by his bush. He is receptive to how your eyes light up, body shifting, face wrinkling in discomfort, the need to be taken, to have. He holds onto himself, watching you as he spreads that shine all over, working into his fist, his tongue collected at the side of his inner cheek, poking.

Both of you craving a little extra edge, he senses.

“You want this raw, honey? Just me inside of you, nothing else? Risking-every-damned thing.”

You incline your head at a rapid pace. “Make it happen, Steve.”

That’s all he needs to know.

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delulustateofmind · 2 months ago

Text

Stray

Yan!Gojo x Reader

WC: 5.4K (My longest fic!)

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con Kiss (singular one), Mentions of stalking, obsession, your typical yandere behaviors. Manipulation.

Based off of this blurb: HERE

*******

Looking back, this was probably the biggest mistake of your life. Picking up a stray. Your mother’s voice echoed in your mind: “Don’t feed them, or they’ll keep crawling back.” She wasn’t just talking about animals-her words applied to monsters too, though you hadn’t realized that yet.

It was a few months ago, on an unusually quiet Saturday, when you’d decided to do your laundry in the community room of your apartment complex. The air was thick with the faint scent of various detergents and the rhythmic thrum of the machines. The room was dimly lit, the sunlight from outside filtering in through small windows, casting long shadows on the tiled floor. You had expected to be alone, but instead there he was- a stranger standing in the middle of the room, looking every bit as out of place as a lost puppy.

Or maybe more like a misplaced god.

Tall, lean, and dressed in casual clothes that seemed haphazardly thrown together, he held a laundry basket so full it looked like it might burst at any moment. You hesitated as his attention turned toward you, the black lenses of his tinted glasses hiding his eyes, but not the way his lips quirked into an awkward, lopsided smile.

“Uh sorry- am I blocking the open machines?” His voice was soft, almost too smooth for someone who looked so out of sorts. He shifted his weight, holding the basket like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Here, it’s all yours.”

You blinked, glancing from his awkward stance to the machines, then back to him. “Don’t you need to use them?” you asked, your voice quiet, but curious, as your gaze dropped to the absurdly full basket he was clutching, where you caught sight of something unexpectedly cute- soft pink boxers peeking out from the pile, printed with tiny dango. Adorable.

The man let out a breath chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, his sheepish expression almost too genuine. “I’ll uh…I’ll just do it later,” he said, his voice lighter now, as if he was trying to downplay his obvious hesitation.

Your eyes drifted from his face to the empty table in front of him, noticing there was no detergent in sight.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Your tone coming out soft but teasing, knowing full well this beautiful man had no idea what he was doing.

He froze, just for a second. The easygoing charm faltered, replaced by something more real. A sigh escaped his lips, almost resigned, and the barest hint of pink dusted his cheeks. His head tilted slightly away from you, as if hidinging his embarrassment, before he mumbled, “yeah.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Cute.

So, you walked him through the steps, showing him how to use the last two remaining machines. You could’ve taken them for yourself, but instead, you let him have them. Maybe showing this man kindness was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. Because who knew a single act of generosity would lead to this—an almost instinctual bond forming between you from this one interaction.

The process was… well, difficult to say the least. The conversation played out in fits and starts, with more awkward pauses than smooth exchanges.

“Do you have 100 yen coins? The machines don’t take card,” you asked, your voice soft but practical, as you glanced up at him.

You noticed his smile falter for the briefest moment, as if the question caught him off guard. “No…” His reply was gentle, almost embarrassed, and his eyes widened slightly when you wordlessly handed him a few of your coins.

“Here, take them,” you said, pressing the cold coins into his hand. His fingers brushed yours, warm and hesitant. “There’s a coin machine in the lobby—make sure to use it next time.”

His response was silent, but telling. You caught the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks deepening, the warmth of your simple touch amplifying the effect. His smile, a little sheepish, stretched wider, as if this small kindness meant more to him than you could have known. He didn’t say anything else, simply nodding his head in quiet thanks, his expression soft, almost grateful.

It was hard to ignore the way his entire demeanor shifted—how something about him seemed lighter now, more attuned to you. Like your gesture had unlocked something inside him.

“I’m assuming you don’t have detergent either, do you?” you asked with a playful sigh, grabbing your own bottle before he could answer. “Use mine. I hope you don’t mind floral scents.”

You began pouring the sweet-scented soap into both machines, the fragrant aroma filling the room. You didn’t look up at him right away, too focused on the task at hand, but when you finally did, you found him watching you—not in a way that felt invasive, but with a quiet, contemplative gaze. His eyes, hidden behind his tinted glasses, seemed locked on you, like he was seeing something… special. Something only he could notice.

“No,” Satoru replied softly, his voice calm and almost reverent. “I don’t mind… at all.” There was something different in his tone—an almost affectionate undertone, like the scent would remind him of this exact moment, of you. His heart beat faster, though his outward appearance remained composed, as if trying to keep something at bay.

The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, and as it hit your face, you became haloed in light, your movements graceful in their simplicity. To him, it wasn’t just the detergent or the coins or the smile. It was you—the way you moved, the way you looked at him without judgment, the way your kindness seemed to come so naturally.

That’s what you were. Sunshine. A soft, warm light in a world that, for him, often felt cold and distant.

His chest tightened slightly, not in a suffocating way, but in a way that made him want to keep you in his orbit just a little longer. Maybe he didn’t know much about you—yet—but there was a pull, a gravity you had, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to resist it. Your small act of kindness had stuck with him, dug into his thoughts in a way he didn’t expect. Maybe it was the ease of it, how you didn’t even hesitate to help him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He found himself wanting more of that warmth, more of you.

“Next time, be better prepared,” you said lightly, your voice snapping him out of his thoughts. You offered him a small smile, playful but warm, as you closed the detergent bottle.

“Next time,” he repeated softly, savoring the way those words sounded—like a promise of more to come. His smile was gentle, almost too sweet for someone like him, but there was something else behind it too. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

After you both finished with the laundry, you were about to give him a polite wave and go your separate ways. But as you turned to head back, Satoru didn’t just leave. Instead, he fell into step beside you with a light, almost bouncy stride, like there was nowhere else he wanted to be. His grin hadn’t faded, but there was something sharper about it now, a little too wide, a little too excited.

“What floor?” he asked, stepping into the elevator with an easy, practiced grace, like this was all a game he knew the rules to. His eyes—what you could see of them behind his tinted glasses—were trained on you, a flicker of curiosity sparking within them.

“Three, please,” you replied, adjusting your basket of clothes in your arms, not quite prepared for the way his expression lit up at your words.

“Oh, you’re kidding.” His voice came out soft, but there was an unmistakable note of giddiness underneath, a sort of delighted surprise that felt a touch too enthusiastic. “That’s my floor too.” His smile widened, a little too much, and he tilted his head as if waiting for the next punchline to land. “I’m in 301.”

You blinked, taking a moment to process before offering a polite smile. “I’m 302. You just moved in next door?”

For a second, he froze—his grin faltered, then returned twice as strong. A low, almost breathless chuckle escaped him, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Glasses sliding down slightly to reveal his bright blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. “Seriously? You’re that close? Right next door?”

He leaned back against the elevator wall, letting the revelation sink in, his gaze never leaving your face. It felt like he was studying you, absorbing every little detail—your expression, the way you shifted the basket, the exact moment your surprise faded into a more neutral reaction. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his laundry basket, almost like he was containing his excitement.

“Well, isn’t that… something,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. The playful edge in his tone softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, more intent. “It’s almost like we were meant to run into each other today.”

His words hung in the air, the way he said them making your stomach flutter uneasily. He seemed more than pleased by the coincidence, and his smile—though outwardly harmless—felt like there was something deeper behind it, something intrigued and hooked.

The elevator doors opened, and he held the door for you, watching you with that same smile, now laced with quiet amusement. “After you, neighbor,” he said, his voice lighter, but still with that underlying edge of fascination.

You stepped out, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you down the hall. As you reached your respective doors, Satoru lingered, standing a little too close, his eyes tracing the outline of your door—302—like he was mentally noting it down, cataloging every detail.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” he teased, but the playful tone was almost too sweet, too easy. There was something in his gaze—sharp, calculating beneath the teasing exterior—that made it hard to shake the feeling that he was watching you in a way that was more than neighborly.

“Lucky us, huh?” he added, his voice dipping slightly, as though he was tasting the words.

You offered a small, polite laugh, trying to keep the conversation light. “Yeah… I guess so.”

He stood there for a beat longer than necessary, as though he was savoring the moment. His grin, still plastered on his face, now looked like a cat’s—playful, but predatory, like he had just stumbled onto something unexpected and wonderful. Something he didn’t plan on letting go of any time soon.

“See you soon, 302,” he said softly, before finally turning to his own door. But even as he disappeared into his apartment, you could still feel the lingering intensity of his presence.

Perhaps if you didn’t have such a need to help people, you wouldn’t have let him get too close.

But that’s what led to the next few weeks of constant, seemingly innocent requests from Satoru.

At first, it was small things. Harmless, right?

“Hey, did you accidentally get my package?” he asked, showing up at your door one morning with that same disarming grin. His glasses were perched on his nose, eyes sparkling with an almost childlike glint. You hadn’t, of course. You always kept an eye out for your own deliveries, but it was an easy mistake. The first time, anyway. It happened again a few days later. Then again. And each time, his grin seemed just a little brighter, as if this routine delighted him more than it should.

You began to wonder how much stuff he was ordering. Or if he was ordering anything at all.

Next came the plant.

“I’m out of town for the next few days,” he mentioned casually, leaning against your doorframe one evening. His posture was relaxed, but his presence was hard to ignore. The tinted glasses were gone this time, leaving you to face those brilliant blue eyes directly. They sparkled, drawing you in without effort. In his hands, he held the saddest little pot you’d ever seen—some limp, half-dead thing that looked like it needed a funeral rather than a caretaker. “Can you take care of this fella for me? Just water it a bit…dunno maybe talk to it? Plants like that, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the pitiful plant. “This thing’s already half-dead.”

His grin widened, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips. “Yeah, well, if anyone can bring it back, it’s you. Sunshine.” He winked, his tone playful, but his gaze held you for just a moment too long. His words felt like more than a compliment, like he was testing you, seeing just how far you’d go for him. Just how close would you let him get? And somehow, you found yourself agreeing, even though you knew it was a lost cause.

Then came the bento boxes.

“Oh!” he exclaimed one morning, catching you just as you were heading out for work. His eyes landed on the small lunchbox in your hand, wrapped neatly in a blue cloth with a white bunny pattern. “You make your own bento boxes? That’s adorable.” His grin was almost teasing, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. “Can you make one for me, too?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “I… what?”

“I’ll pay for the groceries,” he added quickly, as if that would fix the oddness of the request. “Actually, here—take my card.” Without hesitation, he pulled out his wallet and pressed a black card into your hand. His fingers brushed yours, lingering just a little too long, and his eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Buy whatever you need. Go crazy.”

You stared at the card, unsure of what to say. “Gojo-sama, I really can’t—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly, his smile never faltering. “No need for the formalities.”

You hesitated, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. You couldn’t just call him by his first name, right? You couldn’t just make lunch for him like you were… some kind of housewife, could you?

“Oh, sure you can!” His energy was relentless, sweeping over your hesitation like it didn’t exist. “Come on, it’s no big deal. You’re already making one for yourself, right? What’s one more?”

His voice was as light as always, the teasing playful, but underneath it was something that made you uneasy. He had inserted himself into your life so effortlessly, so quickly, that you barely had time to question it. Each favor seemed so small, so trivial—until they weren’t. Each one drew him closer, inch by inch, as if he was weaving himself into the fabric of your routine.

And the worst part? He made it all seem so casual, like he was just being a friendly neighbor. You could almost convince yourself that’s all it was. Almost.

So, bento boxes became part of your daily routine—unless, of course, Satoru told you he’d be out of town. Wouldn’t want good food to go to waste, right? You always carefully prepared them, even going as far as to cut a few vegetables into cute shapes: stars, flowers, little moons. But never hearts. You remembered him teasing you about that once, saying hearts were his favorite shape, followed by a playful wink. You’d laughed it off at the time, assuming it was just his usual charm, the same charm he probably used on the girls who left phone numbers scrawled on his palm. He had to have someone else in his life—a supermodel, perhaps, given how effortlessly handsome he was.

Yet... he never seemed happy about it. If anything, he seemed lonely. Whenever you talked, it felt like he craved more than just the conversation. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his entire body seemed to lean closer, like he needed something deeper, something that went beyond friendly banter or casual encounters.

And maybe that’s why you found yourself worried when he would disappear for days, even a week at a time. You tried to brush it off as his job—probably some business trip or other—but it gnawed at you, that feeling of absence. When he came back, though, he always brought something with him, some small trinket, a souvenir, like he needed to remind you of him even when he wasn’t around.

This time, it was a teddy bear. Soft, plush, with a bright "I ♥ Kyoto" shirt. You smiled when he handed it to you, though the way the bear’s eyes gleamed under the light made you feel uneasy for just a second—like they were watching. You tried to shake off the odd feeling. The gesture was sweet, after all. Satoru always put in effort, even if his gifts were sometimes... peculiar.

After the bear came the snack. A box of mochi, wrapped in temple paper, fresh from his trip. "Got these at a temple," he said casually, offering them to you with that charming smile. "They’re best before they get stale."

“You went all the way to Kyoto? For just a couple of days?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “That must’ve been expensive... What do you do exactly?”

His laughter was quick, soft, as if your question amused him. “Oh, nothing too exciting. Just work.” He waved a hand dismissively, his tone light and playful, but still vague. Always vague.

You were used to it by now, his avoidance of direct answers. The more you asked, the less you felt like you actually knew about him. It made him seem almost too mysterious, in a way that kept you intrigued but also wary. Was he hiding something, or was he just playing around?

For a brief moment, you wondered if he could be involved in something shady. Maybe the Yakuza? But then you laughed at the thought. Satoru? Yakuza? He could barely keep a plant alive, much less run some underground empire. And besides, with his teasing and carefree attitude, he probably couldn’t harm a fly.

Still, the mystery lingered around him like a fog you couldn’t quite see through. Every time he dodged your questions with that casual grin, you felt like there was something you were missing, a deeper part of him just out of reach.

And as you set the teddy bear on your bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it, or perhaps he, was watching you. Waiting.

The next morning, you stood in front of Satoru’s door, barely awake, a small yawn escaping your lips as you lightly tapped on the doorframe. In your hands, you held his bento box, neatly wrapped in a blue fabric that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. You’d stayed up late preparing it, cutting the veggies into stars just the way you knew he liked. It had become part of your routine by now, but despite the growing sense of familiarity, something still felt... off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

The door swung open, revealing Satoru dressed in a dark blue uniform, his trademark blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. You’d seen him like this a few times before—though you never quite understood why he wore it. But then again, you never asked. You were certain he’d just brush it off with that same playful smile, teasing you without ever giving you a real answer. Still, sometimes the curiosity gnawed at you.

“I can already tell it’s going to be amazing,” Satoru said, his voice smooth and chipper as always, his lips curling into a smile. “Curry buns, right? You spoil me, Sunshine.”

When he reached for the bento, his hand brushed yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was warm, and it sent a subtle, unsettling tingle up your arm. You couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or just another one of his casual gestures, but the weight of his gaze—despite the blindfold—felt heavy.

“Oh?” His tone shifted slightly, almost as if he’d been waiting for the moment. “Do you mind if I use your phone really quick? I need to call my driver for work. My phone’s updating, and it’s taking forever... Did yours get that new update last night?”

You blinked, slightly confused. “Update? Uh, maybe... I don’t remember?” You handed him your phone without thinking too much of it. His smile widened as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours again, lingering in that same, deliberate way.

He quickly dialed a number, bringing the phone to his ear while falling into step beside you. His stride matched yours perfectly, like it was second nature to him. As you both walked toward the elevator, you found yourself glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Satoru seemed perfectly relaxed, almost too relaxed, as if walking alongside you like this was just another part of his day. But something about the situation gnawed at the back of your mind. Had there really been an update? You couldn’t remember seeing any notifications about it.

Satoru spoke briefly into the phone, his voice low and calm. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but the way he effortlessly integrated himself into your space, always so close, always so present—it was starting to feel a little too comfortable for your liking. He handed your phone back with a casual smile as the elevator doors opened.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket. “You’re always saving me.” His tone was light, playful, but the way he said it, the way he always seemed to need you—whether for small favors or something more—it left a lingering unease you couldn’t quite shake.

“Do you need a ride?” Satoru asked, glancing over at you with that lazy grin that always made you feel a little warmer inside. “You work at that finance building next to the Lawson, right? My friend Nanami used to work there. Said the bosses are real assholes, but I heard they just got bought out?”

You paused, taken aback for a moment. How did he know where you worked? Maybe he’d seen your badge when you came home late or noticed it while you were passing by his door. You decided not to dwell on it, chalking it up to coincidence.

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “A ride? Hm... I don’t really mind taking the train. It’s refreshing, you know?” As you glanced down at your phone to check a quick email, you noticed a new app on your home screen. Was there an update last night? You had no recollection of it, but you pushed the thought away.

“I insist! My driver, Ijichi, won’t mind at all,” he urged, his tone bright and teasing. “Plus, it’s on the way to a meeting I need to be at. And speaking of which—how about dinner tonight? I actually used that coupon book you gave me.” He chuckled lightly, adding, “Not that I really need to save money, but it’s fun to try!”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shook your head. “Dinner? Oh, I don’t know, Satoru. I just got this new role at work, and I might have to stay late tonight.”

His grin wavered for just a heartbeat, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Is that so? Surely you can get the night off for just one night. I mean, you work so hard cooking for me every night…” His voice took on a slightly softer tone, almost pleading. “Or maybe if it’s easier, could I start eating dinner with you?”

His eyes sparkled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, but you brushed it off. He was just being friendly, right? Satoru had always been a bit too eager to be around you, but you never thought much of it. You laughed, trying to lighten the moment. “I don’t know if I can handle cooking for two! You’re a big guy; I’d probably run out of food.”

Satoru leaned closer, his expression playful yet somehow serious, as if he were weighing your response. “Come on, I promise I won’t eat you out of house and home. Besides, it would be nice to have someone to share dinner with. I mean, I already take so much from you—like your delicious bentos.” His grin widened, but you could sense something else lurking behind his playful demeanor.

You shrugged, trying to keep things light. “Well, if you’re really going to be that much trouble, I guess I can let you join me for dinner now and then.”

“Great! I can’t wait,” he said, the eagerness in his voice almost unsettling. It felt like he was a bit too excited about it, and while it made you smile, there was an undercurrent of intensity that left you feeling a bit unsure. But then, you brushed it aside. Satoru was just a quirky guy who liked to joke around; he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

Once a night quickly led to every night—if he didn’t have to work late. You often wondered when this guy ever found the time to sleep. Yet, you found it oddly comforting to have him around, even if he was a little too clingy.

Each time he came over to your apartment, Satoru would fidget with your knickknacks, touching the stuffed animals that cluttered your couch and playfully harassing the plants on your windowsill. It felt innocent enough at first, but with every touch, you noticed how he seemed to absorb every detail of your space, like a sponge soaking in your essence.

You often caught him stealing glances at your photos, his eyes narrowing in concentration as if he were dissecting each moment. “Did you really travel there? It looks fun,” he’d remark, his tone light yet laced with something deeper—an interest that made your stomach flutter, but not entirely in a good way.

It started to feel odd, though—how did he know precisely what time you would be home? More importantly, how did he seem to always be waiting just outside your door, a lovestruck grin plastered across his face, as if he had been standing there for ages, anticipating your arrival? You brushed it off, convincing yourself it was merely a coincidence, but the uneasy feeling lingered, nestled in the back of your mind.

Daily rides to work became the norm, and sometimes after work, he’d bring over wine—something fancy you would chastise him for, telling him he needed to save money. But he always waved off your concerns with a teasing grin, “What’s money when I have you?” He’d chuckle, leaning a little too close, and you’d laugh it off, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.

Tonight was no different; the two of you were nestled on the couch, leaning in closer than usual, wine glasses in hand. Something felt off, yet you couldn’t pinpoint it as your vision began to swirl.

“I think I should call it a night,” you murmured softly, attempting to get up. Just as you started to rise, Satoru’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Here, wait for the spins to go away. Just use me as support,” he said, his voice smooth like silk.

As you leaned against him, you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt—his rock-hard chest seemed broader than before, radiating warmth that enveloped you. His smile was chilling, like the night sky, yet there was something darker lurking behind it. The conversations you shared flowed easily, but the intimacy felt different, tinged with a strange urgency that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

You tried to shake off the unease creeping in, but each time you brushed your fingers against the wine glass, it felt like he was watching you—really watching you, as if he could see straight through you. Was he?

You began to notice things shifting in your apartment. A new decorative item here, a small plant there. At first, you attributed it to your own absent-mindedness, but the more you looked around, the more it felt like he was leaving pieces of himself behind, integrating into your life in a way that felt oddly possessive.

When you glanced over at him, his eyes gleamed with that familiar spark, but it was mixed with something else—an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know, sunshine,” he started, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I just want to make sure you’re safe. I care about you, you know?”

You chuckled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood. “I can take care of myself, Satoru.”

But the way he tilted his head, that playful smile transforming into something more fervent, made your heart race in a different way. “I know you can, but wouldn’t it be better if I helped? We could make a great team.”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, an unwavering focus that made your skin prickle. “Yeah… a team,” you repeated, but the word felt heavy on your tongue.

“Let’s keep looking out for each other, alright?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

And as the shadows of the room flickered with the light of the TV, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was already doing just that—watching over you, waiting for the right moment to take the next step.

You were caught in his web, and every part of you warned that getting closer could lead to something dangerously intoxicating, but you couldn’t seem to pull away. Not like he’d let you either.

The world seemed to sway a bit more. Satoru's fingers deftly grabbed the wine glass from your hand and set it on the table, his movements fluid and deliberate, as if choreographed.

“You know, Sunshine,” he cooed softly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate in the air between you, “the world is a really dangerous place. There are monsters out there… really scary ones.” His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart thud erratically in your chest, panic blooming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t move. Why couldn’t you move?

Satoru leaned closer, the space between you charged with an unsettling energy. “You’re so lucky that I just… that I just need you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re the only light I need.”

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and a chill ran down your spine as he continued, “You see, I let someone else leave me. I just can’t do that to you. Let you leave. Let you get hurt.” His lips curled into a soft chuckle, but it sounded dark, echoing with something sinister. “You’re kind of weak, you know?”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words. “My best friend told me to always protect the weak... so I’m going to protect you for now, okay? We’re going to be a happy little family.” The way he said it felt like a promise and a threat, all wrapped in one.

Your eyes widened when you felt him tilt your chin up, forcing you to look directly into his lovesick gaze. His pupils were blown wide, and that wide smile on his lips sent a wave of dread crashing over you.

“Sunshine…thank you for lighting up my world. Letting me see how kind the world can be,” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice twisted with an almost manic glee. And before you could react, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours with a fervor that knocked the breath out of you. The kiss was wet, sloppy, as if he had never kissed anyone before. He chased your lips with such fervor as if he was scared to lose you. This wasn’t just a kiss; as his hands held you closer, enveloping you within his warmth, this was a claim. A proclamation that he wasn’t going to let you go. His passion felt overwhelming, consuming, and you realized with a sinking heart that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your mother’s words rang in your mind, sharp and clear: “Never feed a stray; they’ll never leave.”

#jjk #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #yandere x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #dark gojo satoru #yandere #soft yandere

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faebled-stories · 3 days ago

Text

A Journey to Belong

Kinkvember Day 26: Collaring

LOONA/Lossemble Kim Hyunjin x Male reader

12.2k words

AN: Woke up this morning to see an anon sharing a picture that was absolutely perfect. I'm a little gutted I didn't think to use it first, but I'm swapping out the original because it fits so well. Shoutout to that anon!

Hyunjin used to wear her collar with pride. To her, it was more than just an accessory; it was a quiet proclamation of something deeper, something grounding. The soft leather always warmed against her skin, like a second pulse in tune with her own. She would touch it absentmindedly, her fingers brushing its edge when she was lost in thought or overwhelmed by emotion. It wasn’t just a tether—it was comfort, a mark of belonging, a secret she carried that only the two of you truly understood.

Sometimes, you’d catch her tracing its curve, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smile. She seemed to radiate joy in those moments, a quiet confidence that reflected her connection to you. When she laughed, her head tilted just enough for the light to catch its polished surface, creating a subtle gleam that felt like it winked just for you. That collar wasn’t just part of her identity—it was part of yours. A symbol that carried the weight of something words couldn’t touch, a connection that went deeper than mere appearance.

In the past, she treated it with reverence. Her hands would move with care as she adjusted it in the morning, her fingers slow and deliberate, as if the act were a ritual. When you fastened it around her neck, her posture straightened, her shoulders set, as though she were bearing the weight of something noble, something cherished. But lately, that reverence had begun to fade.

The world had grown heavier on her shoulders, its quiet burdens pressing into her with relentless persistence. It dulled the gleam in her eyes, dimming the light that once made them shine like distant stars. She moved slower now, less deliberate, her rhythm disrupted by the constant push and pull of responsibilities she could never quite shake. You saw it in the way her hand brushed the collar less often, in the way it hung around her neck without the same meaning. It had begun to feel like an afterthought—a once-sacred symbol reduced to just another thing she wore.

The rituals that once anchored her, those small acts that reminded her of who she was and what she meant to you, had grown scarce. The quiet moments where meaning was woven, thread by thread, had been replaced by silence. It wasn’t just the collar losing its weight—it was the spaces between you that felt heavier now, filled with an unspoken distance that you couldn’t quite bridge.

That evening, the house was quiet. The golden hues of sunset filtered through the curtains, pooling in soft puddles of light on the wooden floor. You stood in the bedroom doorway, your shadow stretching long across the room as you watched her. She was tucking her legs beneath the blanket, her movements slow, tired. Normally, this hour was sacred. She would kneel beside the bed, her posture straight, her head bowed, her breaths even as she let the weight of the day melt away. It was a small ritual that belonged to the two of you, a moment of balance in a chaotic world.

But tonight, she simply climbed into bed. Brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face, her expression was one of quiet resignation, as though that ritual were nothing more than a faint memory.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice steady but questioning.

She glanced up at you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, faint shadows beneath them betraying just how long the day had been. “Hmm?”

“Your ritual,” you reminded her gently, careful to keep your tone light.

“Oh,” she murmured, shifting slightly as she pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. “I’ll skip it tonight. I’m tired.”

The word hung in the air between you, cold and unyielding. It felt like the first crack in something you’d thought was unshakable. You wanted to press her, to remind her that it wasn’t just a routine but a connection—a space for her, for you, for what you’d built together. But something fragile lingered in her gaze, a weariness that ran deeper than physical fatigue. She looked like a bird perched precariously on a wire, ready to take flight at the slightest movement.

So instead, you nodded and stepped away, the sound of your footsteps fading into the quiet of the house. Still, the tightness in your chest lingered, an ache settling deep as you heard the soft creak of the bed springs signaling her restless sleep.

-----

A couple of mornings later, sunlight poured through the kitchen window, a golden warmth spilling across the tiled floor. Faint motes of dust swirled lazily in the still air, catching the light. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound breaking the silence. You stood at the counter, the warmth of your coffee mug grounding you, your gaze fixed on the corner of the room.

It was the spot you’d asked her to clear days ago. Yet, it remained untouched, the clutter seeming to expand every time you looked at it. Books with dog-eared pages teetered in uneven stacks, half-empty mugs marked with faint coffee rings sat beside plates with crumbs still clinging to them. Papers—some folded, some crumpled—spilled across the surface, as though she’d abandoned them mid-thought. It wasn’t just a mess; it was her mess. Her habits left to fester, her tasks left undone, her things bleeding into the shared space as if their importance extended only as far as her immediate need for them.

You took a slow sip of your coffee, the bitter warmth grounding you as irritation flickered faintly in your chest. Turning toward the sound of soft footsteps, you saw Hyunjin shuffle into the room. Her hair was loosely gathered in a bun, messy strands framing her face, and her phone cast a pale glow across her features. Her thumb moved idly, scrolling with an almost hypnotic focus that made the rest of the world feel distant.

Without looking up, she moved toward the counter, her movements slow and distracted. You waited, letting the silence stretch for a moment, then finally spoke. “Hyunjin, why haven’t you cleaned the corner yet?”

She paused mid-step, her thumb hovering over her phone. For a fleeting second, she looked genuinely confused, like she wasn’t sure what you were talking about. Her eyes followed yours to the mess, and recognition flickered faintly across her face.

“Oh,” she said lightly, her tone casual, as if the neglected corner was an afterthought. “I haven't gotten to it yet.”

You set your coffee mug down carefully, keeping your voice calm but deliberate. “You didn’t get to it?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her tone dismissive, already brushing off the moment. “I’ll do it later. It’s not a big deal.”

Her hand waved vaguely toward the clutter, and she didn’t even glance up from her phone. Her thumb resumed its slow scrolling, her focus absorbed once again by the screen in her hand. The dismissiveness in her words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t the mess itself—it was the meaning behind it, the erosion of care, the growing distance her casual attitude revealed.

“Hyunjin,” you said, your voice tightening slightly. “When I ask you to do something, I expect it to be done.”

She didn’t even glance up, her gaze fixed firmly on her phone. “Okay, okay,” she mumbled, the words quick, automatic, more reflex than acknowledgment. As she turned slightly, she muttered under her breath, “Jeez.”

The word was quiet but sharp enough to cut. It hung in the air, a small jab that carried a weight far heavier than the sound should have. Your jaw tightened, the flicker of irritation blooming into something harder to ignore.

The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window felt out of place now, incongruous against the tension crackling in the air. The room, once a peaceful haven, suddenly felt heavier. The silence was no longer soothing but charged with something unspoken. You turned back to the window, gripping your coffee mug a little tighter as you stared out at the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

It wasn’t about the mess, not really. It was about what it represented—the slow, creeping disconnection that seemed to settle in the spaces between these moments. You wondered how something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could feel so monumental. But the distance was there, undeniable, growing wider with every careless dismissal, every idle word. You stared out at the golden light playing across the trees and wondered when things had started to slip away.

-----

That evening, the restaurant was softly lit, the golden glow of candles casting flickering shadows across the table. The low hum of conversation mixed with the gentle clinking of silverware, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and alive. You and Hyunjin sat among her friends—Go Won, Yeojin, Hyeju, and Vivi—whose chatter flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter that seemed to brighten the room. The five of them shared an easy rhythm, their teasing and playful banter weaving a language they all seemed to instinctively understand.

Hyunjin looked radiant tonight, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room and the laughter bubbling from her lips. She leaned forward as Yeojin said something outrageous, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement, her smile wide and uninhibited. It was the kind of joy that drew you in, making the rest of the room blur around her. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in the way her laughter lit up the space between you, in the quiet pride of seeing her so at ease.

Then, Go Won leaned forward, her grin mischievous, her tone teasing. “So,” she said, drawing out the word, her eyes glinting with barely contained glee, “is it true that Hyunjin’s partner is, like, totally in charge?”

Yeojin giggled, her eyes darting between you and Hyunjin, while Hyeju smirked knowingly. Vivi, who had been sipping her wine, set her glass down delicately and raised a curious eyebrow, her lips curving into a subtle smile. Their teasing filled the air with an electric anticipation, the kind that came before someone said something bold. All eyes turned to Hyunjin, waiting for her response.

Hyunjin laughed, but it wasn’t the soft, genuine sound you’d heard moments before. This laugh was sharp, cutting, her tone tinged with something defensive. “Yeah, right,” she said, flipping her hair with an exaggerated flourish. “He thinks he’s in charge? Oh please.”

The table erupted in laughter. Go Won clapped her hands while Yeojin practically doubled over, her giggles carrying across the room. Even Hyeju, who often played it cool, cracked a grin. Vivi, ever poised, hid her smirk behind her hand, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. You smiled along, but it felt stiff, a hollow gesture as her words sank in.

Beneath the table, you reached for her hand, a subtle gesture meant to ground the moment, to remind her of the connection that should have been there. But her hand shifted slightly, pulling away as if she hadn’t noticed—or perhaps as if she had and didn’t care.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, leaning toward her so your words wouldn’t carry to the others. Your tone wasn’t angry, but there was a question in it—a quiet nudge toward something unspoken.

For a fleeting moment, her smile faltered. She glanced at you, her eyes flickering with something—hesitation, regret, a sliver of guilt—but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “What?” she said, her voice light, brushing off the moment. “It’s just a joke.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, their casual dismissal cutting deeper than they should have. The conversation rolled forward without missing a beat, the others picking up where they’d left off. Vivi leaned toward Go Won, quietly asking a question that made her laugh, her soft voice adding to the warm hum of the room. Hyunjin, meanwhile, turned back to Hyeju, her smile slipping back into place. On the surface, everything seemed normal, her laughter blending seamlessly into the rhythm of her friends’ banter.

But beneath that surface, her thoughts tumbled. She told herself it wasn’t a big deal—that it was better this way, keeping things light, keeping her independence in view for others to see. They didn’t need to understand everything. They didn’t need to see what happened between the two of you, the private bond that defined her. That was hers to guard. And yet, as she laughed, the thought settled heavily in her chest, an unease she couldn’t quite push away.

You leaned back slightly, withdrawing into the golden light of the restaurant. The room around you was alive with warmth and conversation, but it felt distant, as though it belonged to another world entirely. You watched her across the table, the way she tilted her head toward Hyeju, sharing a private joke, the corners of her lips lifting just enough. It should have been enough to warm you, but instead, a quiet ache gnawed at the space between you.

There was a disconnect now, sharp and unyielding, like an invisible chasm that had opened in the space of a few words. It wasn’t the laughter or even the teasing that stung. It was the way she pulled away—the way her words had drawn a line that neither the candlelight nor the soft hum of the restaurant could cross. The warmth of the evening felt muted, its glow unable to soften the weight of the unspoken distance. You sat back in silence, watching her laugh and smile, and wondered when the connection you shared had started to feel like a memory rather than something real.

The days had begun to blur together, the weight of unspoken tension threading through the quiet of the house. Little moments that once felt warm now felt distant, replaced by a growing disconnect that neither of you had yet acknowledged aloud. You found yourself noticing the small things more—the sound of her keys dropping onto the counter, the way her shoes landed haphazardly by the door, as if she no longer cared where they fell. It was as if the rhythm you once shared had gone slightly out of sync, a subtle discord that lingered in every interaction.

This evening was no different. The house was still, the muted hum of life outside barely audible through the windows. You sat on the couch, a reading lamp casting a soft glow over the book in your hands, the quiet, a fragile balm you hadn’t realized you needed. The words on the page barely registered, your mind wandering to the space between you and Hyunjin, to the way things had begun to fray. You turned the page absently, your focus more on the soft creak of the house settling than on the story in front of you.

The sudden slam of the front door shattered the stillness, the sharp crack slicing through the quiet like a thunderclap. Hyunjin stormed in, her movements hurried and agitated. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and hit the floor with a heavy thud, the sound reverberating in the space like a dropped weight. It landed crumpled and forgotten, a statement as loud as the door she had slammed behind her.

Tension radiated off her in waves, her presence electric, charged with barely contained frustration. She moved with a restlessness that seemed to fill the room, suffocating in its intensity. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers twitching as they reached up to push her hair back from her face, her movements sharp and unrelenting.

From your spot on the couch, you looked up, your grip tightening slightly on the book as the soft light from the lamp illuminated your face. You studied her, taking in the way she paced slightly, her gaze flickering over the space like she was searching for something to anchor her. The energy she brought into the room was undeniable, sharp and restless like the air before a downpour.

“Rough day?” you asked, your voice neutral, carefully measured as you closed the book and set it aside on the small table next to you.

“Don’t start,” she snapped, her voice taut and edged with irritation, each syllable cutting through the stillness like a blade. She kicked her shoes off with thoughtless movements, one landing askew near the door while the other slid across the hardwood with a soft scrape. Without so much as a glance in your direction, she headed toward the kitchen, her movements brisk and full of a frustration she seemed unable to contain.

You rose from the couch, moving calmly in her wake, each step deliberate and unhurried. The tension radiating from her seemed to fill the air, but you kept your own energy steady, refusing to be drawn into the storm she was carrying. “I’m not starting anything,” you said, your voice low and even. “I’m asking.”

“Then don’t!” she said, whirling around to face you, the sharpness in her tone reverberating between you. Her eyes burned with an emotion that went beyond anger—it was raw, layered with exhaustion and something deeper, something tangled and unspoken that caught you off guard. “God, you’re always hovering. Can’t you just give me some space?”

Her words lingered in the air like smoke, acrid and stinging. They cut through the fragile quiet that had filled the house before she arrived, leaving it broken and jagged in her wake. Her shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths, her chest heaving slightly as though even the act of speaking had pulled something out of her. You took a small step closer, your movements measured, keeping your gaze steady as you tried to read the tension in her stance. Her posture was tight, defensive, her arms twitching slightly as though she wanted to cross them but couldn’t quite commit to the action.

“Hyunjin, come here,” you said softly. Your voice was calm but firm, a quiet invitation edged with a gravity that couldn’t be ignored. It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight, a steady anchor in the turbulence that crackled in the space between you.

Her jaw tightened, her teeth pressing together as she hesitated. For a moment, her arms wrapped around her chest defensively, her body closing off. Her eyes flickered with something between defiance and vulnerability—an emotion she seemed desperate to mask. “What now?” she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm and exhaustion. “Another lecture? Another rule I’ve broken?”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, refusing to take the bait. “Come here. Now,” you said again, sharper this time. The calm authority in your voice sliced cleanly through her deflection, leaving no room for argument.

Her body stiffened, her lips parting as if to fire back a retort, but the words caught in her throat. She froze, her arms tightening against her chest as she stared at you, her expression caught somewhere between rebellion and hesitation. The air between you felt impossibly heavy, thick with the weight of all the things left unsaid. Her defiance was still there, simmering just below the surface, but quieter now, edged with uncertainty.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached for the collar around her neck. The movement was calm, but its intent was unmistakable. Her breath hitched audibly, her eyes widening as your fingers brushed the soft leather, warm from her skin. The cool buckle under your touch seemed to amplify the tension, vibrating in the charged silence.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot up, grasping yours with sudden urgency. Her palms pressed against the backs of your hands, trembling slightly as though to stop you—or at least to understand. The contact struck you both, heavier than the action itself, more intimate than any argument could ever be.

Her fingers curled lightly against yours, delicate but insistent, as if trying to cling to something intangible. She didn’t speak, but her eyes searched yours, wide and pleading. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but the emotion in her gaze spoke louder than any words she could muster.

The buckle clicked open, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet. Her hands lingered on yours for a moment, trembling as though reluctant to let go. When the leather slipped free from her neck, her hands fell away slowly, brushing over her collarbone as if trying to feel the weight that was no longer there.

Her gaze darted downward, her expression shifting between shock and raw vulnerability. “What—what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice faltering, unsteady. Her fingers rose instinctively to the bare skin of her neck, searching for the familiar presence of the collar, now conspicuously absent.

You held the collar in your hands for a moment, its weight feeling heavier than it had ever been. The leather seemed darker under the dim light, more imposing in its absence from her neck. Without a word, you turned and walked toward the mantle, your footsteps deliberate, every step sinking into the silence like a nail into wood.

Carefully, almost ceremoniously, you placed the collar on the mantle. Its dark band stood out starkly against the pale wood, a silent reminder of what it represented. You let your hand linger for a moment before stepping back and turning to face her again.

“If you can’t respect what this collar means,” you said, your voice steady and measured, “then you don’t deserve to wear it.”

Her breath hitched audibly, sharp and hollow in the heavy silence. For a moment, she stared at you, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she looked away, her hands twitching at her sides. Then, her gaze snapped back, flickering with faint resistance, though it was muted—more defense than defiance.

“That’s not—” she began, but her voice faltered, the words tapering off. She looked down, her fingers brushing her neck as though searching for the familiar weight that was no longer there. Her jaw tightened, and her voice came softer, almost subdued. “You’re… overthinking this,” she muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

You stayed silent, your gaze steady, letting her words linger in the charged air. She shifted uncomfortably under your scrutiny, her hands falling away from her neck as she glanced toward the collar resting on the mantle. The sight of it made her flinch, her shoulders drawing inward, but she refused to let herself stay vulnerable for long.

“Whatever…It’s just a stupid collar,” she said finally, the words tumbling out too quickly, too defensively, as though trying to shield herself from the enormity of the moment.

Your expression didn’t waver, your silence speaking louder than any response could. Her dismissive tone lingered in the air, but it felt brittle, as though it could shatter under the weight of her unspoken emotions. The room settled into an oppressive stillness, the warmth of the house replaced by a cold tension that neither of you could escape.

Her gaze flicked back to you for a fleeting moment before dropping to the floor. She stood frozen, her fingers twitching at her sides, her vulnerability laid bare despite her words. And as the silence deepened, you wondered if she truly believed what she had just said—or if it was simply easier to say than to confront what the collar, and everything it represented, meant to her.

-----

The absence of the collar should have been no big deal. That’s what Hyunjin told herself that first night, staring at the faint shadows cast by the moonlight on the ceiling. The glow of the streetlights outside spilled through the curtains, painting shifting shapes that danced with the breeze. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the cool air brushing against her bare neck—a subtle but insistent reminder of what wasn’t there. She pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders, seeking warmth, but it didn’t help. No matter how tightly she cocooned herself, the emptiness followed her, clinging like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Her fingers fidgeted at her sides, brushing against her throat as though searching for something that wasn’t there. Each time they met bare skin, a pang of frustration mingled with something deeper—something she refused to name—flared in her chest. She shifted onto her side, then her back again, the rustle of the sheets doing little to calm the restless energy coiling within her. The room felt colder, quieter than it should have been, the stillness pressing down on her like a weight.

“It’s just a strip of leather,” she whispered into the dark, her voice barely audible. The words felt hollow even as they left her lips, a weak attempt to convince herself of something she didn’t truly believe. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Saying it aloud should have helped. It should have silenced the thoughts, dulled the ache in her chest. But the words dissolved into the silence, weightless and meaningless, leaving behind only a sharper awareness of the void they couldn’t fill. She turned her face into the pillow, her fingers clutching the blanket as though holding onto something tangible could ground her. But even that felt futile, like trying to grasp smoke.

Sleep, when it finally came, was fractured and uneasy. Flickering images and sensations haunted her dreams, vague and ungraspable. The sound of your voice lingered in her subconscious—steady, grounding, sure. The firm yet comforting pressure of your hands left an imprint that refused to fade. And the collar—it haunted her, its weight vivid in her dreams, so real she could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

She woke several times throughout the night, her body restless, the blanket tangled around her legs. Each time, her hand instinctively reached for her neck, her fingers brushing the bare skin as though to confirm what her mind already knew. The absence felt like an accusation, a silent reminder of what she had dismissed too easily. By the time the faint light of dawn seeped through the curtains, her body was drained, but her thoughts were relentless, circling the same question: Why did it feel like so much more than just a collar?

-----

By the third day, the weight of the collar’s absence had become unbearable. The void it left consumed her thoughts, gnawing at her relentlessly, each quiet moment amplifying the ache. The collar sat on the mantle in the bedroom, unmoving yet commanding, its polished leather gleaming faintly in the soft light of flickering candles. It seemed so small, so unassuming, yet its presence loomed large, dominating not just the room but her every thought.

At first, she avoided looking at it directly, telling herself it didn’t matter, that it was better to stay busy and keep her focus elsewhere. But the effort was futile. Her eyes betrayed her, flickering back to it again and again, her chest tightening with each glance. The ache inside her grew sharper, more insistent. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twitching at her sides as though resisting the urge to reach out. It wasn’t just the object that unsettled her—it was the creeping realization of what it symbolized: trust, connection, submission, and the bond she had taken for granted.

She tried to leave the room, to find distraction in other parts of the house, but the bedroom pulled at her like a tide. Each step away felt heavier, harder, until she couldn’t bring herself to leave at all. By midmorning, she was back, sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the mantle. Hours stretched long and quiet around her as she lingered, her presence a silent acknowledgment of the tension she couldn’t escape.

By evening, Hyunjin’s resolve had crumbled entirely. She remained in the bedroom, the air thick with the faint scent of mint and the lingering trace of your cologne. The room seemed heavier than usual, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for her to face what she had been avoiding all day.

Her gaze locked on the mantle once again, drawn to the collar as if by an invisible force. Its polished leather caught the flickering candlelight, the buckle gleaming faintly like a distant beacon. Her chest tightened with every passing second as she stared, her reflection faintly visible in the metal, distorted and fragile. Her breath grew shallow, her thoughts swirling into a chaotic storm of guilt, longing, and determination.

Unable to stand the weight of it any longer, she slowly sank to her knees. The wooden floor felt cold against her skin, grounding her trembling body as she settled into position. Her hands rested lightly on her thighs, but her fingers quivered, unable to stay still. She bowed her head, her breath uneven, as though the very act of submission was drawing the truth out of her.

The room pressed down on her in its quiet stillness. Each flicker of candlelight seemed to illuminate the depths of her turmoil, the flames dancing in time with the raw emotion that churned within her.

Her heart pounded steadily in her chest, her body aching from the strain of holding the position, but she refused to move. The act of kneeling felt like the only thing tethering her, a physical manifestation of the submission she had neglected.

She whispered to herself, soft and uncertain, the words carried by the silence. “It wasn’t just a stupid collar. It never was.”

The admission felt raw, vulnerable, but the weight of it didn’t lift. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as the minutes ticked by. Her muscles burned, her knees aching against the hard floor, but she stayed resolute, unwilling to let the discomfort deter her. This was where she belonged—waiting, asking without words for the chance to prove herself.

When the sound of the front door opening echoed through the quiet house, her heart leapt in her chest. Her body stiffened, the faint creak of your footsteps growing louder as you moved closer. She didn’t dare lift her head, the air around her thickening with anticipation. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her thighs, her breath catching as your familiar presence filled the doorway.

You stopped, your shadow falling over her as you took in the scene: Hyunjin kneeling at the foot of the mantle, her head bowed, her form trembling slightly with emotion. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across her figure, accentuating the strain in her shoulders, the tension in her hands. She didn’t look up, but the weight of your gaze pressed into her like a tangible force.

“Hyunjin,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head lifted slightly at the sound of your voice, her eyes wide and glistening as they met yours. “Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I know I wasn’t called here. But I needed to be here.”

You studied her, your expression unreadable, and she hurried to continue, her words spilling out in a rush. “I’ve been so foolish,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought I could brush it off, that it didn’t matter. But I was wrong. So wrong.”

Her fingers twitched against her thighs, her entire body trembling as she spoke. “I’ve learned… that submission isn’t automatic. It’s not something I can take for granted or expect without effort. It’s something I have to give—fully, every day. And I failed to do that, Sir. I failed to value you, to trust you, and to honor what this collar represents.”

Her voice broke, a sob catching in her throat. “I thought I could handle its absence. That it wouldn’t affect me. But it does, Sir. It does more than I ever imagined. Without it… without you, I feel so lost.”

Her head dipped lower, tears spilling over as her breath hitched audibly. “Please, Sir,” she whispered, desperation threading through every syllable. “I don’t deserve it yet, but I want to. I want to earn it back. I’ll do anything. Just… just let me prove myself.”

“Words are easy, Hyunjin,” you said, your tone calm but unyielding. “They don’t mean as much as action.”

Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked up, her wide eyes searching your face for any hint of mercy. “Please, Sir,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ll show you. I’ll prove it. Just… please, let me earn it back.”

“You’ve been working hard,” you acknowledged, stepping closer, the collar still in your hands. “But hard work isn’t enough. What makes you think you deserve this again?”

Her lips parted, trembling as she struggled to find the words. “Because I—I know what I lost,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “I know what it means now, Sir. I’ll do anything to earn it back. Please, don’t keep it from me.”

You took another step forward, looming over her. The weight of your presence made her lower her head again, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. “Anything?” you asked, your tone steady but sharp. “Because this collar isn’t just about obedience. It’s about trust. Commitment. Do you even understand what those mean?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said quickly, her voice rising in desperation. “I understand now, I swear. I didn’t before, but I do now. Please… let me prove it to you.”

Her hands twitched against her thighs, instinctively wanting to reach for you but staying frozen in place. The room fell silent again, the tension thick as her pleas hung in the air. You stayed quiet, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing grew more frantic, her fingers curling into fists as her composure began to crack.

“Sir,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m begging you. Please… I need it.”

You crouched in front of her, the collar dangling from your fingers. Her eyes locked onto it instantly, her breath catching as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. But you didn’t move to put it on her. Instead, you leaned closer, your voice a low murmur. “Needing it isn’t enough. You’ll have to earn it, Hyunjin. Through action, not words. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll do anything. I’ll prove myself.”

“Then keep proving it,” you replied, your tone firm as you straightened again. Her body tensed, and for a moment, she thought you were going to walk away. The thought must have terrified her, because she moved without thinking, her hands clasping around your ankle.

“Please, Sir,” she begged again, her voice raw with emotion. “Please… I’m sorry for taking it for granted. I’ll never do it again, I swear. Just give me a chance.”

You watched her for another long moment, letting her desperation sink in. Finally, you knelt again, holding the collar at eye level. Her eyes widened, hope flickering across her face, but she stayed still, trembling as you leaned in.

“This collar is not just a decoration,” you said, your voice low but deliberate. “It is a gift. A privilege. And for it to stay on, you’ll need to show me that you understand that.”

Her breath hitched as you moved closer, the collar brushing against her neck. Slowly, with deliberate care, you fastened it around her throat. The soft click of the buckle echoed in the room, final and absolute, like a vow being made. Her chest rose sharply as the familiar weight settled back into place, grounding her once again.

Her fingers twitched again, instinctively wanting to reach for it, but she stopped herself. You tilted her chin up with a single finger, your gaze locking onto hers.

“To keep this collar,” you said, your tone soft but firm, “you will face tests. Challenges that show me you’re worthy of wearing it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted, and her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

You let your hand linger on her chin for a moment longer before releasing her, your gaze steady as you straightened to your full height. Towering over her, your presence filled the space, commanding without a single word. She remained kneeling, her hands resting on her thighs, her posture perfect but trembling slightly as the weight of the moment settled over her.

“Good,” you said, your voice steady, firm. “Because this is your second chance. Don’t waste it.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shallow, her gaze flickering between your face and the collar now secure around her neck. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension shifting into something heavier, warmer, charged with the quiet promise of something restored.

Slowly, you leaned down, your hand brushing her cheek as your lips met hers. The kiss began tentative, a gentle press of lips, testing the waters of the bond you were rebuilding. But it deepened quickly, fueled by the unspoken emotions of the past week. Her hands, still trembling, reached for your shoulders, clutching at you as though afraid you might pull away.

Your hand found the collar, your fingers curling around the leather as you tugged gently, pulling her closer. The sensation sent a visible shiver down her spine, her breath catching in her throat.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” you murmured against her lips, your voice low and knowing.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “So much, Sir.”

A faint smile played across your lips as your grip on the collar tightened slightly, guiding her as the kiss deepened. The heat between you grew steadily, the air thick with the mingling scents of mint and her rising need. She pressed closer to you, her hands sliding down your chest, fingers clutching at your shirt as if anchoring herself in your presence. Each touch, each movement was an affirmation of the connection you had rebuilt, the trust slowly returning.

Her body leaned into yours instinctively, the energy between you palpable. You pulled back just enough to let her feel the tension lingering in the space between your bodies. Your hand, still curled around the collar, applied the slightest pressure, keeping her gaze locked on yours.

“Then show me ,” you said softly, your voice steady, deliberate.

Her breath hitched, her hands falling back to her thighs as she lowered her gaze slightly, the flush on her cheeks deepening. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice filled with reverence. The atmosphere between you was electric, charged with anticipation as she prepared to prove herself once more, piece by piece, rebuilding what had been fractured.

Hyunjin nodded, her body visibly tense with anticipation. Her fingers moved with care, unfastening the button on your pants and sliding the zipper down. The soft sound of fabric shifting against the leather chair seemed deafening in the silence. Her breath hitched as she tugged your pants and boxers down, her cheeks flushed as you were exposed to her fully.

Her wide eyes flickered upward, a mix of nervousness and need shining in them as she hesitated for a moment. You didn’t speak, letting her feel the weight of the moment, your hand moving to rest lightly on her head. That gentle guidance was all she needed to lean forward, her lips parting as she placed a soft, tentative kiss at the base of your length. Her warm breath brushed against you as she began, her tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path upward.

Her movements grew more confident as she worked, her lips wrapping around you, taking you deeper with each pass. The soft moans that escaped her vibrated against your skin, the sound sending a jolt of heat through your body. You threaded your fingers into her hair, your grip firm but not harsh, guiding her pace as she moved with increasing fervor.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and approving. She responded immediately, her pace quickening, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. But just as the tension in the room began to build, you tightened your grip in her hair, pulling her back sharply.

“Stop,” you said firmly.

Her lips slipped off you with an audible pop, her eyes snapping up to meet yours, wide and questioning. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her hands still resting lightly on your thighs as she froze in place. The sight of her—lips glistening, cheeks flushed, her pupils blown wide with desire—sent a wave of satisfaction through you, but you held your expression steady.

“Look at it,” you commanded, your voice calm but unyielding. “Just look.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to your length. Her hands twitched against your thighs, her lips parting slightly as she stared, her breathing ragged. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air as the seconds stretched on.

“Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Not yet,” you replied, your tone firm. “You’ll wait until I say.”

Her fingers dug slightly into your thighs, her need evident in the way her body shifted, her legs pressing together subtly. The denial was working—her arousal was unmistakable, her lips trembling as she obeyed, her gaze fixed on you.

“Resume,” you said after a long moment, your hand loosening its grip on her hair.

She dove back eagerly, her mouth enveloping you with renewed fervor. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her movements quicker, more precise. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, and the soft, muffled sounds she made sent sparks of pleasure through you.

Just as her pace became frantic, you tugged on her hair again, pulling her back abruptly. Her head tilted up, her lips red and swollen, her eyes glassy with desperation. A soft whimper escaped her as she looked at you, her need etched into every line of her face.

“Stop,” you said again, your voice sharp.

“Sir,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please.”

You tilted your head slightly, observing her with quiet intensity. “Please, what?”

“Let me continue,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need to, Sir. I need to.”

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you leaned forward slightly, your thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip. “You’ll wait,” you said, your tone commanding. “Until I’m ready.”

Her body visibly trembled, her arousal spilling over into every movement. Her thighs pressed together tighter, her hands clutching at the fabric of your pants as if anchoring herself. She was desperate, her need growing with every second you held her back.

Finally, you tugged her closer pulling her head down slightly. “Resume,” you said, your voice low and rough.

She whimpered softly, the sound drenched in need, her lips parting as she immediately obeyed. Her mouth found you again, her movements feverish, as if every second away had only amplified her desperation. Her tongue glided along your length with reverence, each flick and swirl precise, her lips sealing around you as her moans vibrated against your skin. Her soft, muffled sounds filled the room, fueling the intensity of the moment. Her submission was complete, every movement a display of her devotion and longing to please.

The tension inside you built higher with every stroke, every delicate movement of her lips, her frantic need feeding your own growing pleasure. Her breath came in quick huffs through her nose as she worked, her hands lightly gripping your thighs for stability. She was utterly lost in the moment, her entire focus on serving you, and it was intoxicating.

With a firm tug on the collar, you pulled her head back once more, her lips slipping off you with a soft, breathy whine of frustration. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours, her need written plainly on her flushed face. Her breaths came in shallow, desperate gasps, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself.

"Strip," you ordered, your voice steady and commanding.

Her trembling hands immediately moved to obey, her fingers fumbling slightly in her haste as she shed her clothes. The fabric slid from her body, pooling on the floor as she stood before you, bare and vulnerable. Her skin glowed in the flickering candlelight, every curve and line of her body laid out for your gaze. She shivered, a mix of anticipation and arousal coursing through her, but she didn’t waver, her eyes cast downward in submission.

“Now, get on the bed,” you said, your tone leaving no room for hesitation. “On all fours.”

She scrambled to comply, her movements quick but deliberate, the urgency in her actions undeniable. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her as she positioned herself, her knees sinking into the plush surface. Her back arched instinctively, her head bowing submissively, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as if anchoring herself. Her breath hitched audibly as you stepped behind her, the leash in your hand taut, its tension a constant reminder of your control.

Reaching for the leash attachment on the bedside table, you let the quiet sound of metal against wood fill the room. Her body tensed at the faint clink, her breath catching as she froze in place, her anticipation palpable. The polished attachment glinted in the candlelight as you clicked it into place on her collar, the sound sharp and commanding. A tremor ran through her as the leash went taut, and you gave it a testing tug, pulling her head back slightly.

“You’ve done well,” you murmured, your free hand trailing over the curve of her spine, feeling the way her body shivered beneath your touch. “But I’m not done testing you yet.”

Her whimper was soft, her voice barely audible over the quiet tension in the room. Her hips shifted instinctively, pressing back slightly, seeking more of your touch as though her body had a will of its own. The leash in your hand grew taut as you pulled her back, her movement halted with deliberate precision. A shiver ran through her, and the small sound that escaped her lips was almost a plea, fragile and raw.

You smirked at her eagerness, letting your hand slide to her hips, gripping them firmly to keep her still. “Desperate already?” you murmured, your tone edged with amusement. The heat of your palm against her skin only heightened the tension, her trembling body betraying the effort it took to remain obedient.

Slowly, you teased her, letting the tip of you brush against her entrance, the barest touch enough to make her tense and gasp. Her thighs quivered, her breath catching audibly as her body trembled with restrained anticipation. Her need was palpable, her entire form aching for more, yet she remained frozen, holding herself steady with a visible effort that only deepened your satisfaction.

“Patience,” you said sharply, your voice slicing through her whimper. The leash tightened slightly, a reminder of your control. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice shaky yet obedient, her words punctuated by shallow, unsteady breaths.

You pressed forward just enough to enter her, your movements slow and deliberate, the sensation electric as her body responded instantly. Her muscles clenched tightly around you, a soft, broken cry escaping her lips as her fingers curled into the sheets. Her need was overwhelming, radiating from her trembling frame, yet she didn’t move, her submission absolute even as her desire consumed her.

“Don’t move,” you commanded, your tone low but firm.

“Yes, Sir,” she gasped, her voice filled with effort as she fought to remain still. Her fingers dug deeper into the sheets, her knuckles white as her body vibrated with barely restrained longing. Every breath was a struggle, her soft whimpers growing louder as you stayed motionless, letting the weight of the stillness press down on her.

But then, instinct betrayed her. Her hips shifted ever so slightly, seeking more of you, her desperation winning out for a fleeting moment. The rustle of the leash was sharp as you pulled it taut, her head jerking back as your hand came down sharply on her ass with a loud, resounding smack. She yelped, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure, her body jolting forward even as she froze in realization.

“What did I say?” you growled, your voice low and commanding, the leash a firm tether in your hand.

“Not to move,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with both need and apology.

“Then don’t,” you snapped, your tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied quickly, her words laced with desperation as she braced herself, her hands gripping the sheets tighter.

Leaning forward, you pressed in further, filling her slowly, deliberately, her sharp gasp echoing in the room as her body quivered around you. Her whimpers grew louder, her breaths shallow and uneven as her restraint began to unravel. The tension between you was palpable, the air charged with her aching desire and your unyielding control.

Again, she moved—a tiny, involuntary tilt of her hips, but it was enough. Without hesitation, you tugged the leash sharply, pulling her head back as your hand came down on her other cheek with another sharp smack. Her cry was louder this time, her body jolting beneath you as the sting radiated across her skin.

“You’ll wait until I allow it,” you said, your voice a growl. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice breaking, her body trembling as she tried to steady herself.

The leash tightened in your hand as you leaned over her, your lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” you murmured, the words low and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, let’s see if you can do better.”

You stayed still inside her, savoring the way her body clenched around you, her desperation growing with each passing second. Her soft, broken whimpers filled the room, every sound a testament to her struggle and her need. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheets, her entire body trembling with the effort to obey.

When she moved again—a subtle, instinctive tilt of her hips—you didn’t hesitate. The leash tightened sharply, pulling her head back as your hand came down once more with a sharp smack. The sound reverberated through the room, her cry echoing louder, her body jolting before falling still.

“Again?” you growled, your tone low and dangerous. “Have you not learned?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice cracking, her words tumbling out quickly. “I’ll be good. I’ll be still.”

“Prove it,” you said sharply, your grip on the leash firm, holding her exactly where you wanted her. “Show me you deserve this.”

She nodded frantically, her breaths coming in soft, broken gasps as she fought to hold herself steady. Her body quivered beneath you, every inch of her radiating need, but she didn’t move again. The leash in your hand was a constant reminder of her submission, the tension pulling her further into the moment as her fingers gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white.

You pressed into her fully, slow and deliberate, filling her completely. Her sharp gasp echoed in the room, her body instinctively clenching around you as she felt the stretch of you inside her. But you didn’t move. You held her there, buried deep, the weight of the stillness pressing down on her.

“Do you want me to move?” you asked, your voice low, calm, and teasing.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please.”

You stayed perfectly still as the tension built between you. Without warning, you twitched inside her, the subtle movement making her entire body jolt. A broken whimper spilled from her lips, her thighs trembling as she clenched around you again, her breath shaky.

“Is that what you wanted?” you asked, your tone almost mocking.

“More,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “Please, Sir. Give me more.”

Another twitch. Her cry was louder this time, her back arching slightly as the sensation rippled through her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her entire body quivering with desperation.

“Why should be so generous?” you murmured, your voice calm, almost curious. “Have you earned it?”

“I—I’ll earn it,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Sir, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry. Please.”

You leaned over her slightly, the leash in your hand taut as your free hand slid down her back, your touch soft, teasing. “Anything?” you asked, your lips brushing against her ear.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Anything.”

Her body tensed as she waited, anticipation written in every trembling muscle. Then, you twitched again, the small, deliberate movement sending another jolt of sensation through her. Her cry was a mix of frustration and arousal, her thighs pressing together as she fought to stay still.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raw and desperate. “Please, Sir, I’ll be good. I won’t move. Just—please.”

Her desire was palpable, her submission complete as body trembled beneath you. You stayed still for a long moment, letting her desperation simmer, the leash pulling her head back slightly as a reminder of your control.

Finally, you pulled back all the way, the cool air brushing between you as her breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her entire form taut, waiting for your next move. Without warning, you thrust into her fully, your entire length filling her in one deliberate motion. A loud cry escaped her lips, raw and unrestrained, her body clenching tightly around you in response. But she stayed completely still, every muscle tense, holding herself in perfect submission despite the overwhelming sensation.

You stayed there, buried deep inside her, your hand trailing down her back in a slow, soothing motion. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, her entire body trembling with the effort to hold herself still. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and warm, laced with pride. “You listened this time.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steady, filled with quiet gratitude. Her submission radiated from every inch of her body, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Slowly, you pulled back again, her breath catching as she braced herself. Then, without warning, you thrust into her a second time, your motion smooth and deliberate, your entire length filling her completely. Her cry was louder this time, her voice breaking as her body clenched around you again. But once more, she didn’t move. She held herself perfectly still, her submission unwavering, her breath shaky as she fought the overwhelming sensations.

The leash in your hand stayed taut, keeping her aligned with your control, her body bent to your will. You leaned forward slightly, your breath warm against the back of her neck as you murmured, “That’s what I wanted to see. You’re doing so well.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with relief and pride.

This time, you began to move, your pace slow and deliberate, the shift a clear and deliberate reward for her obedience. The relief in her voice was almost tangible, her muffled cries spilling out with each thrust, each sound a testament to the weight lifted from her desperation. Her body responded instinctively, perfectly aligned with your rhythm, the curve of her back arching as though offering herself entirely to you.

The leather leash in your hand stayed taut, a constant tether to her submission, its tension drawing her further into the moment. Each measured thrust pressed her hips forward, only for her to press back with a growing urgency, her movements eager yet restrained, still seeking your permission in every motion. The slick heat of her enveloped you completely, her body clinging with a fervent need that made the air between you crackle with intensity.

Her cries grew louder, each sound a mix of pleasure and surrender, her voice rising in raw emotion with every deliberate thrust. Your grip on the leash tightened, and you pulled her head back sharply, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. Her neck arched beautifully, her vulnerability on full display as she submitted to the pull of the leather.

In a fluid motion, you wrapped the supple leash around her head, positioning it snugly between her lips. The soft leather pressed firmly into her mouth, transforming her cries into muffled, broken sounds of pleasure and need. The gagged whimpers and desperate breaths filled the room, blending with the rhythmic sound of your movements. Her body trembled beneath you, every shudder and quiver a display of her surrender, her raw need laid bare.

"This," you murmured, your voice low and edged with a commanding roughness as you leaned in, your lips grazing the delicate curve of her ear. "This is who you truly are," you continued, your breath warm against her skin, each word sinking into her like a brand. "Your best self," you whispered, the possessiveness in your tone undeniable, each syllable deliberate, drawing her deeper into the moment. "Completely mine."

Her muffled response was unintelligible but filled with emotion, her entire body reacting to the weight of your claim. Her hands gripped the sheets with white-knuckled intensity, her nails scraping against the fabric as her body buckled beneath the steady, purposeful rhythm you set. The leather pressed into her lips, the tension in the leash anchoring her fully in the moment, as if nothing else in the world existed except your control and her submission.

Her cries reached a fever pitch as you slowed abruptly, pressing deep inside her and holding completely still. The sudden lack of motion made her freeze, her muffled whines of frustration breaking the quiet tension in the room. She clenched around you instinctively, her body desperate for the friction and release that had been so cruelly denied. Her desperation filled the air, thick and electric, as she quivered beneath you.

“You don’t get to cum until I give you permission,” you growled, your voice low and commanding. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice shaky, her words muffled by the leash pressing against her lips. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought to obey, every fiber of her being screaming for relief. Her body trembled violently, her thighs quivering as she remained perfectly still, holding herself together only through sheer willpower.

You began to move again, deliberately slow, each thrust measured and purposeful. Her muffled cries grew louder, her hips instinctively pressing back into you, desperate to match your rhythm, to take more of you. But each time her movements matched yours, you slowed again, the leash taut in your hand a constant reminder of her place.

"Patience," you said sharply, landing a firm slap on her ass. The sound echoed in the room, followed by a sharp gasp as she jolted slightly under your touch. Her body trembled, the sting blooming across her skin as a mix of pain and pleasure heightened her arousal.

You smirked at her reaction and spanked her again, your hand coming down with enough force to draw a muffled cry from her lips. Her muscles tightened around you, her body reacting instinctively as her breath hitched. “You take what I give you, nothing more, nothing less” you ordered, your voice a low growl.

She nodded frantically, her breaths ragged as her body trembled with the effort to obey. Her submission sent a thrill through you, and you rewarded her with another deliberate spank, your palm landing squarely on her other cheek. Her cry was louder this time, her body jolting forward as the sensation spread through her.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your tone approving but firm. “I can feel how much you want it. Is this all it takes to make you fall apart?”

Her muffled cries grew more frantic as you thrust into her again, slow but deep, her body tensing with every motion. The deliberate pace was maddening, designed to keep her on edge without letting her tip over. You spanked her once more, the sound of the impact followed by a sharp whimper that was pure need.

Then, leaning over her, you tugged the leash tighter, tilting her head back. Your breath was warm against her ear as you growled, “Where do you deserve my cum?”

Her muffled response was immediate, frantic. “Inside, Sir,” she gasped, her voice trembling as her hips instinctively pressed back against you. “Please, Sir, inside. Fill me.”

You smirked, leaning closer, your voice low and teasing as you asked, “Do you think you’ve earned that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll be good—I’ll do anything. Please, Sir, I need it.”

You spanked her again, the sharp smack drawing a broken cry from her lips. Her body jolted, her thighs trembling as she clenched tightly around you. “Then beg for it,” you commanded, your voice thick with authority.

“Please, Sir,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with emotion as she broke completely. “Please let me have it. I’ll do anything—I’m yours. Please let me feel it.”

Tightening your grip on the leash, you thrust into her slowly, deeply, savoring the way her body trembled beneath you. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice a low rumble against her ear. “You’ve earned it.”

Your pace quickened, each thrust deliberate and deep as the tension between you reached its peak. Her muffled cries turned to sobs of relief and pleasure, her body responding instinctively as she gave herself over completely. The connection between you was electric, her submission feeding your control as the leash stayed taut in your hand, keeping her exactly where you wanted her.

Leaning closer, your voice dropping to a low growl. “Who do you belong to?” you demanded, the authority in your tone leaving no room for hesitation.

“You, Sir,” she gasped, her voice trembling but resolute, her entire body arching under your control.

You thrust harder, making her cry out as you repeated, “Say it again.”

“You, Sir! Only you!” she sobbed, her voice raw with submission as her body shuddered.

"Good," you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction as you leaned in closer, tightening your grip on the leash-turned-gag. The leather pressed snugly between her lips, muffling her cries as her body quivered beneath you. "Never forget it."

You didn’t give her time to respond. Your hips began to move with unrelenting purpose, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of your movements and her muffled cries, raw and desperate, vibrating through the leather gag. Her body arched beneath you, trembling with the effort to hold herself steady, her fingers clutching the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Her thighs quivered as she clenched around you, her body reacting instinctively to your relentless pace. Each sharp motion drew another muffled moan from her lips, her cries growing higher, more frantic, as her body teetered closer to the edge. The leash stayed taut in your hand, pulling her head back just enough to keep her perfectly aligned to your will.

Her entire form shook beneath you, her body taut with tension as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Her muffled sounds became a pleading melody, her desperation spilling out with every motion as her submission deepened. You could feel the way she clenched tighter, her body begging for permission even without words, every inch of her crying out for release.

You pulled the leash back, the leather taut between your fingers, leaning into her ear as your voice dropped to a sharp, commanding growl. “Now. Cum for me.”

Her release was immediate, her body convulsing beneath you as a muffled scream tore from her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her walls clenched tightly around you, the intensity of her climax gripping you like a vice, pulling a guttural groan from your throat. Her limbs shook uncontrollably, her strength failing as her muscles gave out. Her body became weightless against the collar, her submission leaving her completely at your mercy.

The leash in your hand became a lifeline, pulling her back as her head tilted, her breath hitching in sobbing gasps. Each wave of her release rolled through her, leaving her trembling and arching into you, her body unable to do anything but feel. Her fingers clawed weakly at the sheets before falling away entirely, her arms limp, her legs shaking so violently they could no longer support her weight.

You didn’t let up, your thrusts deep and deliberate, each motion designed to draw every ounce of her climax from her quivering body. Her walls pulsed around you, the sensation almost too much as she squeezed tighter with every tremor, her body desperately holding onto you. The heat of her, the way her back arched instinctively, and the desperate, muffled cries that spilled from her lips pushed you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” you growled, your voice low and rough, satisfaction lacing every word as her sobs softened, her trembling body still clenched tightly around you. Leaning over her, your breath brushed her ear, sending a shiver through her overstimulated form. “Take it all.”

Her submission fueled your own release, the way she surrendered entirely to the moment, her body collapsing beneath you. You thrust into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as possible as the pleasure surged through you, your groan low and primal as your release hit. The sensation of filling her completely, the warmth of it spreading between you, sent another shockwave through her. Her body tensed again, her climax reigniting in perfect rhythm with yours, her walls tightening and pulsing as if to draw every drop from you.

Her muffled cries broke into breathless sobs, her body trembling violently as the overwhelming sensation left her utterly undone. The collar pressed firmly against her neck, grounding her even as her limbs refused to obey her, her submission total. Each pulse of your release seemed to extend her own, the shared intensity forging a connection so powerful it felt as though the air around you crackled with it.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, you stayed buried inside her, the weight of your body pressing her into the mattress. The leash remained taut in your hand, a steady reminder of her surrender, the collar snug against her flushed skin. Her body slowly relaxed, her trembling subsiding into soft, uneven breaths, her whimpers barely audible as her submission became absolute.

You leaned down, your lips brushing softly against the back of her neck, your breath warm and soothing as it ghosted over her flushed skin. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with satisfaction. “You took it so well.” The heat between you lingered, a tangible reminder of the bond you had just reaffirmed, the connection pulsing in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Her voice was a trembling whisper, filled with gratitude and exhaustion. “Thank you, Sir.”

You loosened your grip on the leash slightly, one hand sliding soothingly along her back as her breathing steadied. The quiet weight of the shared moment settled over both of you, a tangible understanding of control, devotion, and the bond that held you together. Her body relaxed beneath you, pliant and trusting, the tension of the night ebbing away.

As you moved to release the binding and settle beside her, she surprised you. Slowly, shakily, she pushed herself up, her limbs trembling with effort, and turned to face you. Her knees met the floor, her movements reverent despite her exhaustion. She knelt there, her gaze steady but soft, shining with unspoken emotion as she clasped her hands lightly in front of her.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her voice wavering but firm, her head bowing slightly in deference. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I’ll never take it for granted again.”

The sincerity in her tone struck something deep within you, her submission layered with gratitude and determination. You reached out, cupping her face gently in your hand, tilting her chin so her eyes met yours. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the depth of her devotion reflected back in her gaze.

“I believe you,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over her cheek as her eyes glistened with unspoken emotion. “And I’ll hold you to that promise.”

The connection between you was palpable, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling like a balm over the intensity of everything that had come before. As she knelt there, a renewed sense of trust and devotion radiating from her, you felt the unbreakable bond between you solidify once more.

You reached down, your fingers brushing lightly against her chin as you guided her off her knees. Her body moved with a hesitant grace, her legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She followed your lead without question, her wide eyes flicking up to meet yours, silently searching for reassurance as you helped her onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she settled, her hands clutching the sheets tightly, knuckles whitening as though anchoring herself.

When you reached toward the collar around her neck, her breath hitched audibly, her entire body going rigid beneath your touch. “Sir…” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “Please… don’t take it off. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Her plea was laced with desperation, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as her gaze darted between your hands and your face, searching for any hint of mercy. A small, involuntary shiver ran through her, and her fingers twitched against the sheets, her need to hold onto the collar palpable.

You paused deliberately, your hand still resting against the cool leather. Leaning closer, you met her panicked gaze, your voice calm but firm, the tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t punishment,” you said, your breath warm as it ghosted over her cheek. “You’ve earned it back, but I need to take care of you first.”

The words hung in the air, steady and unyielding, and her resolve cracked just slightly. She nodded, swallowing hard, the submission in her posture softening into trust as she tilted her head, baring her neck for you. Even as she complied, her lips parted as though she wanted to speak again, but no words came. Her breathing quickened as the soft click of the buckle echoed in the room, impossibly loud against the quiet backdrop. You slipped the collar off carefully, her skin faintly red where the leather had rested. The collar felt heavier in your hand than usual as you set it on the bedside table, its presence a silent promise.

Her gaze followed the collar until it was out of sight, her trembling form still taut with unspoken emotion. Before she could voice any of it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the now-bare skin of her neck. The first kiss was featherlight, your breath warm and soothing against her flushed skin, a deliberate reassurance. Her body shivered beneath you, a soft, involuntary sound escaping her lips as you began to trail kisses along the delicate curve of her neck.

Each kiss was purposeful, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of heat in their wake. You felt her breath catch, the tension in her shoulders melting under the tender press of your lips. When you reached the sensitive spot beneath her ear, you lingered, your teeth grazing her skin gently before sucking just enough to leave a faint mark. Her gasp was sharp, her hands tightening their grip on the sheets as a visible shudder ran through her.

“These,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and possessive, “will be your substitute until tomorrow. A reminder of who you belong to.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with emotion. Her body sank deeper into the bed as you continued, your mouth leaving faint marks that dotted her neck like a constellation of your claim. Each kiss was deliberate, your teeth grazing her skin just enough to send another wave of sensation coursing through her. By the time you finished, her breaths were shallow, her body completely relaxed, her submission absolute.

Satisfied, you reached for the lotion on the bedside table, the faint scent of vanilla filling the air as you warmed it between your palms. “Lift your chin,” you instructed gently, your tone soft but commanding. She obeyed instantly, her head tilting back to expose the expanse of her neck, her trust in you evident in the way she remained perfectly still.

The cool lotion met her heated skin, and she shivered under your touch, the contrast heightening her awareness of the care you were giving her. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, smoothing the lotion over the faint redness left by the collar. Each stroke was tender, soothing, a tactile affirmation of her worth and your devotion.

When you finished, you leaned in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “Tomorrow,” you promised, your voice steady, carrying the weight of your conviction. “You’ll wear it again.”

Her voice broke slightly as she whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

You stayed close, your hands resting lightly on her shoulders as her breathing steadied. The room settled into a quiet hum of intimacy, the bond between you unspoken but profound. The collar rested nearby, waiting for its return, but the marks you left on her skin and the care you had shown were enough to remind her of everything she had earned.

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