#trying not to look at all the rough parts

[lowkeyerror]

Ours Together pt 2

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: Graphic depictions of violence, could be described as slight gore, more hurt/comfort, fluff, hopeful ending (i think), protective Rio and Agatha

Summary: With the three of you on the same page, walking the road should've been a cake walk. However things take a turn, when you end up with your own trial.

An: Yall asked for a part 2 so you know I had to deliver 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Part 1 | Masterlist

Waking up in between Rio and Agatha brought a small smile to your face. It’s a luxury that you thought was long forgotten. You were careful to rise without waking them. Your back cracked as you stretched, the ground of the road was not comfortable in the slightest.

“So you’re a familiar?” Lilia speaks, staring cautiously.

The way your eyes cut over to her is soft. It’s softer than you want it to be. You look at the ground and then the sky, deciding not to look at the witch.

“Yep,” a rough sigh comes out with the simple word.

“It typical that familiars have a second form. A pet or a-"

“Do they look like pet owners to you?”

The others begin to stir, before the conversation can go any further. You’re grateful for the interruption. You were not here to dig in to your past. Well, not any more than reigniting your relationship with Rio and Agatha.

“Look alive, witches. Let’s get this show on the road,” Agatha yawns as the words leave her mouth.

Though you’d rather do anything else, you prepare yourself for the journey.

“What’s wrong?” Rio falls into step with you as you begin to walk the road.

“I still don't want to be here,” you admit kicking some of the dirt up with your heel.

Rio takes your hand in hers, “We can leave whenever you want.”

You dismiss the thought with exasperation, “I’m not abandoning Agatha.”

Rio squeezes your hand, “I don’t want to leave her either, but I don’t want you to be burdened by whatever this is.”

“Woah,” Alice’s voice, makes you look away from Rio.

The other witches also stop, most with their mouths agape. The sight before them unfathomable. This was drastic change from the other trial they had come in contact with.

Instead of a house, there was large mansion. The building was purely white with gold accents. The pillars that stood on each side of the building seemed to go all the way.

The color leaves your face staring at the building. You drop to the ground and begin to scramble away from the building. You shake your head vigorously. Your eyes wide in horror, you try to find the breath in your lungs but you struggle.

“No, no, no, no,” you begin to mutter under your breath.

Agatha and Rio are by your side at a moments notice. Agatha’s hands rest on your face and you can feel Rio’s arm wrap around you.

“Breathe baby,” Rio whispers in your ear.

You search Agatha’s face frantically, “Agatha, I can’t… I can’t. I’m not even a witch, I’m not in the coven. Why?”

“It’s not real, sweetheart. We know it’s not real,” she whispers for only you and Rio to hear.

You close your eyes and begin nodding your head. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the feelings of their hands on you.

“I’m guessing this is her trial,” Jen says, breaking the moment between the three of you.

Agatha glares at the witch, “She’s not going in there.”

Teen interrupts, “I don’t think that’s how the road works.”

The scowl on her face only deepens, “Then make it work Teen. She’s not a witch, she’s not in the coven, she shouldn’t have a trial.”

Alice interferes, “Is it possible it’s not her trial? The three of you are close.. could it be Rio’s or Agatha’s.”

“It would be mine, if not hers,” Rio offers up.

Lilia interrupts, “We have to go into this trial.”

“NO!” Your voice didn’t boom when you yelled, instead it cracked in desperation.

The conversation dies there, but not because of your outburst. You feel the energy shift all around you.

“The seven are coming,” Agatha mumbles under her breath.

“Nope,” Jen immediately turns to run into the building.

Lilia goes in after Jen. Alice and Teen hesitate, but they follow the other two women forward.

You can hear the seven getting closer.

“My love, we must move forward,” Agatha tries to hide her panic, but you see through it.

“We will protect you,” Rio helps you to your feet.

You look behind you, the seven quickly approaching. You look at the building once more, before rushing ahead inside.

Agatha looks at Rio, “Take her out if things get too much.”

Rio shakes her head, “We do not know the repercussions of leaving in the middle of a trial.”

“We both know what happens in there Rio. I can’t bare to see it.”

Rio grabs Agatha’s hand as they rush towards the building together, “She is stronger than we give her credit for.”

As they enter the building a bright light almost blinds them. They see the coven members dressed in all white. Most of them having full halos. Agatha looks similar. Rio however is dawning an all black hooded cloak. If it weren’t for your distress, she would’ve laughed.

The clothes felt wrong against your skin. There wasn’t much around. The walls were painted with clouds. The only other thing in the mansion was staircase in the middle of the room. It looked like it led nowhere, but you knew better.

“Where’s the trial? Do we just get to leave?” Teen says focusing on the stairs.

You try to keep your breathing normal, “Just give me a minute. I know what we have to do.”

“What is this place?” Alice looks around.

Lilia’s eyes sparkle, “I think this is Heaven.”

The coven turns their attention to you.

“Are you-”

Agatha interferes, “We’re already in the trial, save your questions to the end.”

Rio adds on, “Or better yet, don't ask any questions.”

“Let’s get this over with,” you wipe your hands on the white pants.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs. Agatha stand on the left and Rio on your right. The link their arms through yours.

“Up we go,” Agatha directs the coven.

When you get to the top, you can see an abyss waiting for you at the bottom. You can’t see the bottom, and you know what you have to do.

“It’s easier if you don’t look,” you turn your back to the abyss.

“Are you seriously just going to-”

Before Jen finishes her question you are leaning back first into the abyss. Your lovers at your side trusting you completely. The rest of the coven is hesitant, but they eventually all jump into the hole.

It's like you’re being pulled down. It feels like it’s never going to stop. When it does, it’s abrupt. You’re expecting flames and heat, but instead there’s only dirt around you.

The space is shaped like a cylinder. There’s a gracious amount of space. The floors and walls were both constructed of dirt. You looked at the ceiling and it too seemed to be dirt. It was like you all were buried alive.

“Take me back upstairs,” Lilia says looking around the dark and dirt filled hole.

“So, Y/n what now?” They turn to you, looking for guidance.

You use your hands to dig into the ground. You pull out a scroll.

“How did you-”

“Where else would it have been?” You snap at the Teen.

Rio peers over your shoulder, “Fly free with your clipped wings or submit to the sin of the earth.”

The dirt begins to rise as Rio finishes reading the paper. You look up again, this time being able to catch a glimpse of the white room where you had come from.

“Taking us down, to go right back up. How clever,” Agatha says.

“So is now the time we ask the questions?”

“Stand back,” you ignore the question, hoping to get this over with quickly.

The group listens to you. With much discomfort you pushed out the muscles on your back. There were a few loud pops and cracks. You bit your tongue to mask the pain. Your wings popped out and everyone in the room gawked.

“They’re-”

“White?” Rio says with confusion.

You wrapped them around your body, surprised to see white wings sprouting from your back.

“Questions later, fly up,” Agatha says and you do as she instructs.

You begin to flap your wings, dirt flying about in the space. You shoot up to the exit in less than 5 seconds. Instead of freedom you find yourself smacking hard against a piece of glass. You pound on it, hoping to break it.

“I can’t break it,” you call back down.

“Then we’re missing something,” Jen calls out.

The dirt begins to rise in the room at a faster pace.

“Start digging, maybe we’ll find something else,” Teen starts digging, the rest follows.

“Shit,” you hear Agatha cry out.

You decide to fly back down. You land close to her. “What is it?”

She pulls a pair of scissors out of the ground. Her palm bleeding from the cut on her hands.

You scramble back again.

“Didn’t it say something about clipped wings?” Alice recalls.

“That’s why they’re white,” Agatha connects the dots.

“Fuck no,” Rio stands in front of you. “I’m not letting you clip her wings.”

“We’re going to die,” Teen argues with the Death.

Agatha shares a look with Rio, “Get her out of here.”

You shake your head, “No, I’m not leaving you here. Give me the scissors.”

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” Rio tries to reason with you.

“Just heal the wounds when it’s over,” you say to her softly.

Agatha still has the scissors in hand, “I won’t let you.”

You get close to her. Your hand reaching for the scissors as you lean in. You can see her squeezing them firmly in her grip, deepening the cut in her hand.

“It’s not real,” you whisper to her just like she had done with you outside.

Her grip loosens just enough for you to pull the scissors from her hand. The dirt is piled at the mid thigh level now.

You once again fold your wings over your body. You turn your head to get a good look at your back. Your eyes follow the seam of where your back is lined with your wings.

Your hand shakes as you open the scissors, opting to use them like a letter opener. The nerves are piling up inside you. Your eyes close and you get a glimpse of your past. You see yourself kneeled over in pain with your back covered in blood.

“We’re running out of time,” Lilia says, as the dirt begins to climb higher.

You scream as you cut off your wing in one swift motion. The pain makes you want to fall to your knees , but its impossible with the dirt surrounding you. Tears fall rapidly as blood pours from your back. Snot drips from your nose as you sob at the pain.

You’re in too much pain to notice, but the dirt begins to rise at a slower pace. No one is happy, or joyful as they look at you in agony.

“Fuck,” you mutter as your body shakes violently at the pain.

The scissors had slipped from your hand at the sheer force you made the cut with.

“Rio,” it comes out of your mouth through gritted teeth. She’s close to you, and you know she carries a blade. “I- you have to do the other one.”

Rio’s eyes widen, “ I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please, my love. I- I can’t die like this. Please, I just got you back, please.”

Your pleading breaks Rio’s heart. This didn’t feel fake, it was real. The wound pouring from your back, the tears in your eyes. The panicked look in Agatha’s face as she watched this unfold. The suffering felt real.

Rio pulls her dagger out, wading through the sand to get right behind you. It was hard, with the sand covering most of her torso. The sand burned as it pressed into your open wound.

Rio’s hard was cool and soft as it touched the bottom of your wing. She felt through the sand to find the seam of the wings. Once she found it she took a deep breath.

“Forgive me, my love,” her cut was much more swift than yours.

You fell forward as the yelled ripped through you throat. It burned your esophagus. You folded forward, Rio’s arms try to hold you from underneath your stomach, not wishing to touch your back.

The wings lay in the dirt beside you. The dirt that had covered everyone started to sink down back into the ground. Once it was all gone, one side of the wall began to open up. Stairs appeared, indicating the trial was over.

Rio is quick to carry you out of the trial and back on to the road. She hopes that bringing you back to the road will erase the injuries. However as she feels the blood coating her clothes, she knows they are here to stay.

She lays you on your stomach and you groan. She straddles the back of your legs. The weight of her is lost on you, all you can feel is the burning from where your wings were supposed to be. You squirm under her when her tongue connects with your back.

She licks the brutal cuts on your back, the taste of your blood clouds her thoughts, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Her own tears gather as she waits for the wounds to heal.

Agatha rushes to her side, “Is she going to be ok?”

Rio holds her breath, but as she sees the wounds slowly closing she nods, “She’s going to be ok.”

Agatha pulls Rio into a chaste kiss, “Are you ok?”

Rio’s forehead rest against Agatha’s, “No, I’m not.”

The rest of the coven watches the scene unfold with intrigue.

“So your familiar is an angel?” Teen can’t help, but ask.

You whine under Rio as you feel a new pain simmer in your back.

“Off,” you mutter, and Rio gets off of you.

You stay laying as you feel a well-known ache spread through your body. You dig your palms into the ground and let out a huff of irritation. In the spots that Rio had just healed, a set of wings popped out.

This time, they were black like tar. It hurt just as much as before. You prop yourself on your knee before standing to your full height. Just like when your voice had echoed, your eyes were purely black.

“I was an angel,” your voice vibrates through the road.

“What happened?” Jen asks, mesmerized by your wings.

Agatha and Rio are seconds away from forbidding the coven from asking questions. You use your wings to bring them into your sides.

“I fell in love. The higher ups, said it was… impure. Which was a falsehood; there had been nothing in my life or after that was as pure as this love. They wanted to have me banished to hell. I was ungrateful, wasting my eternal happiness by fraternizing with… Rio.”

“Why not Agatha?” Alice questions.

You look at Rio, who gives you a nod, “They didn't like my relationship with Agatha much either, if I’m being honest. Rio was different, forbidden because she is Lady Death.”

The coven members all look to Rio, their eyes wide in shock. Rio simply waves her up, wiggling her fingers in response, “Guilty.”

Lilia speaks next, “But if you’re her familiar, why would your relationship be an issue?”

“I wasn’t her familiar then,” you explain. “I became Agatha’s and Rio’s familiar because Rio interfered during my banishment ceremony. These ceremonies were somewhat of a public shaming. My wings had been forcefully yanked out of my back. Brute strength just ripped them right out of my back. They were in the middle of speaking when she appeared. I’ve never seen her so furious, yelling at Life and God and the other angels. She made an offer for my soul.”

Rio clicks her tongue a few times, “No, no I made a threat. They were going to give me your soul or I would take every soul that passed to hell. There would’ve been no more angels. A demon uprising would've been imminent. They didn't really have a choice.”

“Wait, I know this story. An angel who was swayed by darkness due for banishment, but saved by Death itself. You’re the first fallen angel,” Teen speaks enthusiastically.

You chuckle, “Not exactly the first, there’s one before me, but I am the first with this look. The black wings, dark eyes, echoing voice.”

“So what happened after you threatened them?” Jen is extremely invested.

“She took me to Agatha. I was powerless without my wings. They were trying to figure out what to do. When Rio went to heal the wounds they left on me, we didn't expect new wings to sprout, but they did. The power was different, stronger. They helped me navigate it.”

“It took us some time to realize what the agreement meant for her. They did not believe in our relationship, which is why they made her our familiar. It was a punishment,” Agatha adds some more context.

“How is that a punishment?” Teen’s confusion shines through.

“It burns to be away from them. Literally boils my insides,” your wings fold back into your back.

“Ok, kids, question time is over. We’re setting up camp for the night,” Agatha claps her hands together.

You can see them want to protest, but an eyebrow raise from Rio quiets them all. They begin to set up a camp similar to the night before.

“Come with us,” Rio tugs at your arm.

You follow her and Agatha away from the rest of the coven.

When you feel like you’re far enough from the rest. Your shoulders slump and your body trembles, getting the last of the aches out.

The two witches stop both worried for you.

“I’m fine,” you say softly.

Agatha can’t help but pull you into her, “You’re not, neither of you are. I think it’s time you left the road.”

Your head rests on her shoulder. Your lips press a gentle kiss against her neck, “I don't want to spend any time apart. Especially now.”

Rio is careful as she presses her front against your back, wrapping her arms around you. You grab her arms pulling her flush against you. The warmth of the two women, soothes the aches in your body.

“Baby,” Rio tries.

“Just hold me for a few minutes, please,” you beg the both of them.

The both tighten their grip.

“We’re not going anywhere sweetheart,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“Not ever,” Rio doubles down.

You breathe them in. Finding comfort in their presence. Agatha’s hand find a place in your hair, rubbing the tension away. You lay your hands over Rio’s keeping them against your skin.

“Aggie what do you need from this place?” You whisper against her skin.

“My purple.”

You raise your head to stare at her, “I can get them to blast you. Then we can all go home, together.”

“I tried that already, sweetheart. They know about my powers,” she admits to you.

“What if there's nothing at the end of this? We don't know what this is?” Rio tries to reason.

Agatha meets Rio’s gaze, “I do know what this is, you know too. We all know that the road isn’t real. Yet, here we are standing on it, going through trials. This magic is familiar to me, the sigil prevents it, but I know who that boy is. He’s just like his mother.”

“We can find another coven,” you suggest.

Agatha lets out a humorless laugh, “My reputation proceeds me, sweetheart. There are no more witches who wish to gather with me. Lilia, I trust her divination. This is the only way.”

“Then we have to stay,” you turn around to look at Rio.

Rio averts her gaze, “We must go after the next trial.”

You steel your gaze, “Why?”

The Green Witch looks to Agatha for help.

“Sweetheart, it’s not safe here. You just had to clip your own wings. Rio has work to do, and she can’t do it in here. Go with her and I will see you when this is over.”

“Agatha, I-"

She kisses you, softly, “I will come back to you. I won’t be going anywhere. It will be us three, I promise.”

“One more trial don’t say goodbye yet,” you say against her lips.

“I’m never going to say goodbye again, ok? It’s just a promise to meet later.”

You look at Rio, “And we’re staying together, right.”

Rio’s hand reach to cup your face. Her eyes are serious when they look into yours, “I’m never leaving you again.”

You press your lips hers, need seeping through your kiss. When you break the kiss, you find yourself between the two women again.

“Let’s get back to the camp, and rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted, sweetheart.”

“Carry me?” You ask.

Agatha rolls her eyes but scoops you up anyway . You hang on to her like a koala causing Rio to laugh.

“You have wings,” Agatha grumbles.

You nuzzle deeper into her, “They’re not as comfortable as your arms.”

“She got you there, my love,” Rio moves in closer to walk shoulder to shoulder with Agatha.

“You’re carrying her next time.”

The three of you share a laugh. A nice moment to end a chaotic couple of hours. The stress of the road ahead not lost on you, just pushed aside for a moment. There had been enough pain for the day. You didn’t want to dwell on the near future, opting instead to think of the moment it was over. When you’d finally get to have Rio and Agatha to yourself.

[bunnys-kisses]

the dnf club (vol. 2)

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, rough sex, frustration, rough sex, modified doggy style, semi-public/closet sex, quiet sex

a/n: this is a little series of one shot fics because these poor guys all got dnfs at the brazil gp! this one in particular was inspired by an ask i got in my inbox after the gp! so thank you lovely anon! <3

carlos edition // alex edition // lance edition // nico edition

franco knew that his seat was still hanging in the balance. it felt like formula one was going through drivers faster than anything. one wrong move and they were out, replaced with another hopeful, who may or may not yield the same results.

it left the argentinian in a state of anxiety. after talks with the team you came over to him with a frown on your face. you weren't upset that he had to sit out of the race. but rather upset that he was upset. and when you collided into him and wrapped your arms around him tightly.

he simply held onto you a little tighter.

you ended up in the supply closet close to the williams garage. you ended up up against a wall of shelves with your skirt pushed up to expose the roundness of your ass.

"franco." you swallowed as you heard the unzip of his uniform. you couldn't see him, but you could only imagine the look on his face. you knew he was riled up, beyond upset at his weekend.

you believed he was a future champion, a hopefully for 2025. you knew he beat himself up a little more than more established drivers. he was still a small fish in a big pond. any dnfs could hinder a promise of a career.

"please." he said, "let me." his hand grazed the roundness of your ass before he took your panties and pulled them down to your ankles, "nothing more i need right now than you, my love." he then kissed the center of your clothed back.

you were in a williams t-shirt tucked into your skirt, not to mention the bracelet you made from plastic beads that spelled out his name. you looked like a real fan girl, and in fairness, you were franco's number one fan. (on top of being his girlfriend).

he admired your backside, as much as he would've loved to get you full undressed and admire your naked beauty. you two had to be quick. he could admire you when you got back to the hotel room.

"you're so beautiful." he admired as he ran a hand up the side of your thigh, "i want you so badly. i always want you." he shuddered with want as he sank his cock into you with heated affection. fucking with his driver's suit still on was a bit of a challenge as his fireproofs stuck to his skin as he got hotter.

you replied, "you always have me, franco." you quickly covered your mouth with your hand as to not be too loud. you didn't want the team to find your boyfriend's cock inside of you.

franco felt better when he started to move against you. with the thump of his chest as he battered his cock against your sweet core. he pressed his cheek up against your back as he moved your foot up against a lower shelf to get the best angle of your sticky sweet cunt. he panted heavily against your clothed back as he continued to rut against you.

"you'll win it next time, my love." you said with a bit of strain in your voice as he moved up against you. you felt a swirl of hear in your head as he moved up against you. you loved the feeling and the risk of being caught only added a rush to your system.

he kissed your back before he rested his cheek against your once more, he had you positioned in a way that allowed him to sink his cock into the deepest parts of you. he could feel your racing heartbeat against his back and it made his cock twitch. he needed you, he wanted you, every way he could have you. he was still wound up from the dnf, but being with you alleviated a bit of the emotional pain.

how could he upset when he had his lovely girlfriend's pussy to fuck?

you were trying to hold onto the shelves for some sort of leverage, you felt the hammering in your chest as the sounds of sex filled the small space. you felt heated, your hair stuck to places you didn't want it to. you covered your mouth once more to keep from being too loud. the waves of heat across your skin as the two of you fucked like rabbits in a supply closet.

you squeaked a little when you heard people walking by. their voiced muffled by the door, and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep yourself quiet. franco only fucked you harder, bouncing you up against his cock with a heated want. you felt the pleasure flood your brain and when the people on the other side of the door were further away, a stray moan left your lips.

franco groaned a little bit against your back, "when we get back to the hotel room." he whispered, "i want you screaming with how good i make you feel." and that only made you wetter.

you nodded and held onto the metal shelves a little tighter. you could feel something made of plastic dig into your skin. but there was little time to worry about that. franco decorated your neck with kisses, when his lips grazed the back of your neck you felt your nipples grow hard, they rubbed up against your bra which only fueled your pleasure.

while this wasn't the ideal place to fuck, it was something exciting. which only spurred you both on. franco's pace became brutal as he whispered in your ear, "all mine." he said, "you know that. no one else would let me take out all the anger out on them. all my frustration. that's why you're my number one. i love you more than anything." he wrapped his arms around your middle and bounced you onto his cock, "only you."

a few things clattered around on the shelves and you let out a moan, you almost made you lip bleed as you bit down on it as to not be painfully loud. even though there was more commotion outside, you didn't want to draw attention to your sexual escapade in the supply closet.

you prayed that no one needed an extra rag or a spare wrench while franco's cock was buried into you. at least your lover had the decency to lock the door. allowing a bit more privacy. regardless of it all, you felt the immense pleasure in your core. you felt the heat between you two.

your noises were muffled, and your breathing got heavier. franco's pace staggered and the two of you were rutting against one another with a frantic need for climax. you could find soft intimacy somewhere where curious eyes won't listen in.

his strong arms around you as he thrusted up into you made you feel protected. you felt the swim of pleasure in your core as the two of you continued to move against one another. it was a heated euphoria that soon found its climax.

you clamped a hand over your mouth once more and squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body tensed and you almost lost your balance as you came around his cock. franco could make out you saying his name which only encouraged him to keep fucking you.

his cock was slick with your wetness, sticky to the touch as it dripped down to the base of his cock. he knew the front of his driver's suit was a mess. he'd need to change before he got shoved in front of the press. with a few more heavy strokes he finished inside of you. his jaw tense as he tried to keep himself quiet from the gut punch of pleasure.

you rested further against the shelves and franco against your back. it wasn't long before he pulled out and tucked himself back into his suit. with your panties back on and your skirt straightened out. you turned to your lover and kissed him deeply on the lips.

"all better?" you asked softly.

he held you by the hips, his smiled bright as he said, "of course, you make everything better, my love." then kissed you once more. the frustration had melted off of his skin. he felt almost renewed, that the next race would be better.

you two kissed a little more before you both slinked out of the closet, thankful not to be caught. however franco would overhear later on about the smell in the supply closet. he grinned at the rim of his water bottle as he heard, "yeah, it smells like sex in that." <3

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.

It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

This one isn't as silly as the rest, I hope y'all still like it

Other parts in this series: Vil ; Riddle ; Lilia ; Malleus ; Azul ; Leona ; Idia ; Jamil

The bar was bustling with the lively sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and music. It was the kind of place that invited camaraderie, a perfect spot for celebrating the latest success your team had pulled off. You were surrounded by your colleagues, all in high spirits. The project you had all worked tirelessly on had finally paid off, and the sense of accomplishment was almost palpable.

Someone had insisted on buying another round, and before you knew it, shots were being passed around. You weren't normally one to indulge too much, but tonight was an exception. After all the stress and sleepless nights, you deserved to relax a little.

“Cheers to us!” someone shouted, and everyone raised their glasses, laughter rippling through the group.

You smiled, genuinely feeling the warmth of the moment. There was something about the shared joy of victory that made the exhaustion worthwhile. You took a sip of your drink, eyes drifting across the room to see your colleagues—people who had become something like a second family over the months of grueling work.

But then you noticed one of your colleagues.

He looked like someone who’d already had a bit too much, was stumbling his way towards the exit, mumbling something about needing fresh air. His unsteady gait set off alarm bells in your mind, and without a second thought, you set your drink down and quickly followed after him.

“Hey!” you called out, catching up to him just as he pushed open the heavy door to the outside. The cool night air hit your face, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bar. “You okay, man? Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

He waved you off, a lopsided grin on his face. “Nah, I’m fine! Just need… air,” he slurred, his steps veering towards the curb.

You frowned, reaching out to grab his arm gently. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. It’s not safe—”

Suddenly, he pulled away, stumbling further into the road. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The flash of headlights, the blaring horn, his eyes widening in confusion as the truck bore down on him.

Your body moved on instinct. Without thinking, you lunged forward, shoving your colleague out of the way. The last thing you heard was the deafening screech of tires, the rush of adrenaline flooding your veins as the realization hit.

There was no time to move.

The impact came with a force that stole your breath, pain radiating through your body before everything went dark.

The world faded away, the laughter and warmth of the bar replaced by an all-encompassing silence.

You woke up slowly, the world around you blurred and unfamiliar. There was an ache in your body, a heavy sort of weariness that made every small movement a struggle. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, your head pounding as if it was caught between a vice.

The first thing you noticed was the ceiling. It was wooden, beams running across it, the kind of architecture that seemed straight out of a period drama. You frowned, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

Where were you? This wasn’t the hospital—there were no sterile white walls, no beeping monitors. And the bed… It was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and you could feel the scratchy fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, the unfamiliar weight of the clothes you were wearing making you pause. They were heavy, the fabric rough against your skin. You looked down, taking in the sight of the dress you were wearing—long, old-fashioned, and visibly worn. The sleeves were frayed, and the fabric itself looked like it had seen better days, like something out of a historical novel.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The room around you was small, cramped, the furniture sparse and outdated. It was then that you noticed the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. You stood, your legs shaky beneath you, and made your way towards it.

The face staring back at you wasn’t your own.

You swallowed, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you took in the unfamiliar features—the pale skin, the hollow eyes, the face that looked almost gaunt. The realization settled in slowly, the pieces falling into place with a horrible sort of clarity. You knew this face. You knew these clothes, this room, the aching feeling that lingered in your chest.

It was the face of a character from a novel you had read as a teenager. A tragic, doomed villainess—one whose story had always stayed with you, not because of her actions but because of the injustice of it all. She was a character meant to suffer, her only role to push the heroine into her journey. She was used, discarded, her death nothing more than a footnote in the protagonist's story. The villainess with a cruel fate, a pawn in the hands of those more powerful, destined to be cast aside the moment her usefulness ran out.

You felt a chill settle in your bones, your body sinking back onto the edge of the bed as the weight of your new reality hit you. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some fleeting nightmare you could wake up from. You were here—stuck in the body of a character whose life was nothing but misery.

Everything you had worked for—your career, your friendships, the life you had painstakingly built for yourself—was gone. All the late nights, the hard-earned successes, the laughter with friends over drinks—all of it was gone in an instant, replaced by a fate you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

The hopelessness of it all settled in, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. There was no future for this character, no way out. She was meant to suffer, to be used and discarded, and no matter how much you wanted to fight it, to believe that you could change it, a part of you knew the truth.

You were powerless here.

You buried your face in your hands, a shuddering breath escaping your lips. You wanted to cry, to scream, to demand answers. But there was no one here to answer you, no one who would care even if they could. You were alone, in a story that had already decided your fate.

The tragic villainess—the role you were now forced to play.

And you couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of despair.

After coming to terms with your new reality, you made a decision. You couldn’t afford to be a passive character in this story, waiting for the inevitable to crush you. If you were going to live in this world, then you would fight for it, rewrite the narrative, and carve out a future for yourself—even if that meant playing a role that no one expected of you.

The first challenge came at home. The character you possessed had a father—a lazy, indifferent man who spent his days drinking, oblivious to the decay of his household. The family was in debt, the estate falling apart, and the few servants left were more interested in lining their pockets than doing their jobs. You took a deep breath, refusing to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. One step at a time.

You started with the estate. You reviewed the books, fired the corrupt staff who had been bleeding your family dry, and brought in trustworthy people to take their place. It wasn’t easy—there were threats, and more than a few people tried to intimidate you into silence. But you had faced challenges before in your old life, and even in this new one, you weren’t about to be cowed.

Slowly, things began to change. The estate began to recover, the debts lessened, and the people who worked for you started to believe in you. You gained a reputation—first as a shrewd manager, then as someone who could be relied on to get things done. You built relationships, carefully navigating the intricacies of this world’s social dynamics. It wasn’t long before the local nobles started to take notice.

Your father, indifferent and content with his habits, became less of an obstacle as you quietly took over the responsibilities of your household. You made connections, attended social events, and gradually climbed the ranks. It was exhausting, demanding work, but every success fueled your determination.

Then came the opportunity that changed everything. A crisis in the kingdom required volunteers, and you stepped forward—a move that shocked those around you. A woman, much less a former disgraced noble, didn’t typically take on such a role. But you had no intention of following the rules laid out for you. You worked hard, proving your capability on the battlefield, earning respect not only for your strategic mind but also for your courage.

Eventually, you were knighted—a Dame of the kingdom, an honor that would have seemed impossible not long ago. It was followed by an offer to serve as a general. You accepted, knowing that with power came the opportunity to change your fate and secure a future free from the shackles of the tragic story you had once read.

The war that came next was brutal. You spent months on the frontlines, leading your soldiers through grueling battles. The weight of command was heavy; lives depended on you, and the decisions you made could mean the difference between victory and death. But you faced it all with a determination forged from your past life, a refusal to be anything less than victorious. You strategized, fought alongside your troops, and inspired them to fight harder.

In the end, you won. The kingdom's enemies were driven back, and you returned home not as the villainess destined for tragedy but as a war hero. The people cheered as you passed through the streets, and for the first time since you arrived in this world, you felt something other than fear and despair. You had fought, you had survived, and you had won.

The nobles who had once looked down on you were forced to recognize your accomplishments, and the people who once whispered about your family’s disgrace now spoke of your triumphs. You had rewritten the story, taken a character destined for misery and given her a new path—one forged by your own hands.

But even in victory, you knew the dangers of complacency. The story was far from over, and though you had managed to change your fate thus far, there were still challenges ahead. The heroine of the original story had yet to make her appearance, and the narrative that had once doomed you was still a threat.

But for now, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, to take in the sight of the city you had fought to protect. You had climbed higher than anyone had expected, and you were determined not to fall. You had built something new—something that was yours. And you would fight to keep it, no matter what came next.

But along the way, you’d lost something essential. The joy, the ambition, the passion that had once driven you was gone. You’d become cold, hardened by the betrayals you’d faced. Even the people closest to you turned out to be disloyal.

The most painful betrayal was from a soldier you had trusted with your life—someone you had fought beside in war. He had been leaking information to the enemy, and you were forced to execute him with your own hand. His treachery cut deeper than any wound you had suffered in battle.

Your butler, a kind old man who had become something of a father figure to you, noticed the change. He often tried to cheer you up, suggesting suitors and hosting lavish events, but none of it worked. The eligible bachelors and bachelorettes who came your way were only interested in your title and wealth, not you. You became cynical, distrustful, and your butler could only watch in sadness as the vibrant person you once were faded away.

It didn’t help that you had made powerful enemies. The first prince, who you had fought beside during the war, had proposed to you.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was buzzing with the energy of the noble elite, all gathered to witness the unprecedented moment. You stood at the forefront of the room, the golden imperial crest behind you shimmering in the light of hundreds of candles.

The emperor himself had just awarded you the title of Grand Duchess, a feat no woman had ever achieved before. The applause was thunderous, the murmurs of awe and envy swirling through the crowd like a current.

You stood tall, your posture regal, even though the weight of the moment pressed down on you like a heavy crown. You’d worked for years to get here, fighting both on the battlefield and in the political arena, your every victory hard-earned.

It should’ve been a moment of triumph. And yet, the expression on the emperor’s face, tight and thin-lipped, warned you that this celebration wasn’t going to end on a pleasant note.

Sure enough, the moment the formalities ended, the first prince took a step forward. His crimson military uniform was pristine, medals gleaming on his chest, but the shine didn’t reach his eyes. You’d fought beside him during the war, seen his cowardice firsthand, and his presence already had your stomach turning.

He cleared his throat, and the hall fell into silence. The crowd’s attention shifted to him, eyes wide with anticipation. A royal prince proposing to the empire’s new Grand Duchess? It was the kind of spectacle they lived for.

“Grand Duchess,” he began, his voice booming with the kind of arrogance that only a man born into power could possess, “your bravery and accomplishments have brought great honor to this empire. You have achieved more than any woman before you, and it would be my honor to have you by my side.”

You felt your blood run cold. Oh, you knew this was coming. It had been whispered through the halls of the palace since the day you returned from the front lines—the cowardly prince, had been seeking to marry you and elevate his own standing. You’d avoided it until now, but it seemed the time for subtlety was over. He had chosen this moment, in front of the entire nobility, to make his move.

The prince knelt before you, reaching into his pocket to produce a ring—a garish thing, oversized and glittering with a ridiculous number of diamonds. The kind of ring that screamed, look at me, I’m important, but utterly lacked any true beauty. He held it up to you, the crowd around you gasping in unison.

“I ask for your hand in marriage, Grand Duchess,” he declared, his voice filled with artificial charm. “Together, we will rule this empire as the most powerful couple in history.”

You stared down at him, your jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder you didn’t break a tooth. Your mind raced as you felt the weight of every eye in the room on you. They were waiting for you to swoon, to accept, to submit to the prince’s advances like some simpering debutante.

But you? You were no ordinary noblewoman, no pawn in the empire’s political games. You had fought for this title, bled for it, earned it in ways he could never understand. And there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself be reduced to a mere accessory to this man’s weak, cowardly ambition.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at the prince—this spoiled, useless man who thought his status alone could make up for his lack of character—and something inside you snapped.

“Marry you?” you repeated, your voice clear and cold, echoing through the hall. The prince’s smile wavered, and murmurs began to ripple through the audience.

You stepped forward, your voice rising with a sharp edge. “You think I would ever marry someone like you? A man who cowered behind his soldiers in battle, who fled at the first sign of danger? A man who abandoned his comrades, left them to die while he ran to save his own skin?”

The crowd gasped, the sound a collective intake of shock. his face flushed with embarrassment, but you weren’t done.

“I would rather marry a toad,” you continued, your voice dripping with scorn, “than be tied to a man as spineless and pathetic as you.”

The hall fell into a stunned silence. the prince's face went from red to ashen, his hand still frozen in place, holding that absurd ring. He opened his mouth, sputtering, but no words came out. He hadn’t expected this—no one had.

You could feel the weight of the empire’s gaze on you, but it didn’t matter. You were no longer just the Grand Duchess. You were something far more dangerous: a woman who had the power to defy the expectations of an entire empire.

“You would do well,” you said, your voice dropping to a deadly calm, “to remember that I earned this title. Not by birthright. Not by marriage. But by merit. And I’ll be damned if I ever let someone like you take that from me.”

With that, you turned your back on him, the prince still kneeling, humiliated in front of the empire’s most powerful. The nobles around you stood in stunned silence, some daring to whisper amongst themselves, while others watched in awe, as if witnessing a force of nature in human form.

As you walked away from the proposal, your eyes met the emperor’s. His face was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes—a silent acknowledgment that you had just done something no one else would have dared. You had broken the rules of this world, and the repercussions would be felt for years to come.

But you didn’t care. You were done playing their games.

Let them try and tame you. You had made it this far on your own, and you weren’t about to let anyone—least of all a toad in princely clothing—stand in your way.

The day had started like any other—a grey, somber morning draped in the quiet monotony you had come to know. The Grand Duchess’s estate was immaculate, polished to perfection, reflecting the cold and unyielding nature of its owner.

You moved through the day with the same precision as ever, going through endless meetings, signing off on reports, handling political maneuvers with the finesse of a seasoned war general. Yet, beneath it all, the hollowness remained.

Until that afternoon.

A delegation from the Scalding Sands had arrived, their colorful caravans contrasting sharply with the muted grandeur of your estate. You had heard they were coming—a diplomatic mission of sorts—and while you didn’t expect much from it, the formalities had to be observed. It was part of your role now, after all.

You stood at the grand entrance, waiting as the doors swung open to reveal the visiting party. A small group of advisors and servants stepped in first, but then your eyes fell on the young man leading them.

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the most prominent merchant family in the Scalding Sands.

Dressed in vibrant silks, Kalim practically radiated joy. His bright eyes shone with unfiltered excitement, and his smile was wide, carefree, as if he was about to greet an old friend instead of a war-hardened Duchess. His enthusiasm was…disarming, to say the least.

“Grand Duchess!” Kalim called out the moment he spotted you, practically bouncing as he approached. “It’s an honor to finally meet you! Your reputation precedes you—everyone’s been talking about how amazing you are!”

You blinked, taken aback by his unabashed warmth. No one had spoken to you like that in years—so casual, so genuine. Most nobles approached you with caution, fear even, carefully curating their words to avoid upsetting the ice-cold facade you’d been forced to build. But Kalim? He had no such hesitations.

You inclined your head, keeping your tone measured. “Lord Al-Asim, welcome to my estate. I trust your journey was smooth?”

“Oh, it was fantastic! The weather was perfect, and we got to see so many beautiful sights on the way here! Your countryside is amazing—so green! Nothing like back home.” He beamed at you, his energy practically infectious. “I brought some gifts too! We have spices, silks, and a bunch of other stuff from home that I think you’ll love.”

As he rattled off the list of things he brought, you found yourself…listening. Actually listening, instead of mechanically going through the motions. There was something about his unfiltered excitement that was strangely comforting. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to you like this, without calculation or hidden motives.

“I appreciate the thought,” you replied, a small flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “I’ll have the servants take care of the gifts. Please, come inside.”

He entered the estate like a burst of sunlight, his presence immediately brightening the space. As the servants guided his entourage to their rooms, you walked alongside him, pointing out some of the estate’s features. Kalim seemed utterly fascinated by everything.

“Wow, this place is incredible!” Kalim exclaimed as they passed through the gallery. His eyes wandered over the portraits lining the walls, the tapestries depicting your family’s history. “It’s so different from back home. You must be so proud to live here.”

Pride? You hadn’t felt pride in anything for a long time. Your estate, your title—it was all just the result of relentless hard work, the endless climb to the top. But you had never stopped to admire it. To feel pride in what you’d built.

Still, you nodded, keeping your face composed. “It serves its purpose.”

Kalim gave you a curious glance. “You know, it sounds like you’re talking about a sword instead of your home.”

A sword. That’s what your life had been, hadn’t it? A weapon, sharp and unyielding, forged in battle, cutting down every obstacle in its path. But now, with Kalim’s innocent comment, you wondered—was that all it was?

Before you could respond, Kalim suddenly paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking the gardens. The view was breathtaking, the autumn leaves casting the scene in warm, golden hues.

“Hey, look!” Kalim pointed excitedly. “Your garden! It’s so beautiful this time of year. Do you ever just sit out there and enjoy it?”

You blinked again. Enjoy it? The idea seemed foreign, almost absurd. But then, looking at Kalim’s wide, hopeful eyes, you found yourself saying, “No… I don’t.”

Kalim turned to you, that same sunny grin never leaving his face. “You should! I mean, you’ve worked so hard, right? You deserve to enjoy the little things too.”

His words caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy anything.

But then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a faint smile tugged at your lips. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.

The maids and butlers who had been quietly observing from the corners of the room nearly gasped. One of them—your head butler, who had served you since the day you first took over your family’s estate—actually dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“D-Duchess…!” one of the younger maids whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “She’s smiling…”

You caught sight of the butler’s reaction and, for a moment, you almost laughed. It was such a strange sight—your stoic, stern staff, so moved by something as simple as a smile.

Kalim noticed it too, tilting his head curiously. “Why’s everyone so emotional?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping before you could stop it. “I suppose they’re not used to seeing me… enjoy myself.”

Kalim’s grin widened, his eyes practically sparkling. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to change that! It’s about time you had some fun, right?”

You didn’t answer right away, but for the first time in years, something inside you—something long buried under layers of responsibility, grief, and betrayal—began to stir.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps it was time for you to remember what it felt like to live again.

The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, filled with nobles and dignitaries who moved gracefully across the floor, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft music from the orchestra.

You stood at the edge of the room, as you always did during these events, keeping a careful distance from the festivities. These gatherings were necessary, of course—an unavoidable part of your role—but that didn’t mean you enjoyed them.

You took a sip of the champagne in your hand, your eyes scanning the room with practiced detachment. As always, you were observing—watching the faces, reading the subtle exchanges of power and influence happening between the guests.

The weight of your title hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the responsibilities you bore. Even here, surrounded by laughter and music, you felt that familiar distance, the wall you had built around yourself growing ever higher.

It wasn’t until you noticed the flash of bright colors weaving through the crowd that your attention shifted. Kalim Al-Asim, as vibrant as ever, was making his way through the ballroom, greeting guests with his usual exuberance.

His silks shimmered in the soft candlelight, his wide grin impossible to miss. He moved with an ease that most nobles envied, free from the stifling formality that seemed to bind everyone else.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes found yours. His face lit up with recognition, and without hesitation, he started toward you.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he reached your side. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Isn’t this ball amazing? The music, the lights, the people—it’s all so lively!”

You gave him a polite nod, your usual reserved expression in place. “It’s certainly… lively.”

Kalim laughed, clearly not picking up on your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re always so serious! You should join in the fun, you know! This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

Before you could respond, he held out his hand to you, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “Dance with me!”

The request caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, shaking your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t dance.”

Kalim tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Come on! You can’t say no to a party like this! Everyone’s having such a good time—you should too.”

You opened your mouth to refuse again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no expectation, no hidden motive—just the same infectious joy he carried with him everywhere he went. And for a moment, you hesitated, feeling something stir inside you. When was the last time you’d allowed yourself to have fun? To do something as simple as dance?

Still, old habits were hard to break. “I’m not exactly one for dancing,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

But Kalim wasn’t deterred. “That’s okay! You don’t have to be good at it—you just have to enjoy it!” He took your hand, his grip warm and inviting. “Please? Just one dance?”

There was something so sincere in his request, so full of hope, that you found yourself nodding before you could think better of it.

Kalim’s face lit up with delight, and without wasting a moment, he led you out onto the dance floor. The room seemed to blur around you as he took your hand in his, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. His movements were far from graceful, but they were full of life, and you couldn’t help but be swept along by his energy.

At first, you were stiff, your posture as rigid as ever, but Kalim’s enthusiasm was contagious. He spun you around with such glee that you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising even to yourself. Kalim grinned at you, clearly thrilled that he had coaxed a smile from you.

“See? You’re already having fun!” he said brightly.

And he was right. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you weren’t thinking about the politics of the room, the weight of your title, or the endless responsibilities waiting for you. For this brief moment, you were just… dancing. Letting go. Enjoying yourself.

As the music swelled, Kalim twirled you again, his laughter mixing with the sounds of the ballroom. The two of you were out of step with the rest of the dancers, your movements more playful than elegant, but you didn’t care. Neither did Kalim. He didn’t care about appearances or expectations—he just wanted you to be happy, and for this one dance, you let him succeed.

Around you, the other guests had begun to notice. Whispers passed between them, astonished gazes following your every move. The Grand Duchess—stoic, untouchable—laughing and dancing with such abandon was something no one had ever expected to see. Your knights, stationed at the edge of the ballroom, exchanged incredulous glances, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

“She’s dancing…” one of them murmured, barely audible. “And she’s smiling.”

Your head butler, who had been hovering nearby as always, watched with misty eyes. “This… this is a day for the history books,” he whispered, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

You could feel their eyes on you, the shock rippling through the room, but for once, you didn’t care. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be free, to laugh, to dance, to let go of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

As the song came to an end, Kalim pulled you into one final twirl, his grin as wide as ever. When the music stopped, you found yourself breathless but… lighter. For the first time in years, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joy.

Kalim beamed at you, clearly proud of himself. “See? I told you it’d be fun!”

You shook your head, unable to stop the small smile that lingered on your lips. “You are… impossible, Kalim.”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”

As you returned to your spot at the edge of the room, the music starting up again for the next dance, you realized that something had changed. Kalim had reminded you of something you had long forgotten—that it was okay to enjoy yourself. That even someone like you, burdened with the weight of leadership, could allow herself a moment of happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself more moments like this.

The night after the ball had been long and arduous, and you were ready to retreat into the sanctuary of your chambers. The walls of your estate, which had once felt like a fortress, now felt suffocating as you tried to quiet the noise in your mind.

The forced smiles, the veiled threats, the insidious whispers among the nobility—they were all routine by now, but they weighed heavier tonight.

As you reached for the door to your private quarters, a sharp knock echoed through the hallway. One of your servants stepped forward, their face pale, eyes lowered in deference.

"The Emperor has summoned you, Grand Duchess."

Your fingers froze on the door handle. The Emperor? At this hour?

Though dread prickled at your skin, you squared your shoulders and strode down the hall toward the imperial throne room. The Emperor wasn’t one for idle conversation; this was bound to be more than a simple debrief after the ball.

The grand doors to the throne room loomed before you, and with a nod from the guards, they creaked open to reveal the Emperor seated on his throne. He was draped in the finest clothes, his presence radiating authority, but there was something sharper in his gaze tonight. The first prince, stood off to the side, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind his princely facade.

You stepped into the room, head held high. You wouldn’t show weakness, not here. Not in front of them.

"Your Majesty," you greeted, voice steady.

The Emperor wasted no time. “Grand Duchess, tonight’s events have caused quite a stir.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hard as stone. “Your rejection of the First Prince in such a public manner has… complicated things.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You clenched your fists but remained silent, waiting for him to reveal his true intention.

He sighed, a sound heavy with pretense. “The nobility is divided, and the Empire cannot afford instability. You have two choices before you.”

Your eyes flickered towards the first prince, who was barely containing his glee. You already knew what was coming.

“Marry the first prince and strengthen your position within the royal family.” The Emperor's voice was calm, deliberate. “Or, if that does not suit you…” He paused for effect, his gaze hardening as if daring you to defy him. “Marry Kalim Al-Asim and solidify our diplomatic alliance with the Scalding Sands.”

The room felt as though it had tilted. You knew this was coming, yet hearing the words spoken aloud felt like a slap across the face. “And if I refuse both?” you asked, voice colder than ice.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will have no choice but to imprison you for defying royal decree.” He leaned back into his throne, fingers tapping on the armrest. “You’ve served this empire well, but even you are not above the law.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, fury bubbling just beneath your skin. You, who had rebuilt "your" family’s estate, who had served the empire with every drop of blood and sweat you had to give—this was your reward? An ultimatum. Marry a prince who disgusted you, or chain yourself to Kalim, someone who was the antithesis of everything you had become.

You felt your lips curl into a grim smile. “So those are my choices. A cowardly prince or shackling Kalim to someone like me—a shell of a person who’s long forgotten how to live.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Kalim, who had been standing nearby, watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His face was still lit with that ever-present smile, though softer now, and he didn’t seem rattled in the slightest by the gravity of the situation. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind.”

You turned to him, incredulous. What?

Kalim laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head, his tone still as carefree as ever. “I’d be happy if it’s you. Really. Out of anyone in this empire, I’d rather be with someone strong and capable like you than some stranger who doesn’t even care.” His eyes were warm, completely sincere. There wasn’t a trace of fear or doubt in his words. “Plus, you’re pretty amazing! You’ve done so much for your estate, your people... I think you’re really cool!”

For a moment, just a brief moment, your raging heart stilled.

Kalim had no idea what kind of burden this marriage would be for him. You weren’t the person you once were. The years had hardened you, chipped away at the softness, leaving only the cold, sharp edges behind. Yet here he was, smiling, accepting the situation with an ease that made you wonder how he could be so unaffected.

You swallowed hard, your anger at the Emperor still simmering, but Kalim’s words had softened the blow. This wasn’t about him. He wasn’t the one forcing you into this corner. If anything, he was as much a pawn as you were.

But that didn’t mean you would accept this quietly.

You turned back to the Emperor, the cold fire in your eyes unmistakable. “Very well,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom. “I’ll marry Kalim if that is what you demand.” You took a step forward, your gaze piercing through the Emperor. “But rest assured, Your Majesty, this humiliation will not go unanswered. I may be bound by your decree, but you will regret underestimating me.”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but unimpressed. “Is that a threat, Grand Duchess?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “A promise.”

With that, you turned on your heel, your decision made. Kalim followed you without hesitation, his steps light and unburdened.

And as you left the imperial throne room, you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kalim was smiling still, bright and carefree, as if nothing had changed.

Maybe—just maybe—you would survive this ordeal with a little less bitterness than you’d expected.

But the Emperor? He wouldn’t escape unscathed. You would make sure of that.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of your manor, casting a warm, golden light across the room as you stood in the foyer. Kalim’s people from the Scalding Sands were preparing to depart, their vibrant, colorful robes a stark contrast to the colder tones of your estate.

You watched as they bustled about, gathering their things, saying their goodbyes, and it was a strange feeling—this sudden departure of the warmth they had brought with them.

Kalim was chatting excitedly with his entourage, gesturing wildly as he recounted some tale or another. His boundless energy had not dulled, despite the situation. You wondered how someone could remain so cheerful even in the face of such an uncertain future.

One of the senior members of Kalim’s delegation approached you, bowing deeply. “Grand Duchess, we are honored by your hospitality and your graciousness in this… unexpected engagement.” He glanced at Kalim with a fond, yet slightly exasperated look. “But our duties call us back to the Scalding Sands. We regret we cannot stay longer.”

You nodded, your expression softening slightly. “You are always welcome to stay in my manor for as long as you like. Consider it an apology for the empire’s… difficult circumstances.” The words didn’t come easily, but you meant them. You hadn’t missed how awkward the situation was for them—dragged into imperial politics without much say in the matter.

The advisor looked touched, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he bowed even deeper. “Your kindness is greatly appreciated, Grand Duchess. But, alas, we must return. We have duties to fulfill back home. Our people rely on us.”

You nodded in understanding, casting a glance at Kalim, who was still busy waving goodbye to his people. “I understand. Do what you must.”

The group finished their farewells and began filing out of the estate, leaving only one person behind—Jamil, Kalim’s loyal aide, who stood with his arms crossed, looking as calm and composed as ever.

Kalim turned to you with his usual bright smile, waving at his departing entourage. “Looks like it’s just us now!”

“And Jamil,” you added dryly.

Jamil gave a polite nod. “Of course, Grand Duchess. I will remain at Kalim’s side as always.”

You offered Jamil a brief nod before turning your attention back to Kalim. “I hope the manor is to your liking. It will likely feel different without your people around.”

Kalim beamed, completely unfazed. “Are you kidding? This place is amazing! Plus, I’ve made some new friends already.”

You raised an eyebrow. “New friends?”

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a trio of your staff—two maids and your head butler—rushed into the room, their arms filled with notepads. They hovered around Kalim, their expressions a mix of admiration and excitement.

“Lord Al-Asim,” one of the maids began eagerly, “could you tell us again how you made the Grand Duchess laugh yesterday? We’d like to take notes.”

Kalim’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Oh, sure! So, I was just talking about how much I love riding on magic carpets and how one time, I almost flew straight into a flock of flamingos. You should’ve seen the feathers everywhere!” He burst into laughter, and the staff furiously scribbled in their notepads.

You stood there, blinking, utterly dumbfounded. You knew Kalim had a way of getting people to like him, but this? This was something else. You caught sight of your head butler, who was listening intently, nodding along as if Kalim were revealing some great secret to unlocking your happiness.

Kalim, noticing your expression, turned toward you with a huge grin. “See? I told you! They’re really interested in learning how to make you smile more!”

You couldn’t help it—a soft laugh escaped your lips. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Your estate, so accustomed to the stoic and rigid demeanor you carried, was now filled with your maids and butlers eagerly taking tips from a young merchant heir about how to bring joy into your life.

Your head butler gasped at the sound of your laugh, immediately dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. “The Grand Duchess… she laughed again!” His voice quivered with emotion, and the younger maid next to him looked ready to burst into tears as well.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself. You laughed—genuinely, fully, for the first time in what felt like years. The absurdity of it all, the sight of your normally stone-faced butler shedding tears of joy over something so simple, was too much.

Kalim, of course, laughed along with you, completely at ease. “See? It’s not so hard!”

You shook your head, still chuckling as you looked at him. “You’re impossible, Kalim.”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Hey, as long as you’re smiling, I’m doing something right!”

You glanced over at your butler, who was now openly weeping into his handkerchief. “Please, calm down. You’re making a scene.”

But the butler only waved a hand dramatically, unable to compose himself. “It is… a joy to witness such a thing, Grand Duchess. A joy I never thought I would see in my lifetime.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile lingered on your lips. “Honestly…”

Kalim, still grinning from ear to ear, looked at you with a warmth that, for just a moment, eased the tension that had been building in your chest since the engagement was announced. Though the situation was far from ideal, and though you still had plans to make the Emperor regret his actions, Kalim’s presence—his boundless energy and optimism—was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds that had surrounded you for so long.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

<hr>

The bustling market was alive with the sights and sounds of your people going about their day—vendors calling out their wares, children running between the stalls, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filling the air. It had been years since you last visited the market like this, blending in with the common folk, and you were struck by how much had changed since you were younger. The town had grown, thriving under your rule, and though you were always kept informed of the state of your territory, seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether.

Beside you, Kalim was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes sparkled as he took in the vibrant displays of food, crafts, and goods, his smile as wide as ever. “Wow! This place is amazing! Look at all these stalls!” He dashed ahead, marveling at the colorful array of goods, his enthusiasm as infectious as ever.

You couldn’t help but smile at his energy, though you maintained your usual composed demeanor. “This market is one of the oldest in the region. It’s a center of trade, and many of the local families have been running their stalls for generations.”

Kalim turned to you, eyes bright with admiration. “Your people look so happy! I knew you were an amazing ruler, but seeing this with my own eyes? It’s incredible! You’ve built something really special here.”

There was a warmth in his words that caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in thought. You had always worked hard for your people, but you rarely took the time to reflect on how much you had accomplished. Hearing it from someone like Kalim—someone who was so honest and open in his praise—made it feel different, more personal.

He suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you toward a food stall where a vendor was grilling skewers of seasoned meat. “Hey, we’ve gotta try some of this!” Kalim exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “It smells so good!”

The vendor, a stout older man with a friendly smile, bowed as he recognized you. “Grand Duchess! It is an honor to serve you today. Would you like to try one of our specialties?”

You nodded, taking in the scent of the sizzling food. “I’ll have two, please.”

The vendor handed you two skewers, and you turned to Kalim, offering him one. “Here, try this.”

Without a second thought, Kalim leaned in and took a bite right from the skewer you were holding, grinning up at you as he chewed. “Mmm! This is delicious!” His face lit up in delight, and he barely waited to swallow before he added, “You have to try some too!”

Before you could react, Kalim held his own skewer up to you, expecting you to do the same. The casualness of the gesture—the ease with which he shared his food—made you pause. It had been so long since anyone had treated you like this, without the usual formality or hesitation. Almost on instinct, you leaned in and took a small bite.

The flavor was rich, the spices perfectly balanced, but it wasn’t the food that had your attention. No, it was the way Kalim was watching you, his expression full of warmth and joy, as if this simple moment meant the world to him.

Your face warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you realized you were blushing.

Behind you, you heard a sharp intake of breath from one of your knights, who had been quietly trailing after you. “Did… did the Grand Duchess just blush?” one of them whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with astonishment.

Another knight, equally stunned, gasped. “She did! I saw it! She actually blushed!”

You turned to glare at your knights, trying to regain your composure. “Enough,” you said sharply, though your flustered tone betrayed you. “Focus on your duties.”

But your knights were having none of it. One of them, a young woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, exchanged glances with her comrades before whispering, “Did you see how casual she was with him? They’re feeding each other like a couple!”

Another knight, eyes wide with excitement, chimed in. “I can’t believe this! The Grand Duchess… flustered by her fiancé? It’s like we’re in a romance novel!”

You shot them another look, but Kalim, completely oblivious to the whispers and side glances, just laughed, offering you more of his skewer. “Here, have some more! You look like you liked it!”

Your heart raced at the simple, kind gesture, and though you wanted to maintain your icy composure, something about Kalim’s sincerity made it impossible to stay guarded. You took another bite, feeling your face grow even warmer as your knights barely contained their squeals of excitement.

One of the senior knights, trying to remain composed but failing miserably, muttered, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Lord Al-Asim is working miracles.”

“I know!” another knight whispered excitedly. “We should take notes! Maybe we can keep her in a good mood if we learn from him.”

The absurdity of it all—the idea of your battle-hardened knights taking pointers from Kalim on how to make you smile—was too much. You couldn’t help it; a soft, genuine laugh escaped your lips.

You sighed, shaking your head as Kalim smiled up at you, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused. “You really are impossible, Kalim.”

Kalim grinned, completely at ease. “Hey, as long as you’re happy, I’m doing something right!”

For the first time in a long while, surrounded by the people you’d worked so hard to protect and with Kalim at your side, you felt a genuine lightness in your heart. Maybe this wasn’t the life you had planned, but for now, in this moment, it didn’t seem so bad.

From the moment Kalim Al-Asim first stepped into your estate, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. It wasn’t something you said or did—if anything, you were composed, graceful, carrying yourself with the kind of authority that made people hesitate before speaking to you.

No, it was something deeper, something in the way your shoulders were always so tense, the way your eyes seemed to hold a kind of tiredness that went beyond just physical exhaustion.

Kalim wasn’t blind to his own shortcomings. He wasn’t the smartest guy—he knew that. He’d been told as much more times than he could count. People often saw him as naive, too happy-go-lucky for the responsibilities placed on his shoulders.

That’s what Jamil was for, after all, to cover for his inadequacies and ensure that things went smoothly. Kalim didn’t mind. He trusted Jamil more than anyone, and he knew his limits.

But when he met you, something shifted inside him.

At first, it was just awe. You were the Grand Duchess, after all—the person everyone talked about. A ruler who had risen to power not by birthright but through sheer will and skill.

You had this aura of strength around you, like a shield. But Kalim could see the cracks in that armor, the way the weight of your responsibilities was crushing you, little by little. And it hurt to see.

He’d expected you to be cold, maybe even harsh, like so many nobles who carried the weight of authority. But when you greeted him, your voice wasn’t harsh—it was gentle. There was pressure behind it, sure, but you didn’t snap at him or dismiss his excitement, even though he knew people often found him a bit too much.

Instead, you listened to him. You smiled—a small, almost invisible one—but it was there, and it lit something inside him. A flutter he didn’t quite know how to describe.

It was when you smiled for him for the first time that he really felt it. That small, faint curve of your lips after he’d gotten a little too excited about something as simple as a window view of your garden. The flutter in his chest was unfamiliar, but he didn’t dislike it. No, in fact, it felt… nice. Special.

Kalim couldn’t help but want to make you smile again.

He’d seen so many people forced into roles that didn’t let them be happy, and he hated that you seemed to be one of them. You were strong, yeah, but you were suffering, too. And that was something Kalim couldn’t stand. So, from that moment on, he made it a personal goal to lighten the weight on your shoulders, even if just a little.

He didn’t have Jamil’s cleverness, didn’t understand the nuances of the political games you were constantly playing, but maybe—just maybe—he could give you something simple. A reminder that life wasn’t just about duty and responsibility, that there could be joy, too. If anyone deserved to smile more, it was you.

And when you did, that tiny flutter in his chest bloomed into something more. He didn’t have the words for it, but whatever it was, it made him even more determined to stick by your side.

Because in the end, Kalim Al-Asim wasn’t the smartest, but he knew one thing for sure: he liked making you happy. And if he could do that, even in the smallest ways, then maybe that was enough.

The wedding had been a grand affair—briefly mentioned in conversations, a formality that had swept through the palace in a whirlwind of silks, flowers, and the astonished murmurs of nobles. Now, life had settled into its new rhythm. The days moved forward, filled with work and the familiar weight of duty, yet something had shifted. Something brighter.

You sat at your desk, papers spread out in front of you, quill in hand. The room was quiet, save for the soft scratching of pen on parchment. But then, a familiar burst of energy entered the room.

Kalim.

He bounded over to you, practically glowing with life, as always. His smile was wide, his eyes gleaming as he plopped down beside you, legs crossed, hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

“Hey, what’re you working on? Anything exciting? You should take a break—you’ve been at it for hours!” His words bubbled up, his excitement palpable.

You glanced up from your work, unable to suppress the smallest of smiles. Kalim had that effect—an infectious lightness that made everything around him feel… easier. As he leaned closer to peer at your papers, you felt the warmth of his presence, the joy that radiated from him in every small movement.

And then, it hit you.

The past few months, since you had arrived in this world, had been the best you could remember. Despite everything—despite the weight of your responsibilities, the confusion of your new life—there had been him. Kalim, always there with his endless enthusiasm, his unwavering kindness. He was the reason those months had been so full of life, so unexpectedly joyful.

Without thinking, you reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him down onto your lap. His laughter bubbled up in surprise as you tugged him into your space, but before he could say anything, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a moment, the world stilled. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and you could feel the surprised smile lingering there, slowly deepening as he kissed you back, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

When you pulled back, his eyes sparkled, his grin wider than ever.

“Well, that was unexpected!” he laughed, his cheeks flushed. “I should interrupt your work more often!”

The chaos hit you the moment you opened the door.

Papers were scattered everywhere, an overturned chair lay dramatically in the corner, and somehow, somehow, Kalim had managed to knock over an entire shelf of books, which now covered the floor in what could only be described as a literary avalanche.

In the center of it all was Kalim himself, spinning wildly in circles as he tried to catch a parrot—yes, a parrot—that was squawking and flapping around the room like it had a personal vendetta against order.

"Oh! You're back!" Kalim shouted, not missing a beat as he stumbled over a pile of papers, arms flailing as the parrot swooped low above his head. "You wouldn’t believe it—Jamil said not to bring the bird in, but I thought, 'Hey, it’ll liven things up!' And now it’s really livening things up!"

The parrot screeched in agreement, swooping low again as Kalim tried (and failed) to dodge it, knocking into another pile of books in the process.

You just stood there, blinking, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what you were seeing. Your instinct—your usual instinct—would have been to explode, to demand why Kalim had brought a parrot into your office and created a scene worthy of a disaster movie.

But then Kalim turned toward you, still laughing despite the madness, his eyes bright with excitement and joy. He looked so happy, so full of life, and that grin—oh, that ridiculous, infectious grin—just melted away any irritation you might’ve felt.

You sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, but completely smitten.

"Why did you bring a parrot in here, Kalim?" you asked, not really expecting a logical answer.

"I thought it could help!" he said earnestly, ducking again as the parrot flapped by. "You know, for moral support! But I think it’s mad about the crackers I gave it—they weren’t the fancy ones."

Despite yourself, you snorted a laugh. Fancy crackers for a parrot. Of course.

Shaking your head, you rolled up your sleeves and waded into the chaos. "Alright," you said with a sigh, "how do we calm this thing down?"

"I knew you'd help!" Kalim beamed, his grin wider than ever as he accidentally knocked over another stack of books while trying to reach for the bird. "You’re the best!"

And just like that, any frustration you might’ve felt disappeared. It was impossible to stay mad when Kalim was around, when he looked at you like that, his smile brighter than the chaos surrounding you.

Sure, you should’ve been irritated—you definitely should’ve scolded him—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not when you liked seeing him happy like this.

The parrot screeched again, now perched on top of the chandelier, and you looked at Kalim, who was already planning his next attempt to capture it, enthusiasm never wavering.

"Alright," you muttered with a smirk, "let’s catch a parrot."

Because really, with Kalim, how could you say no?

The council chamber was as dull as ever. Endless discussions, arguments over treaties and trade, and the first prince droning on with his overinflated sense of importance. Once, you would have gritted your teeth and endured it, forcing yourself to care because you had to—because that was what duty demanded.

But now, with Kalim beside you, the air felt lighter. His presence added a quiet warmth, even in this room filled with scheming nobles and stifling protocol.

You caught Kalim sneaking glances at you, barely containing his grin, and he leaned in, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we snuck out? I saw this really nice restaurant on the way.”

You smothered a laugh, turning your gaze downward. You’d never dreamed you could feel such joy during these dreary meetings, but here you were, caught in this bubble with him, like the two of you were the only people in the room. His happiness became your own, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The first prince’s voice faltered, his expression darkening as he noticed the soft smile you were trying to hide. Anger sparked in his eyes, a sharp glint of resentment as he realized his plans to manipulate you had come to nothing. He looked at you and Kalim as if he were staring at an infuriating puzzle—one that needed to be destroyed.

That night, after a grueling day of meetings, you made your way to your chambers. The hallways were quiet, and the familiar comforts of your estate filled you with calm, but something felt off. Shadows stretched where they shouldn’t, moving unnaturally, as if they had a life of their own. Your instincts kicked in, and you quickened your pace.

You reached your shared bedroom, a flicker of movement catching your eye. There, in the corner, figures clad in dark robes converged around Kalim. His eyes widened, but before he could react, you lunged forward, fury blazing in your veins.

You fought them off with nothing but raw strength and sheer will, each blow desperate and ferocious. They struck at you, blades glinting, and you felt pain slice across your skin, but you refused to yield, refusing to let them get anywhere near him.

At last, the final attacker crumpled to the floor. You staggered, blood staining your clothes, the pain seeping into every limb, but Kalim’s arms were already there, catching you before you could fall.

His expression was uncharacteristically serious, his cheerful demeanor replaced by something sharp, regal—a reminder that he was no mere boy in love but the heir of a powerful family.

The doctor arrived, working quickly, and once you were settled in bed, Kalim took a seat beside you. His gaze was steady, intense, and for the first time, you saw the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the silent authority he usually kept hidden beneath layers of laughter and joy.

“Why did you fight them alone?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t have to—”

You shook your head, a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Because no one hurts you. Not while I’m here.”

His hand stilled, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “I didn’t have to stay, you know.” His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of a decision made long ago. “I’m not tied to this empire. My family’s influence is vast; we don’t need anyone’s approval. But I stayed… because I like being here with you. Because I…” His voice faltered, but his gaze held yours. “Because I love you.”

Kalim’s hand clasped yours, his fingers warm and steady. “The Scalding Sands will manage without this empire. And this place… it doesn’t deserve you. Not when it has hurt you like this.” His voice grew colder, a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Let it fall apart, for all I care. I’m done watching it drain the life out of you.”

For a long moment, you lay there, absorbing the enormity of his words. A world without the burden of duty, free from the endless cycles of treachery and expectation. And Kalim beside you, offering not just escape, but freedom, and a life filled with joy.

A soft laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I don’t care if the empire crashes and burns,” you murmured, your hand tightening around his. “I don’t care about any of it. I just want you.”

Kalim’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a promise of a new beginning. It was a moment that felt like the closing of one life and the opening of another, a vow sealed with warmth and certainty.

You both pulled back, breathless but smiling, a new, shared future blooming between you. And when you finally closed your eyes, your hand still in his, you knew you’d face whatever came next together, no matter where it led.

The final ball was as grand as ever, the ballroom filled with nobles dressed in the finest silks and jewels, their laughter and chatter a thin veil over the ever-present tension in the room.

You entered with Kalim by your side, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you like armor. The empire had always been a battlefield for you, but tonight… tonight, you were walking away from it all.

At the far end of the ballroom, the Emperor sat on his gilded throne, the golden imperial crest looming behind him. His eyes scanned the room lazily, but you could see the calculation in his gaze. Beside him stood the First Prince, his eyes narrowing at you the moment you entered. His jaw clenched, the flicker of rage barely contained beneath the surface.

You weren’t here to dance, though. No, tonight was about setting yourself free.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the center of the ballroom, Kalim’s presence a comforting warmth beside you. The chatter died down almost instantly, and all eyes turned toward you. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—what was the Grand Duchess planning now?

You gave them no time to speculate.

“Your Majesty,” you called out, your voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs. “I stand before you one last time to say this: I will no longer serve this Empire.”

The room fell into stunned silence, gasps echoing off the walls. The Emperor’s eyes darkened, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne tightly, but you didn’t stop.

“Your empire,” you continued, your voice rising, “is built on the backs of people far better than you. You are a rotten king. You speak of honor and glory, but all you do is send others to die for your own ambition. I bled for this empire, fought your wars, won your battles, and for what? So you could sit on your throne, pretending to be a ruler when you’re nothing but a coward hiding behind false titles?”

The nobles gasped again, their shock palpable. No one had ever spoken to the Emperor like this.

“And you,” you snapped, turning toward the First Prince, your eyes blazing. “You—who ordered the assassination of my husband because I rejected you—are even worse. A spineless coward with nothing to back your ego. You hide behind your father’s power, hoping that killing the man I love will somehow make me regret not choosing you. But I could never love someone as weak as you. You are pathetic.”

His face turned an ugly shade of red, his hand twitching toward the sword at his side, but you weren’t afraid. You had seen what he was capable of—nothing.

The Emperor finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You dare insult your emperor, the man who gave you your title?”

“I earned my title,” you snapped, stepping forward. “I didn’t need your permission or your favor to become who I am. You gave me nothing that I didn’t take for myself. And I’ll tell you this—I will never fight another war for someone as revolting as you.”

The Emperor’s mask of indifference cracked, his eyes blazing with fury, but behind it, you could see the desperation. He needed you. The Empire needed you. They couldn’t afford to lose you.

He leaned forward, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What do you want? Wealth? Power? I’ll give you anything. Just don’t walk away.”

You almost laughed at the irony of it—this man who had always acted like you were disposable, now begging you to stay.

But you didn’t need his power. You didn’t need his wealth. You glanced at Kalim, who stood beside you with that same warmth, that same unshakable love in his eyes. And in that moment, you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Kalim is enough,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I don’t need anything from you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, not sparing the Emperor or his pathetic son another glance. Kalim followed without question, his hand finding yours as you walked out of the ballroom, your loyal knights, butler, and maids falling in step behind you.

You could hear the stunned whispers of the nobles behind you, their shock hanging in the air like a tangible thing, but you didn’t care. You had walked away from the Empire, from its corruption, from its endless, soul-sucking games.

And now? Now, you were free.

As the cool night air hit your face, Kalim squeezed your hand, his bright smile lighting up the darkness. “So,” he said, his voice filled with excitement, “where should we go first on our adventure?”

You laughed softly, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

And with that, you ran. Away from the Empire, away from the pain of your past, toward a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were truly happy.

Masterlist

Other Parts in this series:

Part 1: Vil ; Part 2: Riddle ; Part 3: Lilia ; Part 4: Malleus ; Part 5: Azul ; Part 6: Leona ; Part 7: Idia ; Part 8; Jamil

[animasola86]

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, this part will continue in TWO DAYS! Stay tuned!

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[jhdyuiee]

unconditional

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ pairing: ex-bf!jaehyun x fem!reader

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ warnings/tags: smut!, angst (first day back & i’m breaking yall’s hearts, sorry!!!), unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, cum eating, marking/biting, smacking, tit/breast play, making out/kissing, fingering, name calling (good girl) and pet names (love), jaehyun is jealous type, rough jaehyun, cliffhanger/mysterious ending (also sad)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ w.c: 2.7k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ a.n: hi, jiji is back! hm, it’s been a while. in all honesty, this abrupt break i decided to take worked out in the end bcs school has been a big pain in the ass as of late & so writing has gotten hard. i also would like to apologize once more for honestly everything. however i am back now and yes, yes i know jaehyun leaves tomorrow… sigh, let’s just say that for now bcs if not i’ll start tearing up, lol. don’t forget to stay safe guys, i love you very dearly & thank you for waiting, i will be back with so much more! 🤍

the rain came pouring down hard and unexpectedly. you were not prepared for this at all, so you took shelter inside a cafe. you settled on waiting until the rain calmed down so you could go home.

staring at the gloomy weather made you rather gloomy as well. you never had fond memories of the rain, no dancing in the rain with your lover. instead, it was almost as if the rain brought your life some type of bad luck.

“y/n?” a male voice calls for you, causing you to turn.

your eyes widened, lips slightly parting at the person who stood in front of you.

“jaehyun?” you say lowly, low enough for the two of you to hear.

his face too changes, it’s almost like he’s trying to process it really was you who was in front of him. you took him in, noting how he hasn’t changed in the 5 years since you’d parted. in fact you’d say he got even more… hotter?

“it really is you,” he says breathlessly, to which you nod. “i-is the seat taken?” he asks as he points to the seat in front of you.

“n-no” you respond. he sits down, looking right at you.

“how have you been?” he starts off by asking.

“well… i-i suppose i’ve been fine. how about you?”

he thinks for a second before responding. “i could be better,” he says, chuckling. your heart nearly melting at the sight of his dimples, the very ones you used to adored.

he asks you more questions about how the past 5 years had gone, you too gaining insight on his past 5 years. there was never any mention if you or him were in a relationship during the past 5 years, it was almost like a forbidden topic.

you mindlessly turn to the window, noting how the rain had finally stopped but the clouds were still there. you didn’t know whether to leave mid-conversation or stay a while longer. it had been 5 years, 5 excruciating years without him… to leave him now was-

“are you going to leave?” his questions bring you back to him.

your mouth opens, then closes, and opens again but he interrupts. “don’t leave… not yet. instead, please stay with me for today y/n,” he asks.

you didn’t even hesitate, already settling on your answer before he even finished asking you. you two leave the cafe, you follow him walking alongside him under his umbrella. your head filled with the endless possibilities of how today could go and where the night would lead you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“y/n,” jaehyun whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

your hot breath tickled his ear as your eyes interlocked with his lustful eyes. you wanted him, he wanted you. it had been so long since you’ve felt not only his touch, but a touch at all.

“can i?” he whispers as his eyes are on your lips. you nod, inviting him in.

his lips crash onto yours, melting together as they once used to. he started off gentle, almost as if he were testing the waters before involving the kiss into something more rough and filled with desire. it brought you back to the days of 5 years ago.

his hands traveled to the back of your head, tugging on your hair. his tongue fighting its way inside you until it began crashing with yours. you started feeling weak, legs almost giving out but he held you. he pressed you against the wall, body nearly melting into yours. you could feel his hardened member as it pressed against you.

you moaned into the kiss, trying to say his name. he tugged on your bottom lip, finally departing from your lips. your eyes watery, face feeling hot all over. your dazed gaze finding jaehyun’s lustful one. jaehyun groans before sinking onto his knees. you knew where this was going, so you helped him.

you began taking off your shirt, bra, and unbuttoning your jeans, taking them off. just as you were about to take off your panties, his hands stopped you. “just open your legs for me,” he says, to which you obliged.

jaehyun gives you one last look before disappearing in between your legs. you felt his lips nip and kiss on your inner thighs, making sure to mark you up. his wet tongue licks your already soaked panties, moaning when he gets a small taste of you. a taste he has been dying to have for 5 years.

sliding your panties to the side he licks your cunt up once, getting a full taste of you now. jaehyun almost swears he’s addicted to you again. “how i’ve missed this taste,” he moans, meeting your eyes again before diving back inside you.

his tongue swipes up your slit one more time before using his two thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart. he lets his tongue intrude inside your entrance, sliding against your gummy walls. you moaned rather loudly at the intrusion, tightening around his tongue. jaehyun could feel as your walls throbbed around his tongue, his cock hardening at the thought of how your cunt would feel wrapped nicely around him. jaehyun cursed himself, finding himself too impatient.

you began chanting his name, crying it out with every fucking of his tongue. he found your voice so sweet, so beautiful like a song he could hear on repeat and never get tired of. your fingers grabbed onto his soft locks of hair, grinding yourself on his face. your clit rubbing against his nose, you felt yourself reaching your end already. jaehyun knew you far too well too, knowing you were reaching your end as well. so he grips onto your thighs, fucking his tongue quicker and when he feels your walls clench around him he pulls his tongue out.

you were left on edge, whining at the loss of sensation of not being able to cum. jaehyun didn’t look up, busying himself with kitty licking your cunt. he kissed your sensitive clit, once, twice, three times. so lost you failed to notice his two digits that already worked their way along your slit.

“j-jaehyun?” you asked hazily, looking down at the male as he already stared straight at you. “wha- oh my god!” you moaned out the last part when you felt his two digits plunge inside your soaking cunt. the squelching sound echoing in the doorway, you didn’t even worry about if your neighbors heard. you were far too focused on the way his fingers fucked inside you over and over so quickly. already sensitive from his tongue, you were close to cumming again.

“i-i’m gonna c-cum!” you breathlessly groaned, biting down on your lips so as to not shout again. jaehyun had no intention of leaving you on edge again, so he fucked his fingers into you faster and deeper. he attached his lips onto your clit, toying with it. he remembered how much you loved it when he would teasingly dote on your clit. jaehyun knew your body as if it were his first language.

you let out a gasp before you finally came all over his hand and face. you hadn’t cum like that in a while, your fingers only being able to pleasure you so much. jaehyun licked you up one more time before kissing your clit. he got up, holding your body up before you could fall onto the ground. your legs were giving up already.

he shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. “you did so good, love. was always such a good girl for me,” he whispers. his way of words, too, always turned you on.

when you finally licked him clean, he removed his hand from your mouth. in a split second his demeanor changes, his eyes turning more gentle. “as much as i wanna be inside you, i don’t have a condom. so-” you interrupt him. “i-it’s alright jae, please just… i wanna feel you.”

your words too turned him on, in a matter of seconds his pants and boxers were off. his aching cock standing proud. “jump,” he tells you.

you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist. your back still against the wall. his cock rubbed along your soaking slit before his leaking tip plunged into your entrance. 

“fuck- you’re so tight, no one fucked this pretty pussy while i was gone?” he groans. you didn’t respond, already drunk stupidly on his cock that was snugly wrapped around your gummy walls. it had been too long since you’d taken anything like his.

your eyes widened when you felt a smack against your ass cheek. “i asked you a question, or are you too drunk already to answer,” he says in a rough tone.

“uh, ye-yes b-but they don’t c-compare to y-you!” you moaned loudly when you felt him thrust into you rougher, deeper.

jaehyun was always the jealous type when it came to you, you were his and his alone is what he thought. in his world, no one was allowed to have you, it was the one thing he regretted when you two broke up. he couldn’t fathom the fact that some filthy bastard would be able to lay his hands on you, someone as tasteful as you.

“no one could leave you satisfied, right love?” he asks you, to which you just repeatedly say no. his mouth forms into a smile before his lips find themselves on your shoulder. his lips kiss along them, traveling to your neck, and jaw before coming down to your tits.

he pecks one of your tits before wrapping his mouth around your nipple. he accidently bites on your nipple when he feels you clench around his cock. jaehyun mutters a small curse as he kisses his way to your other breast. it receives the same attention as the previous one, only that this time he doesn’t accidentally bite your nipple.

“such perfect tits… were always my favorite,” jaehyun mutters, kissing your tit before parting from it. “now then, are you ready?” he asks you.

“y-yes please fuck me, be rough like you used to,” you said desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

jaehyun’s hands grip onto the bottom of your ass where he lifts you up slightly before plunging you back down on his cock, chucking at your choked out moan. you truly were the cutest, he loved you so very much.

he slides his cock in and out, out and in, of you. he groaned against your exposed neck as you repeatedly clenched around him. you couldn’t help it, jaehyun fucked you so deeper, cock reaching your womb with every thrust. it wouldn’t be long before you’d cum again.

crushing you to the wall, he secures you against it so he could maneuver one of his hands to your clit. he used his thumb to rub the poor thing, “cum, cum on my cock like the good old days love.”

and so you do, erupting around his cock that still fucked into you. you knew he wouldn’t stop until he came, so you waited, encouraging him with filthy words to get him worked up. it was doing the trick, you felt him twitch inside you.

“whe-where do you w-want me to cum?” he asks you, thrusting into you quickly, nearly at his release.

“in mmh-me!” you moaned, clenching around him. “a-are you sure?” he questions you.

“y-yes, i’ll buy a pill tomorrow– please, just please i wanna feel your warmth inside me~”

“fuck,” jaehyun curses, filling you up with his seeds. his lips crashing onto yours as you milked him of his cum.

he parts from the steamy kiss you two just shared to carry you to your bedroom. he still remember the layout of your apartment. jaehyun drops you on your bed, and you watch as he takes off his shirt, sneakily glancing at his still hardened member. your mouth is nearly drooling all the more.

“turn around, on your hands and knees love,” jaehyun says, watching as you obliged to his every word. he watched as you arched your back, ass sticking out nicely, leaking with his cum. he couldn’t resist smacking your ass, left and right roughly. you moaned against your bed comforter, clenching it tightly as you got smacked from behind. you feel his warm cum dripping down your thigh, you try clenching your entrance– jaehyun taking notice.

“how cute, trying to make sure it doesn’t slip out?” he teasingly says before jerking his cock, bringing it to your slit. he rubs against your juices and his cum before stretching your gummy walls once more. it was incomprehensible how tight you always were, just right for him– just made for him.

“how is it love? you always loved it when i took you from behind, didn’t you?” he continues to tease you. “i love it! i love your cock so much j-jae, so good~”

he gripped your hips tighter, tight enough to leave prints the next day. you felt as his tip touched your g-spot so clearly, reaching your womb with every thrust in. jaehyun watches as you begin to wiggle underneath, shaking your ass against him. he smirks, smacking your ass which jiggled from his touch.

a white ring formed around his cock, a mixture of you both. it oddly enough ignited him, fucking into you in rapid, deeper strokes. your tears and drool adorning the comforter. your tight walls hugging his cock tightly, and with one smack to your ass you came for a third time. you gushed all over his pelvis.

“good girl,” jaehyun mutters, continuing his ministrations before he too came once again. only this time he didn’t part from your pussy, fucking you in slow, gentle thrust.

by the time he finished, he laid on your bed. jaehyun was exhausted, and you were too but… you still had something up your sleeve. crawling to him you stopped on his side. “wh-what are you doin-” jaehyun gets interrupted mid-sentence when he feels your lips kiss his tip. he didn’t stop you, in fact he wanted you to continue.

you spit on his cock, jerking it as to spread your saliva along his shaft. your eyes traveling back to jaehyun who hungrily looked at you. going back to his cock you lower your head, opening your mouth so you could finally take him inside. you shoved his cock inside until the tip reached your throat, you gagged and groaned against his cock when you felt him twitch inside. staying like that for a while longer, trying to get accommodated. once you did, you started bobbing your head on his cock, using your tongue to lick along his shaft. never forgetting to tease his slit, something he loved.

you felt as one of his hands tugged on your hair, helping you to better move yourself on his cock. jaehyun was a mess, he felt blessed– praised the lords above. he tried thinking of the nastiest atrocities known to mankind as to not bust so quickly, but that proved to be an impossible task. i mean, how could he when you so beautifully wrapped your sweet mouth around his cock.

and so it wasn’t long before he came inside your mouth, your mouth feeling his warmth before swallowing it down. you now felt so full, unable to take anymore. jaehyun too, you milked him dry, taking all of him in you.

you crawled to him, laying beside him. he engulfs you into his embrace, kissing you so tenderly. you two were exhausted but for what it was worth, it wasn’t regretful. his hand strokes your back, playing with your hair. it was peaceful, so peaceful that you secretly wished for your days to be like this. you were almost lulled to sleep by jaehyun before you opened your eyes when he whispered into the quiet room.

“we’re unconditionally timeless, and so is our love.”

far too exhausted to reply back, you just smile. you snuggled into his body, melting into him before you drifted off to dreamland. however, it wasn’t until you woke up the next day and felt the cold that you knew. 

jaehyun was gone, gone from your life once more. the intimate night you two shared last night, his parting gift.

there was no getting back together, no peaceful nights where the two of you lay in each other’s embrace. you cried and cried that entire morning, and silently prayed for a day where you two could reunite again. for fate to align you two again because after all…

jeong jaehyun was your first love and last love.

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 03

final a.n: AHHHHH, jae leaves tomorrow. i don’t know what to do guys, like my man is leaving for the next 2 years. like what do you mean my man who has served needs to serve more?! consider this story as my last jaehyun fic while he is still a free man, lol, and no this doesn’t mean i’ll stop writing abt him. instead, think of this as a new beginning (?) okay i think that’s enough… i’ma go now! i hope you all enjoyed this read (wrote it in one day, very proud of my dedication after all the chaos school has brought me) and i’ll be sure to upload lots this month! stay safe, may we jaehyun fans make it until may 2026!

p.s: the cover picture makes me go feral, i just had to include it!

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓽wenty.

logan howlett and overheard conversation.

you had been feeling off for days. something nagging at you, pulling you into a spiral of self-doubt. it wasn't like logan to pull away. sure, he could be distant sometimes, but that was just him. you were used to his gruff exterior, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. but this felt different, and the thought had been gnawing at you, churning in your gut like a bad omen.

it was late afternoon when you overheard it. you hadn’t meant to listen in, not really, but it was hard to miss when logan’s voice carried through the hallway, rough and low. he was talking to someone - jean, you thought, by the sound of her voice.

"look, i just can’t be dealing with all that right now," logan was saying, and your steps faltered as you rounded the corner. you couldn't see them, but you could hear the frustration in his tone, the kind that made your heart sink. "too much… too fuckin’ clingy. i don’t have time for it."

the words hit you like a punch in the gut, knocking the air from your lungs. you took a step back, your pulse pounding in your ears. he wasn’t talking about you, was he? no, it couldn’t be. except… it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed how distant he’d been lately. the way he avoided eye contact, kept his replies short. it felt like he was pulling away, and now, you wondered if maybe that was exactly what was happening.

you withdrew to your room, the hurt settling deep in your chest, heavy like a stone. the days that followed blurred together, and you did your best to give him space. you weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push, to ask him what was really going on. so, you kept your distance, hoping that maybe it would help, that maybe it would make things easier on him.

logan, for his part, seemed to notice the change. you could tell from the way his brow furrowed when you didn’t meet his gaze, the way his hand twitched as if he was about to reach for you before thinking better of it. but he didn’t ask. and you didn’t say anything.

one evening, nearly a week later, you found yourself in the kitchen, the room dimly lit as you stirred a pot of soup on the stove. you tried to focus on the rhythmic motion, the heat curling against your face, but your thoughts kept wandering back to that day, to the sound of his voice saying you were too much.

"hey," logan’s voice came from behind you, startling you enough that you almost dropped the spoon. you turned to find him standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly at the way you tensed.

"hey," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "didn't hear you come in."

he grunted in acknowledgment, stepping closer, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give. "been avoidin' me?" he asked, his voice low, careful.

your fingers tightened around the spoon, and you turned back to the stove, forcing yourself to keep stirring. "just… been busy, that’s all."

"that’s fuckin’ bull," he replied, blunt as always. "somethin's goin' on with you. and don't try to tell me otherwise."

the words were right there on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out like a dam breaking. but the thought of confronting him, of opening up that wound, made your throat tighten. what if he confirmed it? what if he really thought you were too much? "i'm fine," you said, but even to you, it sounded hollow.

logan stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent of pine and leather. "you're not," he insisted, his voice gruffer than usual, like he was fighting to keep his own frustration at bay. "you’ve been avoidin’ me for days. if i did somethin’, you need to tell me, baby."

your hands trembled slightly, and you gripped the spoon harder to steady yourself. "it’s not important," you murmured, but the words felt like a lie. you turned off the stove, setting the spoon down before you faced him, your gaze dropping to the floor as your vision began to blur. "just… forget it."

logan reached out then, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, keeping you from retreating any further. "don’t do that," he said, and there was a rawness in his voice that cut through your resolve, fraying the edges. "don’t shut me out."

you swallowed hard, your throat tightening painfully. "i overheard you," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "the other day. you were talking to jean. you said… you said i was too much." you lifted your gaze, the hurt spilling out despite your attempts to hold it back. "if you don’t want me around, logan, you could’ve just said so."

for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unchanging. then, something in his gaze softened, and his grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as if grounding himself. "what the hell are you talkin’ about?" he asked, his brows drawing together in confusion.

"you said i was clingy," you said, the words rushing out before you could second-guess them. "that you didn’t have time for it."

logan’s eyes widened slightly, and then he exhaled a rough, almost exasperated breath. "oh baby… you got it all wrong," he said, shaking his head. "i wasn’t talkin’ about you. jean was askin' if i could help out with some training sessions. she was sayin' i was stretchin' myself too thin, takin’ on too much. that’s all."

the explanation hit you like a gust of wind, leaving you momentarily off balance. "you… weren’t talking about me?" you repeated, your voice small, almost fragile.

"no, darlin'," he replied, his tone rough but gentle. "never."

the relief washed over you in a wave, but it was tainted by the lingering sting of doubt, the way it had burrowed under your skin, making a home there. "i… i just thought…" you trailed off, biting your lip. "i thought you didn’t want me around anymore. you’ve been distant, and i didn’t want to be a burden."

logan’s jaw tightened, and before you could pull away, he was tugging you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a firm embrace. "you ain’t a burden," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "don’t you ever think that."

you hesitated for a moment, then let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms, pressing your face against his chest. his hand moved to your hair, stroking it gently as he held you close, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you, chasing away the remnants of your doubt.

"you scared the hell outta me," he muttered, his tone softening as his fingers continued to comb through your hair. "thought you were pullin’ away ‘cause you didn’t want me around anymore."

you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him a little tighter. "never," you whispered, the word catching in your throat. "just… got in my head, i guess."

logan’s hold on you tightened, and he shifted, pulling you into his lap as he settled back against the kitchen counter. his hand kept stroking your hair, and the other rested on your back, his thumb tracing gentle circles there. "you’re stuck with me, you know that, kid?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i ain’t goin’ anywhere. and i sure as hell ain’t gettin’ tired of you."

you let out a small, shaky breath, leaning into him, the weight of your earlier fears slowly melting away. "promise?" you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

logan huffed a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your temple. "damn right, i promise," he said, his tone soft and sure. "you’re it for me, darlin’. wouldn’t want anyone else."

the words settled over you like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart, and you nestled closer, letting the warmth of his embrace seep into your bones. there was a long stretch of quiet then, just the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his hand in your hair, and you let yourself drift in it, content to stay wrapped up in him for as long as he’d let you.

"you know," he said after a while, his voice a low murmur, "next time somethin’s botherin’ you, you gotta tell me, alright? can’t have you thinkin’ i’d ever wanna be anywhere else but with you."

you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "i will," you promised, your voice soft. "i’m sorry i… didn’t say anything sooner."

logan’s fingers curled in your hair, and he kissed the top of your head again, his lips lingering there. "it’s alright," he murmured. "we’re alright."

and for the first time in days, you believed it.

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[fatherbrat]

LET'S SNEAK, AOT MULTI

sum. various aot boys and how they fuck you while trying to keep your relationship a secret. inspired by lyrics from sneak by leon thomas :p

feat. eren jaeger. jean kirstein. connie springer. armin arlert.

cw. cheating/infidelity, missionary & doggy, face-sitting, a nasty blowjob, praise, riding/cowgirl, creampie, office sex, risky sex, hold the moan, reader has multiple orgasms, some angst if you squint, not proofread...

wc. 2.7k

EREN JAEGER “can i fuck you in the daytime, daytime? even though that pussy isn’t mine.”

Eren’s moral compass is a bit skewed.

But you wouldn’t dare tell him that. He’d only throw it right back in your face, claiming you're worse. You’re the one with a boyfriend after all. He’s single. Technically.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” Eren asks as soon as he crosses the threshold into your home. He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before pulling his shirt off.

You close the front door behind you and sigh. “He’s out of town. Look…” You hesitate, not really wanting to finish your sentence, even though you know it’s long overdue.

Eren turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience.” He doesn’t sound annoyed, or even surprised. More like…intrigued. Regardless, the words make you wince.

“He wants to take me to meet his parents,” you tell him, avoiding eye contact.

Eren lets out a whistle. There’s a moment of silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts, before you hear the sound of Eren unzipping his pants.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

He smirks. “I’m already here. Might as well go out with a bang.”

You don’t bother wasting any time pretending you weren’t hoping he’d say that. You strip, and almost immediately you’re pressed against a wall. Eren kisses you in a way that can only be described as needy, like he’s taking extra and stowing it away for later.

His hands are everywhere, squeezing and caressing and memorizing.

When he lays you down on the sofa, you aren’t expecting him to plant his tongue between your thighs.

“Eren–”

“Shhh,” he whispers, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “This is the last time, right?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “Let me savor it.”

He makes surprisingly quick work of making you come and kisses you right after so you can taste yourself on his lips. When he fucks you he does it slowly, agonizingly, eyes glued to your face as he watches your lips part when he bottoms out.

Your nails dig into his back. “Eren, don’t tease,” you huff. “Faster.”

He smiles down at you, shaking his head slightly. “You’re so impatient,” he says, clicking his tongue. “What happened to letting me savor it?”

You squirm beneath him. “Fuck savoring. Fuck me.”

Eren doesn’t need to hear you say it twice. He picks up the pace, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as he grabs your waist.

“Gonna miss this pussy,” he breathes against your skin. The way he says it is tender, a stark contrast to the rough way he pounds you. You wonder, just for a second, if he really means that he’s going to miss you.

But Eren can see your mind wandering. He taps your cheek.

“Hey. Pay attention. You haven’t come enough times to start losing your mind already.”

His eyes narrow as he takes in the sourness of your expression, unimpressed by his statement.

He huffs and pulls out. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around and get on all fours.”

You frown but comply. He rests one hand flat against your back, pushing you down into the perfect arch before he prods your slit with the tip of his cock.

“Gonna make you see stars,” he mutters, before burying himself inside you.

And he does. His rhythm is dizzying, and it has you biting into the couch cushions, groaning with every stroke.

His arm wraps around your hips so he can lay his hand flat on your lower belly. When he travels lower and starts to circle your clit, all the muscles in your core tighten. He doesn’t slow down when you reach your climax. In fact, you think he goes faster.

“Fuck, Erennn,” you whine, dragging out the last consonant of his name as you dig your fingernails into your palm.

“I know, I know. Takin’ me so well. One more.”

You try to remember what he’d always say, something about good girls coming in threes, or maybe third time’s the charm. Something that meant he’d always make you come three times before leaving. It’s hard to think of what it was when you can hear him slamming against your ass.

He draws out the third one in no time, calling you his good girl as you moan into the sofa.

It’s bittersweet when he pulls out, and you wish he would make you come in fives or something. Eren gives you a look that tells you he can tell what you’re thinking.

He presses his lips to your forehead as he pulls his pants on and you can sense the goodbye in it.

“Take care of yourself, mkay? I’ll see you around.”

You watch him leave, wondering if you’ll see him for real.

JEAN KIRSTEIN “know you wanna keep this thing discreet. hear you calling through the streets.”

You’ve molded Jean into the perfect fuck buddy.

He’ll drop everything to come over the minute you text, doesn’t spread your business around, and always makes you come first.

“Right there, right there, fuck.” You grind against his face, throwing your head back as your grip around the headboard tightens. 

Jean hums into your pussy as you orgasm, grazing his teeth against your clit as you ride it out. 

Your body goes limp and he swiftly comes out from underneath you, laying you down on the bed gently as he peppers kisses across your skin.

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” he says, not waiting for a response before leaving your room. 

You watch him go, a small smile sitting on your face. He’s become so attuned to you, always at your beck and call, willing to cater to you in any way you ask. 

It’s the kind of behavior that makes you want to suck his dick. 

So, when he returns from the kitchen holding a glass of ice water, you ask him. 

“Do you wanna throat fuck me?”

Jean freezes, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. You suppose you have—it’s been nine months since the two of you started fucking and you have yet to go down on him (not that he’s ever complained). Still, you’d be offended at the look he’s giving you if it weren’t for the obvious erection growing in his pants.

You tilt your head to the side, eyeing his crotch before meeting his gaze. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, suddenly unfrozen and eager. He places the glass on your dresser, slipping out of his sweatpants and moving towards you. 

Jean watches you roll off the bed and onto the floor, sitting up on your knees and looking at him with an expression that almost makes him dizzy.

Something feverish blazes in his eyes when he stands in front of you, and you have to work to keep the excitement off your face when he tugs down his boxers. 

He strokes his cock idly, watching you look up at him. “You sure?”

This time you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I’m sure.”

He taps his dick on your lips, tentatively, and you open up. He shudders when you run your tongue along the underside of his tip. 

Jean cradles your head in his hands as he pushes himself all the way into your mouth. There’s a shaky inhale from him when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Oh shit,” he breathes. 

You close your lips around him, hollowing out your cheeks, and something in him snaps.

The speed at which he thrusts into your mouth is almost violent, and he moans when you gag, the pads of his fingertips pressing harder into your scalp. He’s already sensitive from being rock hard the whole time you sat on his face, and his sloppy in-and-out, in-and-out motion drags your spit everywhere–your face, his pelvis, even your chest. 

The feeling of him hitting your throat makes your eyes water, and you feel him growing impossibly harder against your tongue when you look up at him with glassy eyes.

He doesn’t last long, not with you looking at him like that. He’s mumbling an apology as he fills your mouth, saying if you weren’t so perfect he would’ve lasted longer. You’re grinning as you swallow down his cum, watching how his eyebrows furrow as he looks at your neck, and he kneels down to kiss you immediately. 

When he pulls away, he’s looking at you with a soft sort of wonder. Admiration almost. A bashful smile pulls at his lips. 

“Can we do that again?”

CONNIE SPRINGER “she like rich niggas, i’m her type. bored at the crib, she tryna pipe.”

conniiieee come over, im bored ;)

Connie smiles to himself when he reads your texts, his dick nearly stirring to life at the implication of your messages.

Despite your agreement to keep your… situation lowkey, he always pulls up to your apartment complex on his motorcycle, practically alerting the masses that he’s about to come upstairs and rock your shit. 

You meet him at your front door, scowling. “Why do you always show up on that loud ass bike? I know you have a car now.”

Connie just smiles, scooting around you to come inside. “You keeping tabs on me, baby?”

You roll your eyes and kick the door shut. “Sasha won’t stop raving about how cool it is.” You do air quotes around the word ‘cool,’ trying to imitate the lilt in Sasha’s voice when she talks about it.

Connie drops his motorcycle helmet on the shoe rack by the door. “It is cool. If you’d stop being so stubborn and take me back I could take you for a ride.”

But there’s really only one kind of ride you’re interested in right now! Which is how you end up straddling him on the couch, pressing kisses into the side of his neck.

Connie’s hands rest loosely on your hips, letting you grind against him as slowly as you want. Your breathing is shaky, sweat coating your skin, a byproduct of the last four orgasms. You lift yourself off him on trembling legs, higher and higher until just the head of Connie’s cock remains inside you. You catch his eyes briefly, and the mirth swimming in them is the only warning you have for what he does next.

His fingers tighten their grip on your hips, tugging you back down on his cock harshly. A strangled sound escapes you, air catching in your throat with the sudden movement.

“Con-”

He kisses you, cutting you off as he bounces you up and down. 

“Last one, mama,” he says against your lips. 

You can feel an ache in your legs from them being bent underneath you for so long, your head is fogged up with leftover pleasure, and there’s a pressure building up deep in your stomach. This is why you keep letting him come over all these months after your breakup. He knows just how to wear you out.

Connie pulls you against him, chest to chest, and wraps his arms around you. He lets you rest your forehead against his as his cock brushes up against your g-spot, forcing moans out of you that can only be described as wanton.

“That’s it, baby. Nobody fucks you like this, huh?”

You shake your head, your nose nudging his. “Just you.”

Connie practically purrs in satisfaction, right before he comes inside you. You melt against him, the pressure in your abdomen releasing as you cry out. Connie’s lips sweep across your jaw, patient and gentle while he waits for you to come down.

When you do, he leans back, eyelids heavy with contentment. You can feel him softening inside you. You already know what he’s about to say just based on the expression he’s wearing, but you wait for him to ask before giving the same response you always do.

“Y’know we could do that all the time if you’d take me back.” He doesn’t sound as heartbroken as he used to, like he’s grown used to this back-and-forth the two of you have going on.

You give him a wry smile, wiping beads from the back of your neck. “We didn’t break up because the sex was bad, Connie.”

He kisses you then, soft and lingering. “Worth a shot.”

He cleans you up and you let him take a shower and rummage through your drawers for the few pieces of clothing you never returned to him. When he’s leaving, he throws a wink your way, picking up his motorcycle helmet with one hand and unlocking the door with the other.

"Text again soon, alright? Love you."

ARMIN ARLERT “always down for an afternoon delight, but i can never crash and spend the night.”

“We have to stop,” you whisper halfheartedly, tangling your fingers in Armin’s hair as he kisses you.

Armin smiles against your lips. “Why?” he asks, his hands traveling down the length of your pencil skirt. He starts kissing down your neck, mouth going lower and lower until his fingers reach the hem of your skirt.

He pulls your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch up around your waist. You giggle when he turns you around and gently presses your cheek against the door.

“I’ll get fired if HR finds out,” you say, arching your back as he pulls down your underwear. Your wet cunt feels a rush of cool air when he does, and you gasp when Armin plunges his fingers in. You feel the weight of his chin on your shoulder as he presses his chest against your back.

“But she’s so wet,” he whispers in your ear. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like that HR could find out.”

You neither confirm nor deny, just humming and wiggling your bare ass in response.

He chuckles, the sound traveling straight down to your core. Armin doesn’t give any warning before he slips himself inside you. He pulls you away from the door after the fact, covering your mouth with one hand and wrapping the other arm around your waist.

The hardest thing (other than Armin) about keeping your lunch “meetings” secret is the fact that neither of you are particularly quiet. Armin muffles your moans with his hand and muffles his own by biting into the junction of your neck and your shoulder. There’s nothing to be done about the sound of his hips slapping against your ass or his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. All the two of you can do is hope nobody comes back from lunch early and walks past the copy room on the fourth floor. 

(But anyways, where’s the fun in it without a little risk.)

You moan into Armin’s hand when he hits a particular spot and he slows. He uses the hand on your face to tug your head back. “So noisy,” he says, lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. “I know you want the whole office to hear, but don’t be so obvious.”

Your walls clench around him and he hisses, picking up the pace once more.

“You like thinking about our coworkers hearing you?” You shake your head, but the way your pussy squeezes him proves you to be a bold-faced liar. 

Armin’s teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hitching as his hips lose their rhythm. 

“Go ahead then,” he whispers against your skin. “Let them hear.” He moves his hand from your mouth and loosely wraps his fingers around your neck instead. 

Another moan threatens to escape you, but you refuse, rolling your lips between your teeth in an attempt to keep quiet. 

Armin bites you then, and you gasp loudly. His thrusts become careless as he frantically chases his own orgasm. He brings his hand back up to your face, this time slipping two fingers between your lips and pressing down on your teeth so you can’t close your mouth. 

You can hear the faint sound of footsteps that signal the end of your lunch break. A door opens, and voices become audible as your coworkers get closer.

Armin smacks your ass, hard, and it’s enough to pull you over the edge. The two of you come together, him sinking his teeth into your skin to suppress his own moans. You bite down on his fingers, but it does little to help. You’re positive the entire office can hear you screaming his name.

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

[pandapetals]

Chores

You try to get out of doing chores by flirting with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"I love you," you said, standing on your tiptoes to press a sweet, lingering kiss to Logan's lips, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look as you pulled back.

Logan narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and amused, "I love you too, but you can't say that just to get out of chores."

You sighed dramatically, making a big show of taking the laundry basket from his hands. "Fine," you huffed, "though it usually works."

Logan’s eyebrow shot up, his smirk widening. "Does it, now? Pretty sure it never works," he drawled, crossing his arms as he watched you with that glint in his eye.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Usually, I just look up at you with these adorable, puppy-dog eyes…" You leaned in closer, batting your lashes dramatically, “…and then you fold like a cheap lawn chair."

Logan scoffed, leaning back slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "I do not fold," he replied, though you could see the hint of a smile breaking through his mock-serious expression. "I’m not that easy, darlin’."

"Yes, you are," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I bet you’ll fold right now if I try hard enough."

Logan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms, looking down at you with a challenge in his gaze. "Alright, then," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, rough tone that always made your stomach flutter. "Let’s see who folds first."

You grinned, accepting his unspoken challenge. You sat the laundry basket down. "Fine," you said, stepping up close to him, your fingers lightly tracing the collar of his shirt. "I’ll just keep saying cute little things until you’re putty in my hands."

He chuckled, though you could tell he was already fighting to keep a straight face. "Go on, then," he challenged, his arms still crossed. "Give it your best shot, sweetheart."

You tilted your head, giving him your sweetest smile as you trailed a finger along his jawline. "You know, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met," you said softly, batting your eyelashes. "All gruff and rugged… but with a heart of gold."

Logan’s lips twitched, but he held firm, his arms tightening across his chest. "Nice try," he replied, his voice sounding a little strained. "But flattery ain’t gonna cut it."

"Oh, really?" You bit your lip, pretending to think, then leaned in even closer, your face barely an inch from his. "Did I mention that I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you? That I think about you every second of the day, even when I’m supposed to be doing something else?"

Logan let out a small, almost inaudible breath, and you could see his resolve beginning to waver. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew you were getting to him.

"That all you got, darlin'?" he murmured, though his voice had dropped to a whisper.

You smirked, sensing victory. "Oh, no," you whispered back, reaching up to gently trace your fingers along the back of his neck. "I’ve got plenty more."

Before he could react, you stood on your tiptoes, brushing your lips along the line of his jaw, then murmured against his skin, "You know you can’t resist me, Logan. You’re already melting."

Logan's breath hitched, and he exhaled slowly, the last of his resolve slipping away as he dropped his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, but his voice was soft, his eyes locked onto yours with that familiar warmth. "Fine. You win."

You grinned triumphantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. "See?" you whispered between kisses, "Told you you’d fold."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips quirking up in that lopsided grin. "You might’ve won this time," he murmured, "but don’t think I won’t make you pay for it later."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," you replied, your voice filled with laughter as he pulled you in again, his grip on you tightening.

[pickingupmymercedes]

What it means - Lewis Hamilton

warnings: bits of angst with the w15 but it's fluff through and through.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: the special for Lewis's laps on Senna's mp4 (there was not a single dry eye in that circuit, I guarantee)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The silence in our hotel room felt almost too loud, stretching on as I took off my shoes and let them fall by the door.

The day had been relentless and long, one of those that felt like a whole month.

I hadn’t known my shoulders could hold this much tension, hadn’t realized how every part of me was vibrating with something raw I couldn’t quite pint point yet.

I moved toward the window, looking out at the fading glow of São Paulo’s skyline, the bustling city alive with lights and sounds, so starkly at odds with the quiet turmoil I felt inside.

I could still hear the crowd’s cheers and chants from earlier, though they were little comfort.

This was Brasil, my home, and the Brasilian Grand Prix meant so much. For Lewis, for me, for all of us.

And it hadn’t gone anything like we’d hoped it could.

I barely registered Lewis sitting down on the edge of the bed, watching me carefully. His eyes, always gentle and observant, held that steady patience I’d come to rely on, though I couldn’t bring myself to look at him yet.

I just stayed by the window, the glow of the city casting a soft reflection back at me.

“So” he said finally, breaking the silence, his voice calm and measured. “What exactly are we sulking about?”

I closed my eyes, resting my head against the cool glass. “I’m just… frustrated” I managed, barely louder than a whisper. “I know it sounds bratty but I don’t even know where to start.”

He didn’t say anything, waiting for me to go on, that same unshakeable patience steady as a rock.

Turning back to him, I took a deep breath, my voice a bit shaky as I spoke.

“It’s the race. It’s the Brazilian Grand Prix. Your car was awful, and it didn’t have to be that way. You were out there fighting just to keep it on track, barely able to grip the corners, the rear end sliding all over the place like it’s trying to spin you out. It felt… reckless.”

I heard the edge in my voice, sharper than I’d meant it to be, but the frustration was bubbling up faster than I could control it.

“And you’ve got people here who love you. Gosh, so many people who are rooting for you—not even just because of who you are, but because of who you represent for them. And then today—” I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check, “it was like all of that, was …”

Lewis sat quietly, his hands folded, listening as I poured out words I hadn’t even fully processed myself. I let out a heavy breath, my heart pounding.

“And then there’s my family,” I continued, my voice a bit steadier now. “They came here to watch you, to be a part of this. And they love you and they see what you mean to Brazil, to me. It’s just…” I trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“It sucks” I admitted finally. “It fucking sucks”

He nodded, a small, understanding smile softening his expression. “It was awful out there. I felt every bit of it, just like you did.”

The rawness in his tone made my chest tighten, the disappointment so clearly mirrored in his voice. “But” he continued “I also got something I’ll carry with me forever.”

I swallowed, remembering him climb into that Maclaren MP4, the way he’d paused just before getting in, like he was soaking in the magnitude of it.

The entire crowd had gone silent, breath held collectively as Lewis, their adopted son of sorts, took his place in that piece of Brazilian history.

A pin could’ve been heard in that circuit as he drove around Interlagos. On a rainy Sunday, just like Ayrton had done so many times.

“I dreamed of watching something like that live for so long. But I could’ve never hoped to be the one to drive that car around here” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Since I was five, since I first saw Ayrton race on TV. He was my absolute hero, and I didn’t know much about the world back then, didn’t know what I could be, but seeing him… it made me believe. And today …” He shook his head, his eyes shining. “it felt like I’d come full circle. Like that little kid who once dreamed had finally made it.”

I found myself moving toward him, the sting of tears burning at the back of my eyes as I sat down beside him. He took my hand in his, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he went on.

“You looked… I could see how much it meant to you.” I whispered as I watched the way his face softened at the memory.

“Standing there, with that car, in front of all those people who’ve opened their hearts to me… It was a homecoming in every way.” he said, his eyes shining with a quiet pride.

“It took me a while to understand, you know. For the longest time, I thought the respect came from the trophies, the podiums, the points. But it has always been about Ayrton, about the fact that I’ve always looked up to him, just like you guys do. I think…” he hesitated, glancing up at me as he tried to find the words. “I think it’s about the way I see him like you guys do, not just a f1 driver, but as a symbol of what I could aspire to be.”

I bit my lip, feeling the burn of tears prickling at the back of my eyes. It had been easy to get wrapped up in the frustration of the day, to dwell on the setbacks, the disappointments, the what-ifs. But hearing him talk like this, seeing the reverence and gratitude in his expression, it got me out of my head.

“Yeah” I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady. “I saw my parents watching you. They had that same look in their eyes as everyone else in the crowd. They were in awe. Not of what you’ve done, but who you are.”

“And it’s not just any country, is it?” he responded, his voice dropping to a murmur. “It’s Brazil. Your country, my country now too, because of them and because of you.”

His fingers brushed gently against my cheek, wiping the tear away. “And I know how much you wanted today to go differently” he said, his voice warm, reassuring. “But this it’s bigger than any one race.”

I leaned into his touch, feeling the familiar steadiness of his presence seep into me. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“You care. That’s all it is. And you’ve got every right to feel frustrated.” he replied softly, his arm slipping around my waist.

I closed my eyes, letting his words settle. His warmth relaxing against the jagged edges of disappointment still clinging to me. And I finally let myself relax, my pulse steadying under his touch.

“You know,” he murmured after a pause, “driving Ayrton’s car… that was my way of saying ‘thank you.’ too. To him and to everyone who’s supported me here, even when it hasn’t been easy. It was my way of showing that I haven’t forgotten that little kid back from Stevenage”

I nestled into his embrace, feeling the ache of the day slowly ease away, replaced by a calm I hadn’t realized I needed.

“I’ll carry today with me forever.” he almost whispered, his voice like melody in the quietness.

I let out a chuckle, one that was more relief than joy. “You don’t have to convince me of that. Nor anyone, really. We all saw it.”

I looked up at him, seeing the gentle warmth in his eyes, the quiet strength that had always drawn me to him. “I’m proud of you” I whispered, my voice catching. “For everything. For honoring Ayrton, for the way you’ve embraced Brazil, for everything you’ve done, and mostly for everything you are.”

I reached up, covering the side of his jaw with my hand as I let out a shaky breath, absorbing everything. His eyes softened, and he took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, preparing to let me further into this part of his heart.

“When I first slid into that car…” he began, his voice hushed and raw “It hit me, just how much this place has shaped me. I mean, I’m not really from here, but every time I race here, every time I see this place, it’s like … I belong.”

He paused, grabbing my hand before looking out toward the window, the city’s lights casting faint reflections in his eyes. “Like… they see something in me that I’d almost forgotten was there. That part of me that’s still that little boy only watching a race, the part that was told ‘no’ so many times, but kept going anyway.”

Lewis seemed to sense the shift in my mood, and a subtle smile tugged at his lips. “And” he began, a playful glint brightening his tired eyes, “I got to make a few couple of grown men tear up a little out there.”

I let out a surprised laugh, feeling some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. “You mean you didn’t join them?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, kept my cool. Just don’t ask Viviane to confirm that.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. “Right, Mr. too tough to get emotional.”

He chuckled softly, then leaned back, looking thoughtful again. “Honestly, though… driving that MP4 today? It was like stepping into a different world. That car was something else. Made me think, maybe we’re doing things wrong with all these tech-heavy cars nowadays.”

I smiled, glad to see him loosening up. “So, is that 90’s McLaren better than your Mercedes?”

“Yeah” he replied without hesitation, a mischievous glint in his eye. “That McLaren, it has a soul, like it wanted to race just as much as I did. The W15 has a temper and it’s always trying its hardest to throw me off track”

I laughed, feeling the weight of the day slipping further away. “Guess we could try and convince them to swap your car for a classic.”

Lewis squeezed my hand, grinning as he met my gaze. “Only if you promise to be there to cheer me on, every single lap.”

"Always" I smiled as I took a deep breath, letting the emotions settle like dust after a long day.

“He would have been proud of you.” I whispered squeezing his finger back, my voice barely a breath. “For everything you are, for everything you stand for.”

He closed his eyes but the emotion was clear in his voice “Then I guess all I can do is keep showing up” he murmured “for him and for all of us.”

______________________________________________________________

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[thecharacterchronicler]

Craving (Part 5) || Coriolanus Snow || Smut

Outline: After many attempts, you’re finally pregnant but you need Coriolanus’ help to induce labor.

Word count: ~ 4’000

Warnings: marriage of convenience, pregnancy, explicit smut.

Author’s note: I finally felt like continuing this series but I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a while since I wrote anything, especially in English, so my apologies if I missed some mistakes while editing this.

(( Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler )) - (( Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top )) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable )) - (( Part 4 - The Bitter Taste Of My Fury )) - (( Masterlist ))

He still remembered how you told him the news, so casually, standing in his office and interrupting his work. He didn’t mind, the moment you had walked in, all his senses went wild, his body alert and ready like you had somehow managed to train him to react that way to the infernal curves of your body. It was a day like any other day, he imagined you were visiting him in hopes to put the small amount of time he spent home to good use. Especially with how nice you looked in that dress, the fabric highlighting all the curves and dips he so enjoyed to touch… But, instead of approaching him. Instead of sitting on his lap or bending over his desk with your dress pulled up for a quick - but efficient - hookup, you remained on the other side of his desk, a nervous expression on your face that he noticed right away.

“I’m pregnant.” You told him, dropping it like a bomb. If his blood had rushed down straight to his cock the moment he saw you, it took another turn as he heard your words, making his veins buzz with adrenaline. And maybe a bit of fear too.

But what was there to be scared about ? He was Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, youngest - and most brilliant - head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and a wealthy and powerful man, nothing scared him… Especially not a baby. Yet, he felt his hands tremble slightly as he ran his fingers in his hair, trying to process your words and figure out a proper way to react to them but he felt lost and probably a bit dumbstruck too.

The fact that you seemed to be waiting for his approval, his congratulations or something - anything - only made it worse. He was a charming, charismatic politician, able to play with words to his advantage, he always knew exactly what to say and when to say it… But the news had rendered him silent. Or maybe it wasn’t the news, but the fear that seized him at the throat when he had heard it.

His voice was gone. His lips were sealed. But he found a bit of strength to nod at you, quietly. You gave him a cold nod back and turned around, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring of his office before your mesmerizing silhouette disappeared behind a closed door.

And that was when he realized… That was exactly what he was so scared about. Not the pregnancy, not the baby itself but you, returning to your life as if he no longer existed in your eyes now that you had fulfilled your part of the contract.

He knew it was a selfish fear, coming from a man who barely knew anything about you a few months prior. But now, he knew how to make your body react to his touch, he knew that you liked it when he was rough when fucking you and he knew exactly what to do to get you to cry out in bliss. And he dreaded the idea of never putting all that knowledge to good use ever again.

A few months later and he almost was used to the distance between you both again. His political duties were consuming the most of his time and energy so, even if you still haunted his every thought, he barely had the opportunity to feel miserable about it, too busy having to put up a show of perfection for his electors.

Every once in a while, he met you for lunch or supper at the manor, always surprised by how round your belly was getting. It seemed to him that it kept inflating like a balloon day after day. The bump you carried with you was a constant reminder that you were about to give him an heir yet, he never felt so feral at the idea of fucking you and breeding you. The way all your outfits always seemed too tight around your chest, your breasts so swollen that they seemed desperate to spill out of the fabric of your clothes, how your hips looked larger and wider than before, enhancing the shape of your body and making you resemble a work of art… All of that was close to making him lose his mind with the intense desire he felt for you.

But, despite his desperate need for you, he was determined to respect your wishes. If you no longer wanted him to touch you, now that you were about to give him what he had asked of you, then he wouldn’t force you to accept him, even though he knew very well that he could. He didn’t even try to take his frustration out on another woman, because none of them compared to you. All he had left was his hand and the blurry memories of your body and how it felt when he was buried inside you.

“Mrs Snow.” He greeted you, casually, as he always did so that there was no way for you to be able to tell what effect the sight of you had on him.

“Mister Snow.” You replied, taking your seat at the end of the table.

He liked when you called him like this, even if it sounded cold and distant. In the intricacies of his mind, he firmly believed that it was your way of calling each other pet names.

“The pond you wanted to add to the greenhouse is finished.” He told you, hoping that small talk would help him focus on something other than the plumpness of your lips.

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding, as two of your house employees placed a plate of fuming food in front of each of you. Coriolanus found it odd to see you react with such little enthusiasm, considering that the pond was one of the few things you had asked in exchange of giving him an heir.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, as unpleasant images of your body in a hospital bed and thick smoke danced in his mind.

“Absolutely.” You replied, in a tone that meant the opposite.

He watched as you shoved a huge piece of filet mignon in your mouth, chewing with determination. He decided to do the same, carefully cutting his meat in small cubes before bringing one to his lips. His tongue instantly tingled in reaction, his tastebuds catching fire as he struggled to chew and swallow the overly spicy piece of meat. He tried to put out the fire in his mouth and throat with a big gulp of water but the numbness that the burn left in its wake almost felt worse.

Coriolanus looked at the avox standing by the door, wondering if somehow, one of his servants had attempted to poison him but then, his gaze landed on you, chewing on your meal as if the spice barely affected you.

“What is going on with the chef ? It’s the third time this week that we’re served spicy food.”

“It was a request of mine… I was hoping for something stronger, I’m a bit disappointed.” You replied, placing a slice of pepper directly on your tongue.

“Why would you want to eat… This ?” He asked, unable to conceal the expression of disgust that appeared on his face.

“I read that it helps to induce labor.”

Coriolanus almost choked on his water at your words, he wiped his mouth with the luxurious napkin placed on his lap before looking back at you, skeptically.

“Isn’t it a bit early for such experiments ?”

“Early ? I’m over forty weeks pregnant and there are no signs of the baby coming out anytime soon.” What ? Forty weeks ? How was this possible ? If the time he spent longing after you felt like an eternity, surely his daily life didn’t seem to be passing by as quickly. “I want this baby out, I won’t be able to stand being pregnant much longer.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, finding your distress a bit amusing but, judging from the way you were glaring daggers at him, you did not agree with him.

“It’s not so bad, is it ?”

Your eyes darkened for a moment and he wondered if you were plotting his demise.

“Are you kidding me ? My whole body aches constantly, I’m hideous and our baby won’t let me sleep because he or she is too busy kicking my bladder from midnight to morning.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, hiding his smile by taking another sip from his glass because he knew you might kill him if you caught it. “I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can.” You answered, a spark of something unusual in your eyes. Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at you, wondering what he could possibly do to take away a bit of your discomfort. Whatever it was, he was willing to give it a try and that made him realize that, maybe, sex wasn’t the only thing he cared about after all.

You winced and before he could ask you what was wrong, you stood up to join him by the opposite end of the dining table, placing his hand on your belly, where your skin was stretching out under your baby’s ferocious kicks.

“See, I swear he does it on purpose.”

Coriolanus didn’t answer anything, amazed but what he felt under his palm. Life he had helped create, moving and stretching, right there inside you. It was unbelievable.

“It must be… Uncomfortable.” He finally managed to say, keeping his hand there for a moment longer.

“Very.” You confirmed and, when he looked at you again, he noticed the soft blush coloring your cheeks. “I was told that orgasms are another good way to induce labor.”

He took his hand off of your belly like it had burned him. He wasn’t used to you being so… Blunt. The proposition was tempting, extremely tempting, especially since he hadn’t touched you since the moment you had told him your efforts had paid off and you were finally pregnant. Even if, most nights, he couldn’t sleep, thinking about how he missed fucking you. He missed how you moaned his name and how you cried out in pleasure. How your pussy perfectly fitted his cock each time. How good it felt to be inside you and how much he loved the fact that everyone in Panem knew that you were his.

It was impossible to refuse what you were asking of him now, not when all he had been thinking about for the past 40 weeks was how different your body must feel now, with your breast so much bigger and tender looking, your hips wider, and that round stomach that would bounce with each of his thrusts. But if the goal was to get you in labor faster, then he couldn’t do it. Not if it meant taking the risk to shorten his time with you, if anything went wrong and he lost you… If he could never see your beautiful face again, fuck your perfect body until he was satisfied and hear the way you laughed at other politicians’ bad jokes, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from such heartbreak. Because that was what it was, even though he fought against it with all his might.

He loved you.

“I think you should rest, the baby will be here soon enough.” He told you, his chest tight with the realization of his feelings for you and his body begging for him to change his mind.

“Please.” You pleaded, taking a step closer to play with a button of the burgundy vest he was wearing. “Don’t make me beg, Mister Snow.”

He would do anything for you and you knew it, didn’t you ? All you ever had to do was ask nicely and it was yours. This request was no exception, he couldn’t say no. Not when his cock was throbbing with desire in his pants and his body was calling for yours like a magnet desperate to connect with its rivaling force.

There was no guarantee that this old wives’ tale would work and provoke the birth after all. And he couldn’t pass up on this opportunity to be inside you once again, fill you up with his cum, one last time before he’d avoid it at all cost after that. He was determined to not get you pregnant again, not if it wasn’t necessary, the risk of losing his most valuable possession - you - in childbirth was far too high to take.

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes scanned your voluptuous body with hunger. The sight of your lush curves and the scent of your perfume filled the room, a heady aphrodisiac that made his cock throb painfully in his pants. With a low growl, he stood from his seat, grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer, and pressed his thickening erection against the soft mound of your belly.

Without a word, he scooped you up and sat you down gently on the polished mahogany table gleaming under the soft glow of the pendant light. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body, caressing your swollen breasts and tracing the curve of your hips. His fingertips grazed your clit, and you gasped, arching your back.

Your pussy was a wet, already soaking the crotch of your silky panties, leaving a damp spot on the fabric that grew darker by the second. He slid his hand down to feel the heat emanating from your core, and his cock grew even harder at the thought of plunging into your tight, wet warmth for the first time in such a long time.

He took his time, tugging your dress off and unhooking your bra, revealing your swollen breasts in all their glory. He took one in his mouth, sucking your nipple with a hunger that only a man who hadn't tasted his wife's flesh in weeks could muster.

You reached down to unbuckle his pants, your eyes never leaving his as you freed his cock. It sprang forth, thick and veiny, the head a dark, angry shade of purple. You stroked it gently, your thumb circling the precum that had gathered at the tip, smearing it along his shaft and making it glisten. He groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily at your touch.

The tension grew as you stood before each other, naked and wanting. Your belly, a testament to the love and lust he felt for you, served as a tantalizing reminder of the passionate moments you shared. He stepped between your legs, his cock standing at attention as he leaned in to kiss your pussy, his tongue sliding along your slit and teasing your clit. You threw your head back, your hair cascading over the edge of the table. His tongue delved further into your depths, savoring your taste, while his thumb played with your clit in slow, deliberate circles. Your moans grew louder, your body tightening around his mouth as you approached your climax.

He glanced at you, mesmerized by how your breasts heaved with each ragged breath you took, the sensation of his mouth on your most sensitive flesh driving you wild. Your hands clutched the edges of the table, your knuckles white with the effort of holding on as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Finally, your climax crashed down on you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out in ecstasy. He didn't stop, though, his tongue lapping up your sweet release as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

With a smug smile, he straightened up and positioned his cock at the entrance of your slick pussy. He paused for a moment, your eyes locked in a silent challenge, before he thrust into you with a force that sent shockwaves through both of your bodies. You were tight, tighter than ever before, and the sensation was both painful and exquisite. You both gasped as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you to the limits of your new capacity. Your walls clamped down around him, a velvety vice that seemed to pulse with every beat of your racing heart.

His hips slammed into you, his cock plunging deep inside you with each powerful stroke, while you met him thrust for thrust, your heels digging into his backside. The friction of your skin was electric, sending sparks of pleasure along every nerve ending as you pushed each other closer and closer to the brink.

You could feel your orgasm building again, a slow burn that started in your toes and worked its way up your body. You reached down to rub your clit, your fingers slick with your juices, and your pussy contracted around his shaft, urging him deeper. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the thought of you coming again was almost too much for him to bear. He gripped your hips and drove into you with renewed vigor, his own orgasm fast approaching.

Your bodies moved as one, your hearts racing in sync. With each thrust, he grew more desperate, more frenzied, his breath coming in gasps and moans. And then, with a final, guttural cry, he erupted inside you, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. He felt your pussy clamp down around him, milking every last drop as you shuddered through your own climax, your walls pulsing with the force of your pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting and spent, your bodies entwined and your hearts racing. Then, with a sly grin, Coriolanus whispered in your ear, “I’m willing to help you out like this whenever you want.”

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[ylangelegy]

watch and learn ♾️ minghao x reader.

“show, don't tell.” # day four of (the)8 days of minghao.

☆ includes: mature content, mdni. alternate universe: non-idol, art student!minghao, f!reader, best friends & roommates, pet name (‘pretty’), cussing, nude modeling/drawing, fingering, implied oral [m receiving]. word count: >4,000

It takes you all of five minutes to figure out why your best friend-slash-roommate looks like the world has crashed down on him.

The answer comes in the form of a piece of art on the coffee table. You crane your neck to check the bright red mark on Minghao’s latest homework. “A grade of ‘B’ isn’t so bad,” you offer, even though you can already see how he’s going to react from a mile away. 

Sure enough, he shoots you a sidelong glare that would be withering if you hadn’t been on the receiving end of it for years.

“That’s what the ‘B’ stands for,” he deadpans. “Bad.” 

You’ve long since reconciled with Minghao’s tendencies when it came to his academics and his art. With a half roll of your eyes, you settle down onto the couch next to him. The offending assignment stares up at you. 

“It’s not bad,” you say as you eye the piece. In your honest opinion, it really isn’t terrible. A part of you must admit, though, that it’s not really up to Minghao’s usual standard. The strokes are not as defined; the edges are a little rough. 

What’s supposed to be a piece for his The Art of the Human Form class looks more like something akin to abstract impressionism. 

Minghao lets out a low sound of displeasure at your feedback. “You don’t understand,” he says frustratedly. 

When you don’t immediately respond, he runs a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I just— I really need to pass this class.” 

You give him a reassuring pat on his knee. For a moment, the two of you just sit on the couch, staring down at the homework that’s brought him so much grief. “What’s your issue with the class, anyway?” you ask after a long moment of silence. “Is it the professor?” 

“No, the professor’s good. Great, even.” 

“Your material?” 

“That’s never been the problem.” 

“Well, what is it then?”

A groan slides past Minghao’s lips; he lets his head fall on to the back of the couch. You turn to glance at him and you see the way his face is contorted with defeat. The words he speaks next sound like they were an actual struggle for him to verbalize.

“I’m not good with live models,” he admits. A beat. He seems to realize that you’ll see right through him, so he adds, “Nude live models.” 

You sink your teeth into your lower lip. Minghao catches the telltale sign of you holding back your laughter and he turns to glance at you again. “What?” he grumbles.

“You’re too… polite, Hao,” you say delicately, leaning back against the couch until your shoulders are pressed against each other. 

“You think I’m a prude.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You were thinking it. ‘Polite’ was just your way of letting me down gently.” 

This time, you don’t hold back the fond giggle that escapes you. It was no secret that Minghao was a bit of a prig. When asked about his lack of experience with dating or intimacy, his answer had always been the same: Too busy. Too busy with uni to fuck around and find out, to mess with people he didn’t really care about. 

Some of Minghao’s annoyance seems to ebb at the sound of your laughter. He gives a slight shake of his head like he’s ridding himself of an unbidden thought before saying, “Maybe I should just drop the damn class.” 

You nudge him in the side with your elbow. “You’ve never given up on anything in your life,” you chide. “Don’t start now.” 

The platitude does very little to lift Minghao’s mood. He goes into a rapid-fire tangent about his gripes with the class, ranting about everything from the models to his coursemates. You zone out a bit— knowing it was sometimes for the best to let your best friend go on and on— until you feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket. 

Right. You had a study session. 

You try to extricate yourself from the conversation by cutting through Minghao’s tirade with an absentminded, “Well, if you ever need my help, you know where to find me.” 

That shuts him up. 

“Wha— what?” he stammers. 

Both of you fall into a terse moment of silence. It’s like you’ve just realized what you said, what you’ve implied, and you mentally curse yourself for spacing out to the point that you’ve suggested something so out of left field. 

You rise from the couch without glancing down at Minghao; a part of you thinks this might give you some more courage to double down, to feign nonchalance. “If you need any help with the class,” you say as breezily as you can manage. “Like, if you need somebody to model for you or something.” 

There’s an almost distressed way to how Minghao says your name, then. “I’m supposed to work with nude models,” he repeats, like he’s not unsure you caught it the first time. 

“I’m aware.” 

“Are you—” 

“Only if you need it, Hao. It’s not that deep.” 

It is kind of that deep, honestly. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of its chest, but you do your damndest to keep your expression neutral as you go to grab your things. You’ve never been so grateful to have a valid excuse to cut your time short with your roommate. 

“If it’ll help you stop complaining,” you joke in a bid to inject some levity in the conversation. “Then I’m all for it.” 

He only lets out a disgruntled mumble in response. His words are incoherent, lost in the way you’re already halfway out the door. 

You call out your usual goodbye. “Text me what you want for dinner.” 

His typical response— “Take care”— hits just as the front door closes behind you. You might’ve imagined it, you think, but Minghao’s voice sounded just a little bit strained around the two words. 

It takes Minghao two weeks to come to a decision. 

Clearing his mind helped, but it’s really the most recent graded assignment that gets underneath his skin. A ‘C’. Minghao has never gotten a ‘C’ in all of his years of art school.

You’re working on something by the dining table when Minghao bursts into your shared apartment. 

“Does the offer still stand?” he spits out before he can change his mind. 

“Hm?” You glance up at Minghao, unsuspecting as ever. “What, getting pizza for dinner? I mean, yeah.” 

Your nightly text exchanges about what to have for dinner is the last thing on his mind. He takes a fortifying breath, his fingers clutching tightly around the strap of his messenger bag. 

“Not dinner,” he grits out. “The other offer.” 

Good Lord, he thinks with despair as you stare up at him skeptically. I’m really going to have to spell this out. 

He decides to go for the ‘show, don’t tell’ route. He fishes through his bag until his fingers snag his latest graded homework. Wordlessly, he crosses the room and sets it down next to your laptop. 

Your expression of confusion gives way to one of something that resembles sympathy. “Oh, Hao,” you say, and the words grate in his ears.

“I don’t need your pity.” His sharp words are dulled by the way he’s raised his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture of sheer exhaustion. “I just need to practice.” 

The realization of your flippant offer being taken seriously seems to dawn on you. Minghao wants to die then and there. He’s already backtracking, attempting to take it back before you can say a word. 

“Forget it,” he says. He can only hope his ears don’t look as red as they feel. “That was stupid.” 

Your hasty call of “no, no” has him freezing. “Sorry, I just— wasn’t expecting it tonight,” you say. 

Minghao can’t even look you in the eye without wanting to die of shame. You go on, your voice cautious as ever. “The offer still stands. Of course it still stands.” 

He attempts to sputter out some words about you not having to do this, about not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re already getting to your feet. “Don’t make this weird,” you reprimand him. 

“But this is weird,” he protests weakly.

“I’m your roommate. I’m your best friend!”

“That’s precisely why this is weird.” 

You’re standing in front of him, now, trying to rearrange your expression into one of sternness. It doesn’t really do much, considering the way you’re at least a head shorter than him. 

“I’m the best shot you’ve got.” You plant your hands on your sides and tilt your chin up. There’s a hint of a challenge in your gaze. “So what’ll it be, Xu?” 

“No need to pull out the surname,” he says dryly. After going through a single, quiet prayer in his head, he jerks his head towards the living room. “Let’s go at it, then.” 

“Now?” 

“When else?” 

It’s your turn to blush this time. Minghao tries his darndest to keep a straight face as you stumble over your complaint. “I haven’t showered yet—” 

“That’s nothing new to me,” he shoots back, earning him a swat to the chest. He rubs at the spot you hit before grumbling, “Fine, fine. How long do you need to get ready?” 

“I’ll be quick,” you promise him as you dart off to the bathroom. Minghao resists the urge to say that he doubts it. 

His worries aren’t unfounded. By the time you emerge from your ‘quick’ shower, over half an hour has passed. He’s doodling absentmindedly in his sketchbook when he hears the door creak open. 

“About goddamn—” The last word catches in his throat as he turns to face you. 

Minghao has seen you in various states of undress in your years of friendship. He’s seen you in the skimpiest outfits before heading out clubbing, seen you in sinful bikinis during your yearly beach trips. But this? The sight of you in a beige bathrobe with the belt left untied, revealing a hint of your bare front? 

He clutches his pencil so tightly that he’s scared it’ll snap. 

“About time,” he manages, even though he’s not entirely clear what he’s referring to.

It takes an hour for you to regret your offer. 

Once the initial shyness had passed, all that was left was the restlessness. Minghao had put one of the dining room chairs in the living room for you to pose on, and you’ve spent the better half of the past sixty minutes just sitting there with your feet flat to the ground.

It’s surprisingly easy to comply with Minghao’s mumbled requests. Shift a little to the left. Move your hand to your thigh. Stop moving. 

The last command is muttered with a lot more frequency. When you try to cross your legs. Stop moving. When you go to scratch your elbow. Stop moving. When your eyes wander over to some nondescript point in the room. Stop moving. 

“You’re brutal,” you rumble after his nth ‘stop moving, please’. “This is inhumane.” 

“You signed up for this,” Minghao answers, his gaze briefly flitting over his sketchbook before going back to his work.

There’s something undeniably attractive about the way Minghao’s fingers are clutching his graphite pencil. A lot about him was attractive— the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the purse of his plump lips as he worked. But his fingers were a whole other monster all together. Long and lithe, with the nails painted to whatever he thought matched his flavor for the week. You can almost imagine what those fingers would look like in your—

Minghao drags you out of your unbidden daydream with a call of your name.

“Could you tilt a bit to your right?” he says gruffly. You scramble to comply, almost like you’re terrified he might have heard your thoughts if you didn’t move fast enough.

He lets out a small ‘tch’ of disapproval at just how much you twist. “Not like that,” he protests, putting his pencil down for the first time in the past hour. “Only about an inch. No, no—” 

“Pose me, then.” 

Where did this brazenness come from? You think that your tenseness is partly to blame, but there’s also an undercut of provocation in your tone. Surprise flits across Minghao’s expression for only a moment. 

He schools his expression into something more neutral as he places his sketchbook face down on the couch. This is a bad idea, you think, as he crosses the distance between you in small, measured steps.

It’s a bad idea, you muse, because if he touches you, he might just feel the rapid thump, thump, thump of your pulse. 

If he does notice, he makes no indication of it. His gaze is perfectly cool as he gently holds your shoulders. You can see the pencil marks on the side of his palm, the smudges of graphite transferring to your otherwise unblemished skin. 

Minghao does as you’ve asked. His pushes are light as he maneuvers you to angle yourself some certain way, and you swear there’s not a single breath of oxygen in the room. 

“There,” he’s saying as he goes to take a step back. 

Something akin to panic rises like bile in your throat. You don’t know why, you don’t know what has possessed you, but one of your hands shoots out for Minghao’s retreating form. He pauses when your fingers wrap around his wrist.  

“Where—” The words escaping you are almost a gasp. “Where do you want my hands?” 

Minghao looks down at you, his eyes imperceptibly wider now despite his attempt to keep calm. “Right where you had them,” he replies. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat, your hand sliding down to clasp his instead. “I— forgot where they were,” you say. It’s a lame excuse, but Minghao doesn’t seem like he’s about to call you out on it. “Show me again?” 

His hand is limp in your hold. For a long, terrible minute, you think you’ve overstepped. 

Then, something in Minghao’s jaw twitches. The hand that’s holding yours pushes your arm, just enough for your elbow to rest on the back of your chair.

He goes to position your other hand right over your upper thigh. Near where you want it, where you need it, but not quite there. 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you bite back a groan of frustration. Minghao catches the look on your face.

“Why?” he asks quietly, his voice a touch tight. “Uncomfortable?” 

“No.” You freeze at how your response comes out almost like a whine. Minghao freezes, too. 

You try to think of propriety and professionalism. You try to think of your years-long friendship with Minghao; of how awkward it would be to keep being roommates if you’ve somehow overread into this situation. 

All that goes out the window as you shift your hand slightly upward. His hand— the one still on top of yours— follows as your fingertips brush over your core. Your tone is shaky as you prompt, “It would be better here, no?” 

Minghao’s gaze snaps from your hand near the apex of your thighs, to the barely-concealed heat burning over your cheeks. His sharp features are perfectly controlled but there are the smallest signs spurring you on. His dilated pupils, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“You want it here?” He isn’t moving his hands. He also isn’t moving away. He looms over you, one hand holding your upper arm; the other, still close to your center. 

“I’m open to suggestions,” you say, your eyes roaming over his face for any signs of discomfort. 

A beat. And then—

Torturously slow, Minghao begins to move. He guides your hand closer to your heat until your fingertips are pressing a little more firmly against your entrance, where wetness is already beginning to pool. You clench around the feeling of nothing as Minghao remains careful about not letting his own fingers touch you just yet.

“I think this is good.” His voice is lower now. “What do you say?” 

You feel like your entire body will betray you if you try to say anything. For now, you opt to only give a jerky shake of your head. 

“No?” A corner of Minghao’s lip twitches upward in the ghost of a smile. You cling to that familiar grin as he pushes your hand up just a little more, just enough to have the tip of your middle finger pressing into your entrance. At this point, he’s moved his own fingers to wrap around your wrist. 

“Not enough?” he coos, even though he doesn’t look like he’s faring any better himself in the department of restraint. “What about here, then?” 

Minghao tugs at your wrist until your middle finger is sliding right into your slick. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. You feel your hand twitch, but Minghao only tightens his hold around your wrist. 

“I need you to answer me,” he mumbles, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s keeping you from moving your finger any further, and something about his demeanor tells you that it would be a bad idea to use your free hand to regain some control. Not when he was looking at you like this. 

“More,” you croak out. 

Minghao’s tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip. “More,” he repeats, his own voice equally broken. He finally breaks his gaze to look down at the way your finger is buried inside you, at how your hand is completely his to move. “Alright, then.” 

Wordlessly, he guides you into pulling your finger out and then easing it back in. This time, his focus is entirely on the way you swallow up your finger with each shallow thrust; how his own movements are dictating your pace, your pleasure. 

You writhe in the chair, feeling absolutely mortified at how quickly you can feel heat building in your stomach. It’s been simmering for the past hour; this was only leading you to the tipping point. And Minghao isn’t even touching you yet at this point, just helping you get off. 

“Hao,” you exhale, your breath warm against his face. He finally looks back up at you and you can see all of his want on his expression, clear his day. “Hao, I need—” 

Him. You need him. That’s what you mean to say. 

But your best friend seems determined to drag this out for all its worth. 

“You need to stop moving,” he murmurs as he deftly pries your index finger free from its curl. “I don’t think I’ve said that enough.” 

This time, he helps you push two fingers into your heat.

Your head lolls back and your lips part in a silent gasp. Minghao seizes the opportunity of more skin being bared to him. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your jawline, then to your collarbone. All the while, he keeps driving your own fingers into you.

It feels like a special kind of purgatory.

“Please, Hao,” you plead. 

“Words,” he mumbles against our skin, rewarding— or punishing— you with a particularly sharp thrust of your two fingers. You fold in half at the sensation, only managing to still sit somewhat upright by virtue of Minghao’s other hand holding your back up against the chair. “Use your words, pretty.” 

You bury your face in the crook of his neck. There’s a wretched quality to your voice as you pant, “Need you, please. Need your fingers instead.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“‘Cause—” You clench around your fingers; he feels your body tense underneath him. Both of you let out small sounds of pleasure at the reactions. “Your fingers are better, they’re— they’ll get me there faster— please, oh—” 

Your incoherent babbling seems to amuse and appease Minghao, enough for him to give in. 

He pulls your two fingers out and, before you can whine about the loss, he replaces them with two of his. They’re as brutally precise as you’d imagined them to be. Your knees almost close in an attempt to tide the pleasure that’s about to crash down, but Minghao holds your thighs apart with his other hand. 

“Don’t.” His voice is strained with effort. “Wanna see you. Please?” 

It’s the tacked on please that bowls you over, that has you nodding helplessly. You’d do anything Minghao asked if he asked in that tone. 

The squelches of his two fingers thrusting into you are obscene, but not quite as filthy as the sounds that slide past your panting lips. You moan and whimper and whine, and each little noise only seems to have Minghao moving with renewed vigor. He’s pulled away from your neck to watch you, but his eyes keep darting from your microexpressions to the way his fingers are swallowed up by your velvet heat. It’s like he can’t decide where to look first. 

“You’re a work of art,” he chokes out, his teeth grinding together as he focuses on your face. “So goddamn beautiful— sitting here all nice and pretty for me.” 

One of your hands fly to his hip in a desperate bid to hold onto something, to anything of him.

“Gonna finish,” you sob as you force your eyes open to meet his. Inadvertently, you cant your hips upward to meet one of his sharper thrusts, and the friction has the two of you moaning a little more. “Hao, fuck, can I—?” 

“Please,” he pants. “I need it. I need it so, so bad—” 

You climax with a silent scream, a sound that’s muffled as you lurch forward and press your face back into his neck. His other hand holds the back of your head in a supportive gesture as you come undone, coating his two digits in your slick. 

Minghao lets out a low cuss as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re so beautiful,” he says dazedly, sliding his fingers out of you carefully. “How are you so beautiful?” 

All you can manage is a shaky laugh as you come down from your high. As you keep your head pressed against Minghao, you catch sight of the tent in his sweatpants. Tentatively, you reach up one hand to cup him over the fabric. 

He says your name like it had been punched out of him. “Hey—” he tries to say in warning, but his body betrays him by bucking into your hand. 

“How long has that been there?” Your voice trembles, thick with a heady mix of exhaustion and desire. 

Minghao’s gruff response comes as your fingers twitch around the outline of him. “Since you stepped out of the damn shower,” he admits lowly.  

You let out a contemplative hum. There’s still a low ringing in your ears, a slight buzz in your brain from the last vestiges of your orgasm, but it can’t just be you who’s having all the fun. 

You shift back a bit so you can meet his gaze. You’re torturously slow as you palm his aching hardness, and you revel in the way Minghao reacts above you. His eyes have all but rolled into the back of his head and breathless little gasps are rising from the back of his throat.

“You’ve posed my hands,” you say, trying— and failing— to keep your tone even. “Wanna show me where my mouth should be, Hao?” 

His fingers tighten at the strands of your hair. He lets out just one more cuss before he’s using his other hand— the one still coated with your release— to pull down his bottoms. 

“Watch and fuckin’ learn, pretty,” he breathes, and you have a good feeling that he’ll make good on the threat.       

(Minghao gets an ‘A’ on his next assignment.)

[dear-ao3]

welcome back once again. i feel like im just screaming into the void at this point guys. is anyone still out there? is anyone still reading? i don't know but we’re back. i know we were just back but were back again cause we’re in triple header hell! but we are in mexico, so at least we get the cool f1 song!  today is november 3, 2024 and here we goooooooooo

and im going to let you all in on a little secret here. i have pretty much no idea what happened this weekend. like i know things happened. i have notes written down. but this is going to be a surprise for the both of us. in my defense, i had an anatomy test and a work trip. so apologies if this one is a little rough around the edges.

charles leclerc became a fighter pilot. or at least he did on instagram, as a brand deal/partner thing. sorry that's not descriptive. let me try again. 

he got to go on a rafale fighter jet to take part in a french air force training mission and its going to be in the documentary called supersonique.

he also ate what seems to be mcdonalds after

franco colapinto was in a forbes magazine. he was talking about being a driver from south america just ahead of the central/south american leg of the f1 season:

"I know that the Argentines are enjoying having a driver back in Formula 1 as much as I am; seeing when I do well and being just as happy as I am when we get good results… that is something that we all enjoy. I feel that we are a team with all the Argentines, who pushed me a lot to get to where we are; and what we achieved is also part of them. I love that they are happy with everything that is happening this year. I am very happy to see them enjoying what I am doing. Obviously, continuing down this path, seeing that I have so much support from Argentina, is something unique"

oscar was also in a forbes magazine. they somehow managed to make him look like a giraffe.

and it was lewis hamilton’s dog’s roscoe’s birthday he is 12. lewis lightly demanded that everyone wish him a happy birthday and you cant possibly say no to sir lewis hamilton. 

valtteri bottas is also selling a piece of his mullet??? i swear im not making this up.

and im not sure if this was during this exact week but one of the williams mechanics? engineers? said that they only just recently got franco to stop taking the bus (like a real. commuter bus) from the hotel he stays at to the williams factory in england. franco thinks that its stupid to waste a car to drive him to the factory when he can sit on the bus and get a nice view. but you know, safety and all that. 

one person was not gracing us with his presence this media day was fernando alonso. he was not feeling well and did not go to media day. he did show up later in the weekend, which was good cause it was his 400th gp this weekend. no one else has ever gotten to this many before. he had a cool helmet and everything. 

and you know, everyone was well and truly impressed because holy shit. 400 races.

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 everyone had only good things to say about him in his 400th race (thats a link to another video that it wont let me insert)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

yuki and liam built a giant jenga tower (with the help of standing on a chair)

charles made a second, more unhinged, instagram post, showing off his helmet for the mexican gp. ill just let you watch it. 

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then he showed up in his suit, slaying, and trying to speak spanish. 

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oscar and lando did a fan stage with franco and alex. oscar told franco that he wants to learn spanish just to understand his interviews because apparently they are really funny. 

max reacted to the grid recreating the inchident video. actually hold on this may in fact be from last week. you know what i don't care. its a good video. its going in.

george was also asked about the penalties from the texas week, namely his that he got for his incident with valtteri. he was very GPDA president about it. he said: 

“when you watch an incident in slow motion, or you pause it at any given point - my penalty with valtteri, the rule states if you're not ahead of the apex and you push someone wide, you get a penalty. so by the letter of the law, my penalty was correct. but anybody who knows racing, and anybody watching it, knows it was not correct. i don't really know how we move forward. i think we’d probably all want to see the probably the same stewards all year long, so that the drivers and the stewards can all be on the same page, and that we can apply common sense when needed, rather than having to really follow the letter of the law.” 

he also said that he could not speak about the other penalties that were given out because he had not thoroughly reviewed them yet. but aparently the driver guidelines are going to get gone over in qatar.

and now, for everyone’s favorite part. the silly season update.

this week it came in the form of a quote from valtteri bottas, saying that should he wind up with no seat at the end of the season, he would consider going back to mercedes as a reserve driver for next year.  

why is this interesting??? WELL

mercedes currently has two reserve drivers as we know. one is frederik vesti. who i never really talk about, mostly because mercedes pretty much just kinda locks him in the simulator and that's about it. but hes charming in the sense that he reminds me of this kid who was in one of my algebra classes in high school who asked our teacher if he ate a gummy worm off the floor if he could get extra credit. the teacher said no. the kid still ate the gummy worm for fun. 

anyway.

the other reserve driver we have talked about quite a bit and it is mick schumacher. 

mick has been reserve driving for merc for two years now, following his untimely exit from haas at the end of 2022. and by untimely i mean he was apparently told during the last race weekend in a hotel lobby that he wasn't signed for the next year. anyway. mick is one of the reserve drivers, yes, but he is also racing for alpine in the WEC (world endurance championship) series this year. his WEC contract was for one year and as of now, when i am typing this, he has not re signed any contracts with WEC. despite the fact that everyone on the team has pretty much said that they would give both their right arm and their first child for him to re sign with them. but, mick is waiting for any news of a formula 1 seat before he signs another WEC contract. 

aside from that though. mick did say that if he cant get a seat back on the grid then he wants to stay with mercedes as a reserve driver. so then why. is bottas saying. that he wants to go to mercedes as a reserve driver. 

i have no idea. but this is formula 1. so it could either mean everything or it could mean nothing. 

and the silly season rumors also continued to swirl around one franco colapinto. who, if you will remember, has no contract for next year. james vowels had this to say about franco: “even if hes taking points away from us [next year] he should be racing in f1.” which is to say that williams would release franco from his contract with them (cause he was in their drivers academy) so that he could sign with another team. and currently only two teams have seats open: vcarb (though they might be locked down with liam lawson) and audi/stake (who everyone seems to be in contention for).

speaking of rumors. helmut marko was back running his mouth (if you're surprised about this, clearly you haven't been paying enough attention to this post) this time about oscar coming to red bull should max leave or retire (like he is presently threatening to do every now and then due to a potentially expanding race calendar and also tighter regulations). and oscar shut that right down in a very oscar way: 

“definitely not [going to red bull]. i’m very happy where i am. im under contract for the next two years after this and im certainly not looking to go elsewhere. it wouldnt be a week in f1 without some comments from helmut.”

he was then asked if he was surprised that helmut would say that oscar is going to sign with red bull and oscar said 

“not massively. its a nice compliment i would say. but again i am very happy with where i am. they [red bull] have quote a bit pool of drivers they can choose from if they want.”

and zak brown conferred this:

"We're obviously very happy with our two guys and got them signed up for quite some time." though. as we know. contracts don't really mean too much in f1. so whos to say.

but helmut marko wasn’t done talking about the mclaren drivers. he still had shit to talk about lando: 

“we know norris has some mental weaknesses. ive read some of the rituals he needs to do to perform well on race day.” 

this was in relation to lando fighting for the championship with max, and why helmut thought that max was superior, despite having the inferior car. 

andrea stella, the mclaren team principal, responded to this, saying that

“max was addressed for swearing. for me, this is much more severe.”

and zak brown said

“i read marko’s comments. poking at that situation i think is pretty inappropriate and kind of sets us back 10-20 years.”  

and of course, helmut responded to them.

“i never talked about mental health. i just said that max is mentally stronger. they are deliberately causing unrest.”

and that may be so. it may not be so. it all depends on how you spin it. 

you know what doesnt depend on how you spin it? 

alex albon bonking oscar on the head with a boom mic

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and also whatever the hell george is doing here 

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now. this is potentially i think the third time that george has had to defend himself saying that he is Not dating another driver (im not sure, my resident George expert is asleep). hes done it before with alex albon (entirely unprompted i might add. in a twitch stream. when people were asking if alex was going to go live. and george said “we might be best mates but he is Not my boyfriend.” which was something no one was accusing him of) and i don't remember what the other time was. but i know that this has happened before. and george. if you’re defending yourself against allegations that no one is making well. that kinda says something. 

but lets get on to practice, i say, as it is now 12:30am on brazil race day. really. how do i get myself into these situations. 

idk

but alas we had practice. i don't really know what happened, i didn't watch any of it. but! pato o’ward with mclaren was in fp1, along with ollie bearman at ferrari, felipe drugovich at aston, kimi antonelli at mercedes and robert shwartzman at stake. 

it was a proper big deal for pato to be in for fp1 because hes mexican and everyone there was really really excited for him to be in. he currently races in indycar and hes a pretty big deal. hes also the mclaren reserve driver. and he put on face paint. really, he is quite funny and i would recommend at least glancing at his social media, its off the walls.

alex crashed into ollie and went spin.

robert saw it happen and his radio was just a tad unhinged:

robert then also got a five place grid penalty for overtaking under a double yellow flag. which is really interesting because that penalty can only be served in a formula 1 race and guess what, robert is not a formula 1 driver. but at least he can now join the club with jenson button for Drivers Who Have Grid Penalties That They Cannot Serve.

then in practice 2 we had a rather large crash from george. by rather large i mean 35g. straight into the barriers. and the way that he hit the barriers, he almost went directly into the concrete.

which is why when he got out of the car and whisked off to the medical center, he was clearly limping and also couldn't breathe. 

(if you're new to the world of formula 1, yes this is less than ideal, but he did come on radio saying that he was fine, which is always good and did get out of the car himself, which is also always good. sometimes they just get the wind knocked out of them during the big high impact crashes. lando had a worse one in vegas last year)

still. there was a red flag as they extracted george’s car from the barriers. and we didn't hear anything from mercedes about whether or not george was okay (usually this is something that comes through pretty quickly when a driver has to go to the medical center post crash because sometimes they get sent to the hospital for precautionary checks)

but we did hear from the admin on the LN4 twitter account (?) (one of lando’s official accounts) and they posted something to the extent of “is it in bad taste to say we’re so back” right after george’s crash. it was quickly deleted. 

eventually, we found out that george was in fact okay, back in the hospitality, and probably complaining about how his car didn't really work too well. 

forward into qualifying we go. 

one of the ferrari mechanics decided to do some acrobatics

and lando took one of his famed mid quali naps. 

and it had been 4,480 days since fernando alonso’s last pole position in germany 2012.

oh you wanted to actually know about what they did? in the cars? my most sincere apologies. without any further ados: 

well there was not a lot of grip. because this is a high altitude track. the highest altitude of the whole season. 

it was also checo’s home race. somehow i forgot to mention that. but he is in fact mexican and he is also a HUGE deal in mexico. last year he did not have a good race weekend here, he got shoved off the track at the start by charles leclerc (i think it was a no fault thing but i do not remember, neither of them had anywhere to go) and ended up dnfing on turn 1 lap 1. which was not great. and he definitely did not want a repeat of that this year. 

unfortunately he was off to a bad start. in his first qualifying lap he managed only a 1:18.5 and martin brundle said “what did he do there? oh dear. not particularly fast”

he said that he had braking problems and was stuck down in p19.

meanwhile george russell. 

they had had to rebuild the car for him after his crash in practice the day before and he had all kinds of old spec parts going on his car. no one was really sure when it was exactly from. some said miami. some said silverstone. in any case, it was not up to date. 

oscar piastri was also having a time of it. he only managed to go 13th fastest and then it got deleted for track limits so he got shoved back down to 19th. he had time to go out again though and he did. he needed at least a 1:17.2. he did a 1:17.5. “this is not a cracking lap” said martin brundle. 

checo meanwhile got knocked down into the bottom five by charles leclerc. which was slightly cruel after last year.  “ah shit,” he said over the radio. “Indeed,” martin agreed. and oscar got knocked down to the bottom five by franco. 

“similar position from lando last year, so ill make sure to do my homework to see how he moved through the field” oscar said later. i think last year lando started p17 and finished p5. it was slightly insane.

haas meanwhile, the 300 person team, had both cars through. this year they were really, really making the upgrades work for them. and also bottas was through. hes never not made it to q3 in mexico. 

q2 was mostly uninteresting except for when yuki tsunoda went crash. he was okay, but it ended the session slightly early. so himself, liam lawson, fernando alonso, lance stroll and valtteri bottas were all out. 

meanwhile. alex albon had almost all but matched the pace of the mercedes. which was really interesting because need i remind you that alex albon drives a williams. and williams is definitely mid field, despite being mercedes powered.

in q3 max made it to provisional pole. but then carlos took it from him. and carlos kept it. he was on pole! 

“what a lap,” carlos said

“two laps,” his engineer said. 

he also had a great secret third lap where he smacked lando in the nuts

and so lining up for thee start of the race we had 

carlos, max, lando, george, lewis, kevin, pierre. alex, nico, yuki, liam, fernando, lance, valtteri, franco, oscar, checo, esteban, guanyu

and once the race started, yuki was very nearly immediately in the wall. he retired. as well as alex albon who was also involved in the incident.

max had picked up the lead from carlos somewhere and carlos ended up going off track and passing max, but when he rejoined he gave the position back. 

so heading into lap 2, max was leading, then checo, lando, charles, lewis, george, jevin, nico, gasly, liam, lance, fernando, perez, colapinto, valtteri, zhou, ocon and albon

which meant that checo had somehow gained five places.

the fia thought that this was slightly too good to be true. turns out that he was being investigated for a false start.

checo did not agree with this. “no, no it was a great start,” he said over radio. “have a look because i don't think we were.” apparently he was though, and he got a five second penalty for it. 

meanwhile, carlos passed max in a move that surprised everyone, even carlos himself. 

“mate,” max said over radio. “what a can i do with a fuck empty battery? what is this stupid mode.” the team did not really look into it, but it became clear that carlos saw the car recharging its battery and still sent it and somehow it all worked out for him. max had had no battery from previously fending off carlos.

next up it was lando’s turn to get through. he passed, then max kind of ran him off the track. lando did not give the spot back.  a few corners later max ran both him and lando off the track and charles took that as an opportunity to zoom right past them. i cant insert the video because f1 is blocked on tumblr, but you can watch the moment if you click here

“i was ahead at the corner! same as the last time, he keeps forcing me off i was just trying to avoid a collision! hes dangerous.” lando said over the radio. 

this time it did seem to be actually dangerous. 

“he overtook off track and pushed me,” lando repeated again. 

both incidents were reported up to race control. but lando still got two track limits strikes, which would count against him if he went off again. 

almost immediately, max got a 10 second penalty for forcing another driver off the track. “im sorry mate but that was outrageous,” martin brundle said. 

max was told about the penalty. he was unbothered. “yeah, quite impressive.”

meanwhile charles got the fastest lap. and george, on his old spec car, potentially from miami, managed to pass lewis hamilton for fifth. 

and then fernano alonso had to retire, on his 400th race for i think it was an exhaust issue. or a brake issue. a something issue. which was unfortunate. 

also unfortunate was max getting Another 10 second penalty. for the second time that he managed to force lando off. 

george’s engineer told him that max managed to get 20 seconds worth of penalties. “wow” george said, speaking everyone’s thoughts.

meanwhile, liam lawson and checo had an incident.

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and then he and lance stroll nearly smacked into eachother as well. checo ended up going into the pits after it (and i think served his 5s penalty) but then came out fine. despite a slight hole in his side pod. the incident did end up going to the stewards, but no penalties were given.

what was hilarious about this though is that it was the second week in a row where liam lawson was picking beef with one of the “old men” drivers on the track. first fernando alonso and then checo perez. and liam did flip perez off (at least i think it was) here.

liam did later apologize for this, saying that "he [checo] spent half the lap blocking me and trying to ruin my race, so i was upset."

after the race, checo said that it was a "i dont think it was a very clever move" and liam said "im not just going to get out of his way"

liam also said, much later on, potentially actually in brazil "im not here to make friends, im here to win"

cause remember that liam is trying to get checo's seat.

still, this was incredibly bad luck for checo at his home race, especially after wanting to get redemption for last year.

max also ended up pitting on lap 27 and served his 20 second penalty. 

by lap 30 this was what we were working with:

p1 carlos p2 charles p3 lando p4 george p5 kevin  p6 nico p7 liam p8 oscar p9 franco p10 lewis p11 valtteri p12 esteban  p13 max p14 guanyu p15 pierre p16 checo p17 lance

this was excited because we almost had a HAM, BOT, VER in the timings, which was very typical of a few years ago when bottas was still at mercedes and max was constantly chasing them down. a few laps later, we did indeed get HAM, BOT, VER

carlos, who was still leading, was told to box a few minutes later “one more lap, one more lap,” he pleaded with his engineers, trying to become his own engineer again as he sometimes does when he is leading a race (a la singapore)

george had also pitted, but he was displeased with it. “why have we done this? surely we could have done 1 or 2 laps more,” he said, wishing that he had put his foot down a la carlos. 

conversely, oscar piastri was practically begging to pit. “mate think about pulling me out of this shit,” oscar said, stuck in a drs train as he had been for the last many several laps, unable to overtake and just kind of stuck between haas, rb and williams. 

oscar was at this point, sitting in 6th, in front of liam lawson. max was in 8th at this point, but quite a bit behind oscar. and the thought was that they, mclaren, were going to leave oscar as a sacrifice to fight with max to protect lando, who was trying to take as many points off of max as possible. 

carlos was still chilling in first, 7.7 seconds ahead of charles.

and george had an asymmetrical front wing. not quite broken but also kind of broken. but still usable. so he kept using it. 

max verstappen passed liam. he was now right behind oscar. and oscar had yet to pit. 

franco had something wrong with his steering. “something is wrong with the steering mate. something strange. it goes soft stiff soft.” and yet, no one made a that's what she said joke about that. 

oscar was finally pulled out of hell and into the pit lane. he came out 13th and very very behind max.

“is it me,” crofty said. “or is it suddenly getting cloudy.” 

because that was just what this race needed. rain. 

“its getting really dark!” max said.

rain was not expected to hit the track, but it was getting close. 

“ive got very small rain drops on the visor,” george said.

“check for sweat george, check for sweat,” crofty said, calling back to that race i don't remember which one where george reported rain but it was really just sweat falling into his eyes. 

oscar was meanwhile fighting back through the grid, he was up to 10th. 

lando was now putting in the fastest laps, trying to catch charles. he was 20 seconds ahead of george at this point so he was in no danger from behind, but he definitely wanted to try to catch charles. 

carlos and charles, because of this, had been told to speed up. 

carlos did not agree with this “my opinion is that we are pushing too hard, absolutely no need for the team.” he was saying this because he was about to start lapping cars and thus be in traffic, but lando was too close for ferrari (4 seconds behind charles) to back off. and so they went. 

franco took the fastest lap now. 

and lewis was still trying to pass george (who, i remind you, is driving a car potentially from miami in terms of upgrades and has a broken front wing) by still i mean that this had been going on for a solid 5 laps at this point. 

lando was only 1.5 seconds behind charles at this point. 

“i need your best driving now, lets go” charles’s engineer said. ferrari were also having brake cooling problems at this point. and lando put in the fastest lap.

on lap 63 he was half a second behind charles

and then charles went off the track! nearly slammed head first into the barriers but managed to just barely catch it! but it was enough to send lando through to p2! 

charles meanwhile was telling his team to “think about the fastest lap” 

and george was still ahead of lewis. lewis had been half a second behind him for a long while. and the two mercs were in no mans land in a race with eachother. and lewis finally passed on lap 66. it took him 12 laps. and lewis has the most upgraded version of the car lets remember. 

later on george claimed that there was nothing “better” about his car and its version than lewis’s so either, lewis’s car is fucked (as he has been saying this whole year) or! the miami upgrades and a broken front wing were actually better. ill let you decide on that one. 

franco and liam meanwhile had an incident. franco’s front wing got smashed and liam claimed that he had nowhere to go. 

checo was told “might be debris in turn 12” from the liam and franco incident. “i guess its the same idiot that crashed again?” checo asked. 

“you can watch the highlights later,” his engineer said. 

checo giggled and said “im watching them now.” so at least he got a little satisfaction from that.

but liam lawson pitted after his scuffle and went fastest. 

then charles pitted and went fastest. 

and then checo pitted and tried to go for a fastest lap attempt and then failed. probably because he still had a slight hole in his side pod. 

so charles ended with the fastest lap. and who won? 

CARLOS SAINZ

he was followed by lando, charles, lewis, george, max, kevin, oscar, nico, pierre, lance, franco, esteban, valtteri, guanyu, liam and checo.

he got his “one last win” in ferrari (but didn't sing smooth operator over the radio. sad.) and also! ferrari are now ahead of red bull in the constructors championship! 

the standings are 

mclaren: 566

ferrari: 537

red bull: 512

and according to one laura winter “ferrari are on a charge”

but lets hear from the drivers first

charles said that “it was a difficult one….race was the best we could achieve on my side today.” 

lando said that he “tired to avoid any crashes, carlos did well!....i didn't want to expect such a thing [max’s driving] because i respect max as a driver but i was expecting it and i avoided it” he later elaborated on this, saying that

“i don't want to complain about it, you know. cause you know, this is what i love.  i love going into races and knowing like ‘we’re gonna have a good battle today and hes [max] going to put up a good fight’ and all of those things. and i look forward to it. but things like today are just a bit too far in my opinion and obviously in the stewards opinions too and i would say pretty in the majority of people’s opinions. and that's just not how i think many people like to go racing. but i respect max a lot. i want to race hard against him but if i didn't do what i did today and avoid him, id probably be out of the race you know, so…its tough but i played my cards well i knew what to expect in many ways and yeah. points are good for me at the minute. and we just keep our heads down.” 

max had a totally different view

“well i mean at the end of the day, if you agree with it or not, it doesnt matter because the penalties are given. so honestly that's also not my biggest problem of the race. my biggest problem was just that we had no pace. yeah, just struggling a lot on the tires. yeah, couldn't really attack and i couldn't follow ferrari and mclaren.”

he was then asked if he would do something different next time. and he had an interesting answer again:

“uh. maybe get a drink in the pit stop.”

so as usual max remains unbothered. you cannot pay him to be bothered because its not in his nature. he just wants to go racing. 

one person though was happy with his result and that was carlos sainz. 

“i just really wanted this one, i wanted it for myself….with four races left i just want to have fun.” 

he was also asked about his overtake on max and he said that

“i needed to surprise him one way or another, i was a bit far back but i had nothing to lose so i sent one down the inside.” 

(as a side note they kept calling carlos the “king of mexico” which just. feels wrong? given you know? colonialism and columbus and the conquistadors and all that that pillaged the crap out of mexico and south america? but maybe that's just the history major in me talking)

but it was also good news for ferrari itself because of how much they have gained over recent races and carlos had this to say about that

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by absolute contrast. charles called max “my max” in the press conference

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and then accidentally swore 

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and immediately got approached by an fia official after

jury is still out on his punishment, he may need to do community service with max. 

aside from. all of that. haas! had a great run of points, p7 and p9, and are now in front of alpine in the constructors championship. kevin said that the upgrades that they have brought recently “have just worked….sometimes we surprise ourselves.” which i think really well and truly sums up the entirely of haas. 

he also said that he is at peace with this potentially being the end of his career, though he has been in this position now twice before and has come back. so. jurys still out on kevin magnussen. 

and we also heard from franco colapinto. who said that the fans here really motivated him. “in football we are fighting with eachother and that doesnt happen here” he said. but he also said that he didn't have anything else left in the car today. 

he was asked about his plans for next year and he said himself that he does Not have a seat for 2025 and there have not been talks. he wants to come back in 26 or 27. but, remember, this is the kid who likes to fuck with everyone. so whos to say. also his team apparently have been talking to people and there is a Chance that he could be in for the RB seat for next year. we will see what happens. 

“everybody is tired,” james hinchcliffe said “but everybody is having fun.” 

and especially having fun were mclaren and ferrari, specifically zak brown and carlos sainz, who photo bombed eachother.

oscar called lando landito during one of the post mclaren videos

and then lando and carlos celebrated their podium together

they actually went out together with a bunch of people at what seems to be a big fancy dinner thing. and carlos was sitting. next to lando. but across from his own girlfriend. which is kind of hilarious.

and then they went out and carlos sang smooth operator. because what else did you expect him to sing. he’s carlos sainz. 

we have one more race in this triple header, and that is brazil. and since i am coming to you from the future, i can tell you all that you’re going to want to tune in for this one. its off the walls in more ways than one. and i promise it will be a much better update than this one. see you all soon :)

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[maskedbyghost]

i had a dream about a Simon/ghost x fem!reader story based around the song Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush last night and I needed to type this out before I forgot lol

so its basically ghost having a nightmare that scared him deeply, causing him to wake up in a panic. the reader was already awake because ghost was breathing heavily before he woke up and the reader was worried for him. Once he wakes up, the reader could hold him closely (like cuddles) so that he knows he's safe with her. while the reader is comforting him, she could tell him that if she could swap places with him, she would (like in the song). And after he calms down, ghost could tell her (the reader) how much he loves her and appreciates her for making sure he's ok and he's all fluffy and genuine about it.

thank you for this idea, i hope you like it :)

it’s the quiet sounds that stir you first—the shallow, uneven breaths beside you, the way the bed shifts as simon thrashes just slightly. it’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but every time, it feels like a piece of your heart twists and breaks for him.

"simon," you whisper, reaching over, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. his skin is warm under your touch, but he’s tense, locked in whatever nightmare holds him.

when he wakes, it’s sudden, his eyes snap open, wild and disoriented, like he’s not sure where he is. his breath comes fast, shoulders heaving, and for a second, he looks right through you.

"baby," you say again, voice soft, pulling him back to the present. your fingers trail up to his cheek, grounding him, until his eyes find yours and something shifts. he’s here, with you, no longer lost in the dark.

"’m sorry," he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his face, as if he can scrub the fear away. he looks almost embarrassed, like he’s ashamed to let you see him this way. but you don’t let him pull back—you scoot closer, curling your arms around him, holding him tight.

"don’t apologize," you say gently, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady, frantic beat of his heart begin to slow. "i’m here. you don’t have to be strong right now. just…let me be here for you."

he shudders against you, his breaths still shaky, but he doesn’t pull away. his head tilts down, forehead pressing into the curve of your shoulder, like he’s holding onto you for dear life. his arms wrap around you, strongly, like he’s anchoring himself to you.

you stroke his back slowly, fingers tracing calming patterns. "if i could take this pain from you, i would," you whisper, voice breaking just a little. "if i could trade places, i’d do it in a heartbeat. i'd go through every nightmare if it meant you didn’t have to."

he stills, his grip tightening, and for a moment, you feel him tremble, the words sinking deep, breaking through some guarded part of him that no one else has ever touched. "you’d do that?" he murmurs, almost like he can’t believe it.

"every single time," you say, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "i’d do anything to keep you safe."

there’s a long silence, and when he finally speaks, his voice is raw, barely more than a whisper. "i don’t…i don’t know what i did to deserve you," he says, the words rough with honesty. "you’re always here, always looking after me, even when i’m a mess."

you reach up, cupping his face, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. "you don’t have to deserve it, simon. i’m here because i care about you—because i love you."

something softens in his gaze, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to memorize this moment. his thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"i love you, too," he breathes, the words carrying all the weight he’s never said out loud. "i don’t say it enough. i don’t know if i can…but just…thank you. for being here, for being you."

he pulls you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. you hold him in silence, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. for tonight, you’re his shield, his safe place, and that’s more than enough.

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

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[420b1a2eit]

The Fall - Part 1

Jieun x Jongsuk x ???

11605 words

tags: porn, handjob, blowjob, unsatisactory sex, power bottom, threesome, double penetration

Jieun dragged herself through the front door, dropping her bags on the floor. The tour had been grueling—shows in different cities every night, endless crowds cheering her on, but it felt empty. Despite the flashing lights and adoring fans, she missed something grounded, something familiar, like home. Like Jongsuk.

They had been texting all through the tour, long strings of “I miss you” and “I can’t wait to see you again,” but now that she was standing in the hallway of their shared apartment, a strange emptiness curled in her chest. It wasn’t like her to feel this way, not when she’d been away so long, not when she should have been desperate to wrap her arms around him.

Jongsuk appeared in the doorway, his grin wide, welcoming, too eager. He embraced her, the scent of him familiar and warm, but as their lips met, Jieun felt... nothing. Just lips pressing together, like rehearsed movements without the emotion behind them.

They didn’t waste time that evening. After dinner, after talking about her tour and the things she’d seen, they were already heading to bed. Jongsuk undressed her slowly, hands running down her back, tugging at the thin fabric of her shirt. He whispered how much he had missed her, how he had thought of her every night.

She should have been swept up in the moment, but as he touched her, kissed her skin, she felt detached, like she was watching from a distance, observing a scene from someone else’s life. His hands roamed over her body, and her breath quickened, but not in anticipation. More in uncertainty.

When he finally pushed into her, there was no spark. No sudden rush of pleasure or excitement. It felt like he was moving inside her, going through the motions, but her body wasn't responding. His breath hitched, deepening as he thrust into her with more intensity. Jieun clenched her eyes shut, trying to focus, to feel something. This is what you wanted, right?

But there was nothing. No rush of euphoria, no connection. His grunts grew louder, and he was lost in his own rhythm, oblivious to the storm of dissatisfaction swirling inside her. She tried to find pleasure in his movements, grinding her hips in sync with his, but it felt mechanical, rehearsed, lacking fire. A dull ache built in her chest. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, biting her lip, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

When he finished, collapsing beside her, breathless and spent, Jieun lay still, her body tense. She felt empty in more ways than one. Her mind raced, trying to process the numbness. Jongsuk kissed her cheek, whispered that he loved her, and she forced a smile, though her heart wasn’t in it.

The next few nights followed the same rhythm—he’d reach for her, and she’d respond, trying to coax some kind of desire, some spark of arousal. But each time, it was the same. His hands felt heavy, his movements predictable. Sex had turned into a routine, like brushing her teeth or making the bed, just another thing to check off the list.

Days passed, and her frustration mounted. Was it him? Was he not enough anymore? Or was it her? Had she become too jaded, too caught up in her own head to enjoy something so simple? She found herself scrolling mindlessly through the internet one night, looking for answers, trying to distract herself from the growing pit in her stomach.

That’s when she stumbled upon a video. It wasn’t something she’d normally click on, but something about the thumbnail caught her eye—a woman, wild-eyed, moaning between two men. Curiosity pulled her in, and before she realized what was happening, she was watching the screen intently. The woman was lost in the heat of the moment, sandwiched between two black men who looked like they were in complete control, their hands rough, their bodies overwhelming. They dominated her, both taking her at the same time, filling her from every angle.

Jieun’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she watched the scene unfold. The woman looked so... free. So completely consumed by pleasure. The intensity of it sent a thrill down Jieun’s spine. For the first time in weeks, she felt something stir inside her, a hunger she hadn’t known was there. It wasn’t just the act itself, it was the power dynamics, the thrill of submission, the raw intensity of being utterly devoured by not one, but two men.

Was this what she was missing?

She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the way the woman writhed and moaned, completely at their mercy, and the way she begged for more, so desperate to be filled by them both. It was intoxicating. Jieun tried to push the thought away, but it clung to her mind, growing louder, more persistent.

She didn’t want to cheat. That wasn’t the answer. But what if...?

A week passed since Jieun had returned home, a dull haze lingering between her and Jongsuk. The nights they spent together had been filled with routine passion—his hands roamed her body, his lips found all the familiar places, but something was off. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how deep his thrusts or how desperate his words of desire, Jieun couldn't find the satisfaction she craved.

It wasn’t him—she told herself that over and over. Jongsuk loved her, he was attentive, always trying to make her feel good. But each time they finished, as he lay beside her, sweaty and sated, she felt nothing but an aching emptiness in her chest. Her thoughts would wander, her mind flicking through vague fantasies, and recently, one had been burning brighter than the others. That porn video.

She had tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the idea of something new, something different. But it wasn’t just the novelty. There was something about the power, the submission, the way the woman was overwhelmed by two men at once.

And now, the thought clung to her like a drug, seeping into her dreams, making her wet in the middle of the night when Jongsuk was fast asleep beside her.

Jieun hesitated for days, unsure how to bring it up to Jongsuk. She wondered if he would think she was crazy, or worse, be disgusted. But the idea had already taken root, blossoming into a full-blown fantasy that she couldn’t ignore. One night, as they were lying in bed after yet another unsatisfying round of sex, she finally gathered the courage. She rolled over, her hand sliding down Jongsuk’s chest, fingers tracing the faint line of hair leading lower.

"Baby..." Her voice was a whisper, sultry, laced with intent. Her fingers wrapped around his softening cock, stroking it lazily. "What if... we tried something different?"

His eyes flickered open, looking at her with curiosity but also a hint of confusion. "Different?" he murmured, his voice thick with post-coital drowsiness. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips, her fingers tightening slightly around his length, coaxing it back to life. "You know... I’ve been thinking. About how we could... spice things up."

Jongsuk let out a low groan as her hand began to move more purposefully, stroking him harder, faster, feeling him twitch under her touch. "Like what?" he asked, his voice now more awake, intrigued.

Jieun leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. "What if... there was another man with us?" Her words were deliberate, soft but heavy with meaning. She could feel him stiffen—not just his cock, but his entire body, tensing under her suggestion.

"Another... man?" he echoed, clearly surprised.

"Mm-hmm." Her fingers moved with more urgency now, her hand pumping his cock steadily, feeling him harden fully in her grip. "Just imagine it, baby. Me... between the two of you. Another man taking me, while you watch. Or maybe you both fuck me at the same time..."

She felt him inhale sharply, the tension in his body increasing as her words sank in. His cock throbbed in her hand, and she knew she was getting to him.

"Love... I…" His voice was hesitant, a mixture of disbelief and arousal, his thoughts clearly torn between the idea and the unfamiliar territory she was leading him into.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The idea had consumed her for days, and now she was planting it deep in his mind, making him see it, making him feel it. She shifted lower, her lips grazing his collarbone, then trailing down his chest, her breath hot against his skin.

"Can you picture it, baby?" she purred, her mouth now hovering over his cock. "Me... on my knees... two cocks in my mouth... or maybe one fucking me from behind, the other filling my mouth." She looked up at him, locking eyes as she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth slowly, deliberately.

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, his hips bucking up slightly as she enveloped him, her mouth wet, hot, and eager. His hand instinctively reached for her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she sucked him deeper, letting him feel the weight of her desire.

She pulled back just enough to speak, her voice muffled by his cock still grazing her lips. "You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Watching me take it from both of you... seeing me so full, so used."

Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing, as her hand continued stroking the base. "You’d fuck me harder than ever, just to show him that I’m yours. You’d get so turned on, knowing another man is inside me... knowing that I’m being shared."

Jongsuk groaned, his grip tightening in her hair, his body responding to every filthy word spilling from her lips. She bobbed her head, sucking him with more intensity now, her hand working in time with her mouth.

"Tell me, baby," she whispered as she pulled away for a breath, her hand still pumping him steadily. "Tell me you want to see it. Tell me you want to watch me... being fucked by another man while you fuck me too."

His eyes were dark now, filled with lust, confusion, and the undeniable arousal that her words had ignited. He moaned, head thrown back against the pillow, his body surrendering to the fantasy she was weaving, unable to resist the dirty images flooding his mind.

Jieun grinned, knowing she had him on the edge. She lowered her mouth to his cock again, this time taking him deeper, faster, her throat tightening around him as she pushed him closer to the edge.

"Think about it," she murmured between strokes, her hand slick with saliva and pre-cum. "Me... with both of you... your cock in my mouth, another inside me... filling me, stretching me. You’d love it, wouldn’t you?"

Jongsuk gasped, his hips jerking up, his cock twitching in her mouth. She could feel how close he was, how much he wanted to explode at the thought.

Jongsuk's body trembled as he spilled into Jieun's mouth, his cock pulsing with the intensity of his release. She didn't slow down, not even when he filled her throat, swallowing every last drop like the filthy dream she had painted for him. His grip loosened on her hair, the afterglow hitting him in waves, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Her words still echoed in his mind—his girlfriend, his sweet Jieun, begging for another man to join them. It was outrageous, insane even. But the way she had worked him, the way she had crafted that fantasy, he couldn't deny the pull.

She lifted her head, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "So... what do you think?" she asked, voice low and teasing, as though she hadn't just reduced him to a quivering mess with her mouth alone.

Jongsuk blinked, still caught between disbelief and the primal urge she had stirred within him. His cock twitched in her hand, though he was spent, and the truth slipped out before he had a chance to overthink it. "Okay," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "We can try it."

Jieun's smile widened, her hand giving him one last lazy stroke as she crawled up beside him. "You won’t regret it," she whispered into his ear, lips brushing his jaw. But she could see the hesitation lingering in his eyes, the subtle fear that maybe this would change everything, that maybe he wasn’t enough for her anymore.

To reassure him, Jieun slid a hand up his chest, her touch gentle now, comforting. "You get to decide," she whispered, her voice softer, less demanding now. "Whoever it is, you choose. I’m yours, Jongsuk. I don’t want anyone but who you trust. This isn’t about someone else. This is about us. I just... want something new with you."

That was all it took. His unease faded slightly at her words, realizing she hadn’t been planning on running off with some random guy, that this was something they could do together. That she wanted him in it completely. It made the idea less threatening and more... intriguing. The control rested in his hands now.

Days passed as Jongsuk mulled over her offer, each time feeling a strange mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The fantasy Jieun had painted played over and over in his mind. He finally decided on someone—Minho, a longtime friend, someone he trusted. They hadn’t been best friends, but Minho had always been respectful, someone Jongsuk could rely on, and most importantly, someone who could keep a secret.

When Jongsuk brought up the idea, Minho had hesitated at first, unsure if Jongsuk was joking, but when the seriousness became clear, his interest piqued. They talked about it, laying everything out in the open—boundaries, expectations.

To ease the awkwardness, they invited Minho out for dinner with Jieun. What started as a casual dinner soon turned into something that felt... surprisingly natural. Minho had always been good at making people feel comfortable, and before long, the evening felt more like a strange but thrilling trio date. Jieun laughed at his jokes, Jongsuk found himself loosening up, and by the end of the night, they were all smiling, slightly buzzed from the drinks and the weight of what they had agreed to do hanging in the air between them.

The night finally arrived.

Jieun had rented a suite at a luxurious hotel, wanting to create the perfect setting for what would be their first time together in such a way. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting the white lingerie she had picked out, something delicate and daring, something that made her look innocent and filthy at the same time.

The lacey pattern around the cups was semi-transparent, giving just enough of a peek at her breasts beneath, nipples hard from anticipation and the slight chill in the room. The thong barely covered anything at all, only a sliver of fabric shielding her pussy, with a tiny white ribbon at the top of her mound, making her look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Her long, wavy dark brown hair cascaded down her back, reaching the bottom of her spine, adding to the soft allure of her appearance.

When Jongsuk and Minho entered the room, she turned to face them, biting her lower lip, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Jongsuk’s eyes widened immediately, his breath catching in his throat as he took her in. The white lace clung to her body in all the right places, accentuating her slender frame, her perky breasts pressing against the thin fabric. His mouth went dry as he stared, his mind struggling to process how fucking perfect she looked, innocent and sinful all at once.

Minho’s reaction was just as visceral. His eyes raked over her body, lingering on the way the lace barely concealed her breasts, how her nipples pressed against the fabric, visible but teasing. His gaze dropped lower, tracing the delicate curve of her hips and the thong that disappeared between her thighs. He let out a soft, appreciative breath, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Wow,” Minho said, voice low, full of awe and hunger. “You look… incredible.”

Jieun smiled coyly, shifting her weight slightly, her body language deliberately sensual, her every movement calculated to draw their eyes to different parts of her. “You like it?” she asked, voice sweet but laced with seduction.

Jongsuk stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her body, his hand reaching out to brush against the delicate lace covering her breasts. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly. “You’re… perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Minho, still watching from a few steps away, nodded slowly, his eyes dark with lust. "Definitely more than I imagined," he added, voice rough with want. His gaze flicked between Jieun and Jongsuk, as if confirming this was real, that they were all really here, about to cross that line.

Jieun’s heart raced as she watched their reactions, feeling the heat rising between the three of them, the tension so thick it was nearly palpable. She could feel the slick wetness pooling between her thighs, the thought of what was about to happen sending jolts of excitement through her.

Slowly, she turned, giving them both a view of her back, her ass framed perfectly by the thong, the lace hugging the soft curve of her hips. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Jongsuk, then Minho, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice teasing. “Are you two just going to stand there... or are we going to start?”

The air in the suite was thick with tension, a palpable heat that seemed to settle in Jieun's chest, swirling through her veins and flooding her senses. She stood between Jongsuk and Minho, feeling their hungry eyes on her body, the white lingerie clinging to her in a way that made her feel both exposed and powerful. They were eager, she could feel it—their desire practically radiated off them in waves, and for a brief moment, Jieun relished the way she commanded their attention, how she was the center of this shared fantasy.

Jongsuk’s eyes were dark, locked onto hers, and Minho was no different, his lips slightly parted, gaze lingering on her breasts barely covered by the delicate lace. The two men had been so focused on her that it hadn’t even occurred to them that they were still fully dressed.

Jieun chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing as she tilted her head, looking between them. “Mm, you boys are still wearing too much,” she said, her voice dripping with seduction. She gave them both a playful smile, her fingers brushing over her own body for emphasis. “I don’t want either of you wearing anything tonight.” The idea of them stripping down, baring themselves for her, made her pulse quicken.

Jongsuk smirked, glancing at Minho before they both started to undress, peeling off their clothes piece by piece. Jieun watched with anticipation, biting her lower lip as they revealed themselves to her. It was strange, watching Minho undress, someone who wasn’t her boyfriend, but the excitement bubbling inside her was undeniable.

Once they were fully naked, Jieun’s eyes flicked between them, drinking in the sight of their bodies, her breath hitching slightly at how hard both of them already were. Two cocks, stiff and eager, ready for her. The sight sent a thrill down her spine, a mix of curiosity and satisfaction blooming in her chest. Was this what she needed? Was this the key to quenching that gnawing hunger inside her?

She didn’t have much time to linger on the thought as she reached out, taking both men by the forearms, guiding them closer to her. “Come here,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of command, pulling them in. When they were close enough, she took each of their hands and guided them to her body, encouraging them to touch her, feel her.

Their hands roamed over her curves, tentative at first but quickly becoming bolder as they explored the softness of her skin, the shape of her waist, the swell of her breasts beneath the lace. Jieun closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself get lost in their touch, feeling how their fingers gripped her, the mix of Jongsuk’s familiar touch and Minho’s new, electrifying presence setting her nerves on fire.

She opened her eyes, turning her gaze up to Jongsuk first, her lips curving into a smile before she leaned in and kissed him, their mouths meeting in a deep, needy kiss. His tongue slid against hers, a familiar heat, but the sensation of another man’s hands on her body while she kissed her boyfriend sent a fresh wave of excitement through her. Jongsuk’s hands squeezed her waist possessively, pulling her closer as they made out, but Jieun pulled away just enough to turn her head, catching Minho’s lips next.

Making out with Minho was a different kind of thrill—his kiss was rougher, more urgent, and his hands on her body felt almost foreign, in the best way. She moaned softly into his mouth, one of her hands slipping up into his hair, pulling him closer as Jongsuk’s hands continued to roam her body, sliding over her ass, gripping her thighs.

Both men were touching her now, groping her, hands moving over her breasts, her hips, her ass, exploring every inch they could reach. It was overwhelming in the most delicious way, their eager hands sending jolts of pleasure through her as they caressed and squeezed her, fingers brushing the lace of her thong, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.

Jieun pulled back, a playful smirk curling on her lips as she glanced down at their bodies, both of their cocks hard and throbbing, inches from her. “Looks like you’re both pretty worked up already,” she said, her voice low, teasing as she looked between them.

She reached down, her small hands wrapping around each of their cocks, feeling them twitch under her touch, hot and heavy in her palms. “Mm, I wonder which one of you is going to last the longest…” she mused, her voice a playful purr as she began to stroke them both, her hands moving slowly, deliberately, enjoying the way their bodies reacted to her touch.

Jongsuk groaned softly, his hips bucking slightly into her hand, while Minho let out a low growl, his grip on her waist tightening as he stared down at her, lust darkening his gaze. The weight of their cocks in her hands, the power she had over both of them in this moment, sent a thrill straight to her core, wetness already pooling between her legs, soaking the thin lace of her thong.

As she continued to jerk them off, she leaned in to kiss Jongsuk again, her tongue sliding against his, while her hand stroked his cock, slow and steady. After a moment, she pulled away from him, turning to Minho, kissing him with the same intensity, her other hand working his cock just as skillfully.

The whole time, their hands were on her, worshipping her body, squeezing, groping, sliding over her breasts, her ass, her thighs. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them wanting her so desperately, their bodies reacting to her touch, their cocks throbbing in her hands.

But as much as their eagerness excited her, there was a question lingering in the back of her mind—Is this it? Is this what I need to finally feel satisfied?

Her body was buzzing with anticipation, with lust, with the thrill of having two men at her mercy, but deep down, she still wondered if this was what would finally quench that nagging, unfulfilled desire that had been plaguing her for so long. Could this really be the answer?

Jieun's heart pounded in her chest, the thrill of what she was about to do overwhelming her senses. Her hands still wrapped around their cocks, she slowly sank down to her knees, the plush carpet soft beneath her as she came face-to-face with both men’s stiff lengths. Jongsuk's cock, familiar and loved, stood beside Minho's, another man’s erection staring back at her, making her pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and curiosity. The two cocks were of average size, nothing monstrous, but the act itself—the shared intimacy between them—made everything feel larger than life.

She glanced up at Jongsuk first, locking eyes with him, a playful glint in her gaze as she leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty drop of pre-cum that had already formed. He groaned, his hips twitching at her touch, and she smiled around his cock, savoring the control she had over him. This was her boyfriend, the man she loved, and here she was, kneeling before him, giving herself to this wild fantasy she had spun between them.

But she wasn’t done yet. Turning her head slightly, she shifted to Minho’s cock, giving him the same attention she had just given Jongsuk. Her tongue dragged along his length, starting from the base and moving slowly, deliberately, all the way to the tip. Minho’s breath hitched, his cock twitching in her hand as she reached the tip, giving it a soft, teasing kiss before pulling away. She could hear his low, guttural groan, and it sent a shiver of satisfaction through her.

She turned her attention back to Jongsuk, giving his cock another slow, deliberate swirl of her tongue around the head. This time, she kept her eyes locked on his, watching his reaction, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. “You like that, baby?” she purred softly, her voice teasing, dripping with seduction. “Does it feel good watching me like this... sharing me with him?”

Jongsuk let out a shaky breath, his hand instinctively moving to her hair, gripping it gently as he stared down at her. “Fuck, Jieun... yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. There was no hesitation in his answer now, no trace of doubt. He wanted this just as much as she did.

With that, Jieun took him fully into her mouth, her lips stretching around his length, sliding down until the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. She moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his shaft, sending another shiver down his spine. Her hand moved to Minho’s cock, pumping him slowly, steadily, as she sucked Jongsuk deeper into her wet, warm mouth.

Her mind buzzed with pleasure, the thrill of having both of them here, of tasting them both, overwhelming her. Maybe this really is what I needed, she thought as she moved her head up and down, sucking her boyfriend’s cock with practiced skill. She could feel her pussy throbbing, wetness pooling between her thighs, and the heat rising in her core. The excitement of having two men watching her, both of them hard and eager for her, was electric. Maybe this is what will finally satisfy me.

Once she had Jongsuk’s cock sufficiently slick with her saliva, she turned her attention back to Minho, switching effortlessly as she took him into her mouth next. Her hand returned to Jongsuk’s cock, stroking him with the same steady rhythm she had used on Minho before. Minho groaned deeply as her lips wrapped around him, her tongue swirling around his shaft just as she had done with Jongsuk. His fingers tangled in her hair, not rough but firm, guiding her just enough to let her know how much he wanted it.

She alternated between them, sucking one while jerking off the other, her movements fluid, confident, her body fully immersed in the pleasure of pleasing them both. Every time she switched, she could feel their reactions—Jongsuk’s sharp inhalations, Minho’s quiet growls—and it fueled her, pushing her deeper into the headspace she craved. Yes, this is what I needed. This is what I’ve been missing.

Her hands worked them both, her lips gliding over each cock, wet and eager, tasting them, savoring the way they responded to her touch. The room filled with the slick sounds of her mouth, the soft gasps and groans of the men as she worshipped their cocks, alternating between them as if she were trying to outdo herself with each turn.

At one point, Jieun got an idea, a flash of inspiration that made her heart race. She lowered her face just a little, placing herself beneath both of their cocks, letting their swollen heads rest just above her lips. She stuck her tongue out, letting it flicker between the two, teasing the sensitive tips of both cocks at once. Their reactions were immediate—Jongsuk let out a low moan, his grip tightening in her hair, while Minho groaned deeply, his fingers brushing the side of her cheek as he watched her with wide, lust-filled eyes.

She swirled her tongue between them, her eyes half-lidded, enjoying the way their cocks pulsed and twitched in response to her teasing. She kissed the head of Jongsuk’s cock, then Minho’s, her lips leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over both of them. The sight of her, on her knees, with two hard cocks hanging over her, her lips and tongue working both of them, was enough to send any man into a frenzy, and she could feel their restraint slipping, the way their hips moved involuntarily toward her, begging for more.

This is it, she thought again, a rush of heat coursing through her body as she continued her slutty display. This is what I needed all along. The power, the control, the attention of two men completely devoted to her pleasure—it was intoxicating. She could feel the satisfaction building, the knot of desire deep inside her starting to unravel. This is what will make me feel whole again.

Jieun’s moans became louder, more desperate as she continued to alternate between them, sucking one cock while stroking the other, then switching, her mouth wet and warm around them both. The way they responded to her, the way they moaned her name, only fueled her more. This was what she had been craving, this overwhelming sensation of being desired, of being shared, of having two men completely lost in her.

Jieun could feel the power thrumming through her body as she released their cocks with a loud, wet pop, their tips glistening from her mouth. She grinned, her eyes flicking up at the two men as she gave each of their throbbing heads a teasing kiss, her lips lingering just enough to drive them crazy. Jongsuk's cock twitched at her touch, and Minho groaned, his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to thrust into her mouth again. They were both on the verge of losing control, their bodies aching for release, but Jieun wasn’t done playing with them yet.

"Come here," she purred, rising gracefully to her feet, her hands immediately wrapping around their shafts again. She tugged them both toward the bed, leading them by their cocks as if they were nothing more than her obedient toys. The way their hips jerked in response to her every pull sent a thrill straight to her core, and she knew she had them exactly where she wanted them.

Once she reached the bed, Jieun let go of their cocks again, watching as they stood there, eyes glazed over with pure lust, waiting for her next move. She climbed onto the mattress slowly, deliberately, her every movement slow and sensual, giving them a perfect view of her body as she crawled to the center of the king-sized bed. Her ass swayed with every step, the thin strip of lace barely covering her as she got on all fours, her body stretched out like an offering.

She paused in the middle of the bed, arching her back, making sure her ass was fully on display for them. Jieun glanced back over her shoulder, her dark hair cascading over one side as she gave them a smoldering look, the fire in her eyes practically daring them to touch her. "Look at how hard you both are for me," she teased, her voice thick with arousal. "Stroke your cocks for me. I want to see you both jerk off while you watch me."

Jongsuk and Minho didn’t need to be told twice. Their hands wrapped around their cocks, stroking slowly at first, their eyes locked onto Jieun’s perfect ass as she wiggled it for them, the lace thong doing nothing to hide the curves of her body. The sound of their labored breathing filled the room, and Jieun smiled, biting her lower lip as she watched them struggle to contain themselves.

She lowered her upper body onto the bed, her chest pressing against the sheets, arching her back even more to push her ass higher into the air. Her hands slid back, caressing her own ass before smacking it lightly, the sound of her hand slapping her flesh making both men groan, their strokes quickening involuntarily. "Mm, you like that?" she cooed, her fingers playing with the waistband of her thong, tugging it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "I bet you want to fuck me so bad right now... but you have to be patient."

They groaned in unison, their eyes locked on her every movement, their hands jerking their cocks faster. But Jieun wasn’t done teasing them yet. She smacked her ass again, harder this time, making it jiggle just enough to drive them wild. "Slow down," she commanded softly, a playful edge in her voice. "You’ll do exactly what I say, or else you won’t get a taste of this tonight."

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, and Minho let out a frustrated grunt, but they both obeyed, slowing their hands despite the obvious struggle. Jieun smirked, pleased with their obedience, and finally slid her thong down, peeling the delicate fabric from her ass and thighs, revealing her bare skin. The tiny strip of lace slipped over her knees and onto the bed, leaving her completely exposed save for the garter and stockings still adorning her legs.

She tossed the thong toward them, and Minho caught it easily, immediately bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as the scent of her arousal filled his senses. His cock jerked in his hand, and without missing a beat, he wrapped the thong around his length, using it to jerk himself off as he stroked faster. "Fuck, Jieun," Minho growled, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on her dripping pussy.

Jieun grinned, loving how wild she was making them both. "You like that, don’t you? Fighting over me... stroking yourselves like you’re desperate for me." She glanced at Jongsuk, her boyfriend’s eyes dark with lust as his hand worked his cock faster, his gaze fixated on her bare ass, on her slick, wet pussy that glistened between her thighs. "You’ve both got me so wet," she moaned, spreading her ass cheeks wide with both hands, showing them everything—her tight, puckered asshole, her soaked cunt, all of it on display just for them.

The two men groaned loudly, their strokes becoming erratic as they watched her tease them, her fingers spreading herself open, her voice sweet and filthy as she told them how turned on they were making her. Minho was stroking his cock with her thong still wrapped around it, his face twisted in pleasure, while Jongsuk’s eyes were glued to the sight of her spread wide, his hand moving faster and faster.

Jieun could tell they were close, their bodies tensing, their breath coming in ragged gasps, and it made her pulse race even more. She decided to push them just a little further, to make this a game, something to heighten the intensity of the moment.

"Mm, you’re both about to cum, aren’t you?" she teased, her voice low and sultry. "But here’s the thing..." She flipped onto her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening and ready as she leaned back against a pillow, looking up at them with a wicked smile. "The last one to cum gets to fuck me first. So, if you want to be the one inside me... you better hold it in."

Jongsuk’s eyes widened, and Minho groaned, their hands hesitating for just a moment as they processed her words. But the sight of her, lying there with her legs spread, her fingers dipping down to rub her wet pussy right in front of them, was too much to handle. She started to play with herself, her fingers sliding over her swollen clit, her hips lifting off the bed as she moaned softly. "Come on, baby," she whispered, looking at Jongsuk, then Minho. "Who’s going to cum for me first? Don’t you want to fuck me? Don’t you want to be the one to feel how wet I am?"

Her dirty words, her slick fingers rubbing her pussy, the way her body writhed on the bed—it was pushing them both to the brink. Their hands were a blur, their cocks jerking furiously as they watched her play with herself, their eyes glued to the sight of her wetness, to the way she teased them with every moan, every soft gasp.

Minho’s hand tightened around his cock, the thong still wrapped around it as he stroked faster, his eyes locked on her pussy. He was close—so close he could feel the orgasm building in his core, ready to explode at any moment.

But Jongsuk wasn’t far behind, his body trembling as he fought to hold back, his eyes fixed on Jieun’s face, her lips parted in pleasure as she rubbed herself faster, teasing him, making him want to cum so badly but knowing he had to hold on if he wanted to be the first to fuck her.

"Who’s going to give in?" she purred, her voice a soft taunt as she arched her back, her fingers dipping lower, sliding over her slick folds as she moaned louder. "Come on, boys... I want to see you lose control for me."

Minho's body tensed, his strokes becoming erratic, and before he could stop himself, he came. Thick spurts of cum splattered across the carpet, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his body shuddered with release. He cursed under his breath, knowing he had lost, but the sight of Jieun still on her knees, watching him with that teasing smile on her lips, made it all the more frustrating.

“Aww, too bad, Minho,” Jieun cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, her finger playfully curling toward Jongsuk. “Looks like you’re not the lucky one tonight.” She bit her lip as she turned her attention fully to her boyfriend. “Come here, baby.”

Jongsuk stepped forward, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of finally being the one to take her. But Jieun had other plans. She got back on all fours, her body curving sensually as she wrapped her hand around Jongsuk’s cock. Slowly, she began stroking him, her grip firm and teasing as she gazed up at him with dark, hooded eyes.

“You've been so good, holding back for me,” she whispered before leaning in, her tongue flicking out to trace the head of his cock. Jongsuk groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, but Jieun was in full control now. She swirled her tongue around him, her lips wrapping around his swollen head before she took him deeper into her mouth.

Her tongue danced along his length, her hand stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. Jongsuk’s hand found her hair, his fingers tightening in her dark locks as he watched her worship his cock. Jieun’s wet, warm mouth moved over him, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him with fervor. She looked up at him the whole time, her eyes gleaming, filled with that insatiable hunger.

It didn’t take long for Jongsuk to reach the edge, his hips bucking into her mouth as his cock twitched violently. With a choked moan, he came, thick ropes of cum spilling into Jieun’s mouth. She moaned softly around him, taking every drop, her tongue swirling lazily around his cock as he came down from his high. She kissed the tip of his cock one last time, licking him clean, her lips and tongue savoring every inch of him before she pulled away, her smile mischievous as she looked up at him.

She kissed the head of his cock, leaving his shaft glistening and spotless. Jongsuk shuddered, collapsing onto the nearby chair, his chest heaving, but before he could recover fully, Jieun gave him a playful look.

“Do you want to fuck me right away, or would you like a little break?” she asked, voice still sweet, but there was a hint of challenge in it, a test.

Jongsuk, still catching his breath, felt a pang of guilt as he leaned back. “I think… I might need a moment,” he admitted. Disappointing, Jieun thought, though she kept her expression soft and understanding. She simply nodded and smiled, hiding the tiny flicker of frustration. She wanted more, needed more. But Jongsuk was always a little slower to catch up to her desires.

As he settled into the chair, Minho, not one to miss an opportunity, stepped forward. “I can help,” he said, his voice eager, his cock still half-hard despite his recent release. Jieun raised an eyebrow at him, thinking he might try to claim what he had lost by coming first. But she wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

“Help, huh?” Jieun smirked, glancing over at Jongsuk before turning back to Minho. “Alright... but you’re not fucking me yet. You’ll be eating me out while Jongsuk watches.” Her tone was authoritative, leaving no room for argument. Minho didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, already eager to please her.

Jieun positioned herself on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her pussy glistening with a mixture of her own arousal and anticipation. “Go ahead,” she purred, running her fingers lightly over her clit, teasing herself just enough to get him started. Minho leaned in, wasting no time, his mouth immediately latching onto her wet folds. His tongue was eager, swirling around her swollen clit, then dipping down to taste her slick entrance.

Minho’s mouth worked feverishly, licking, sucking, devouring her like he was starved for it. His tongue flicked against her clit with precision, then trailed down, plunging into her tight cunt, fucking her with his mouth in a desperate attempt to make her cum. Jieun threw her head back, her hands tangling in his hair as her hips bucked against his face. The pleasure was sharp, intense, and she could feel the knot in her core tightening with every stroke of his tongue.

She glanced over at Jongsuk, who was watching them from the chair, his cock already hardening again as he stroked himself slowly, eyes wide with fascination. Seeing him aroused by this only made Jieun’s pleasure climb higher, the idea of being watched as she was pleasured sending shivers down her spine. Minho wasn’t just preparing her for Jongsuk—he was trying to make her cum, trying to win her over completely.

And it worked.

Jieun’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling as Minho’s relentless tongue pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure crashed through her body. She let out a low, guttural moan, her hips jerking against Minho’s face as she rode the high of her release.

“Fuck,” she gasped, pushing Minho’s head away, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “That was... good.” She smiled, her body still tingling, but there was no time to rest. She needed more. Her body was burning for it.

Turning her gaze to Jongsuk, she crooked her finger, beckoning him over. “Come here,” she commanded softly, her voice thick with need. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Jongsuk stood, his cock fully hard again from watching them, his earlier hesitation melting away. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over Jieun, their bodies aligning in a familiar but now electrifying way. He settled between her legs, his cock pressing against her slick entrance, the wetness of her pussy mixed with Minho’s saliva making the glide easy.

Jieun wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep kiss, their tongues tangling as she ground her pussy against him, her slick folds coating his cock in her arousal. “Put it in,” she whispered against his lips, her voice heavy with desire. “I need you to fuck me, Jongsuk.”

He obliged, pushing into her slowly, but Jieun was impatient now. She needed to be fucked, needed to be filled, and the slow pace wasn’t cutting it. “Faster,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

Jongsuk’s pace quickened, his hips slamming into her as he fucked her harder, his cock filling her over and over again. But Jieun needed more, craved more, and no matter how fast he went, it wasn’t enough. “More,” she moaned, her voice needy, desperate. “Harder.”

The intensity of her need caught him off guard. Jongsuk had never seen her like this, so ravenous, so demanding. He tried to keep up, pounding into her, but he was already close, the overwhelming sensation of her wet pussy gripping him making it impossible to hold on. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his body tensing, hips losing rhythm.

“Stop,” Jieun commanded breathlessly, her voice sharp. She pushed him off, her hands firm against his chest. “I’m not done yet.”

Jongsuk blinked in surprise, but before he could protest, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. “Come here,” she ordered, her eyes blazing with lust. “You’re going to fuck me now... and you better not cum right away.”

Minho, still stroking his cock, stood immediately. His eyes flashed with excitement, eager to finally get his chance. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind Jieun as she arched her back, her ass lifting invitingly toward him. Jongsuk, still catching his breath, watched from the side, trying to make sense of his emotions. There was a part of him that stung with rejection, but another, deeper part of him... was fascinated. Turned on even, as he watched Minho grip Jieun’s hips and line himself up with her dripping wet pussy.

When Minho finally thrust into her, Jieun cried out, her voice high-pitched and raw with pleasure. “Yes!” she screamed, her body jolting forward as Minho buried himself inside her. He fucked her with a ferocity that Jongsuk hadn’t managed, his hips slamming into her harder and faster with every thrust, just like she had begged for.

Jongsuk watched, his eyes wide, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke his cock again. The sight of Minho drilling into Jieun, the way her body arched, the way she moaned and gasped, the sound of skin slapping against skin—it all fascinated him. What intrigued him even more was how hard he was getting just watching the two of them.

Minho’s thrusts became uneven, his hips faltering as he tried to keep up with Jieun’s increasingly desperate demands. Despite his best efforts, even his eager pace wasn’t enough for her, and Jieun could feel her dissatisfaction creeping back in, the same gnawing emptiness that had haunted her nights with Jongsuk. She needed more—something deeper, something wilder, something that would finally fill the void inside her.

It hit her then: she wanted both of them, inside her at the same time. That was the only way she could get closer to the satisfaction she was chasing. She had been on edge all night, but the idea of being fucked in both her pussy and ass at once sparked a new heat, a new kind of lust that she knew would finally push her closer to what she needed.

“Stop,” she gasped, pushing Minho off of her, her body shuddering from the effort of holding back her frustrations. “Get off, I want to change positions.”

Minho, panting and confused, immediately withdrew, his cock slick with her juices as he sat back on his heels. Jieun wasted no time, rolling over and getting onto all fours again, her eyes flashing with intensity as she pointed at Jongsuk, then gestured for him to take his place behind her. She was done playing. She wanted this—needed this.

“Jongsuk,” she breathed, her voice dripping with command, “I want you to fuck me from behind.” Then, she pointed at Minho, her lips curling into a sultry smile. “And you, come up here... I want your cock in my throat.”

Jongsuk’s eyes gleamed as he moved into position behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up with her dripping pussy. Without hesitation, he slid his cock back inside her, and she moaned softly, her body arching with the familiar sensation. But this time, it was different. This time, her mind was already locked onto what was coming next.

As Jongsuk began to thrust into her from behind, his hips slamming into her ass with the sound of skin smacking against skin, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. Her eyes were glazed over with lust, her lips parted as she watched him approach. He was already hard again, his cock twitching in his hand as he stood before her. With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened her mouth and guided him inside, her lips wrapping around his shaft with a practiced ease.

Jongsuk groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he pounded into her from behind, his cock driving into her slick pussy harder and faster. Her peachy ass bounced with each thrust, the impact sending ripples through her body. He smacked her ass once, twice, watching the way it jiggled under his hand before gripping it firmly, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust.

Meanwhile, Jieun’s lips were wrapped around Minho’s cock, her eyes locked onto his as she took him deeper into her throat. The sounds of her squelching throat filled the room, wet with drool as she worked him with her mouth. Impressively, she didn’t gag—there was no challenge for her, even as he pushed deeper into her throat. She could take him, and she did, her throat relaxing around his shaft as her head bobbed back and forth, keeping rhythm with Jongsuk’s thrusts from behind.

The two men were groaning, lost in the heat of the moment. Minho’s hands tangled in her hair as he gently guided her movements, his hips bucking slightly as he fucked her throat. Jongsuk was grunting, his cock slamming into her with reckless abandon, the wet sounds of her pussy filling the room. Jieun was aware of how turned on they were, how much they were enjoying themselves, and she kept up the act, moaning around Minho’s cock, her body writhing beneath Jongsuk’s hands as if she were getting closer to the edge.

But the truth was, she still wasn’t there. Not yet.

That gnawing hunger for more clawed at her, and she knew exactly what she needed now. She pulled back from Minho’s cock with a gasp, her lips wet with spit as she looked up at him, her eyes flashing with a new kind of intensity. “I want you both,” she said, her voice low, sultry. “I want you in my pussy and my ass at the same time.”

Minho groaned, looking down at her with wide eyes, clearly eager to fulfill her request. Jongsuk paused for a moment, his hands still gripping her hips as he processed what she was asking for. But he didn’t hesitate. “Alright,” Jongsuk said, breathless, pulling out of her slowly.

Jieun shifted, rolling onto her back for a moment before sliding onto Minho’s lap. She straddled him, positioning herself over his cock, her wet pussy already slick and ready as she lowered herself onto him. Minho groaned as she sank down onto him, his hands immediately moving to her hips as she began to ride him.

But Jieun wasn’t done yet. She glanced back at Jongsuk, who was already reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He spread the slippery gel over his cock, then lubed up his fingers, gently rubbing the slick substance around the tight entrance of her ass. Jieun shivered at the sensation, her breath hitching as she felt his fingers slip inside, preparing her for what was to come.

When she was ready, Jongsuk positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against the tight, lubed entrance of her ass. Slowly, he pushed forward, the pressure building as his cock slid inside her inch by inch. Jieun moaned, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed, allowing him to stretch her ass open, filling her completely.

For the first time that night, she felt it. That fullness. That overwhelming sensation of being filled in both her pussy and ass at the same time. It was exactly what she had been craving, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips as she settled into the sensation, her body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her voice breathless as she looked between the two men. “Start moving. I want you both to fuck me... like the dirty slut I am.”

Jongsuk didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he began to thrust into her ass, his cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes at first. Meanwhile, Minho started moving beneath her, his cock thrusting up into her pussy as he gripped her waist, the two men finding a rhythm as they fucked her in unison.

Jieun’s body rocked between them, her hips grinding down onto Minho’s cock while Jongsuk’s cock filled her ass from behind. She felt the delicious stretch of her ass, the fullness in her pussy, and for the first time that night, she was starting to feel something close to the satisfaction she had been chasing. The sensation of being used by both of them at once, her body caught between two cocks, was exactly what she needed.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, her voice desperate, urging them on. “Fuck me harder... I want you both to use me... treat me like your dirty little slut.”

Jongsuk groaned, his hips slamming into her ass with more force now, his cock driving deeper into her with every thrust. Minho matched his pace, his cock filling her pussy with the same urgency. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, their grunts and groans, filled the room as they fucked her mercilessly, giving her exactly what she had begged for.

Jieun’s head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as they fucked her from both ends, her body trembling with the sheer intensity of it all. This—this was what she had been craving. This raw, primal need, this feeling of being completely overwhelmed, filled to the brim, fucked by both of them at once. She wasn’t pretending anymore.

Jieun's body was the picture of bliss, her lips parted in moans as Jongsuk and Minho relentlessly pounded into her, filling her from both ends. Her eyes rolled back, her breath ragged, and for a brief moment, she thought she had finally reached it—euphoria. Being stuffed by two men, her holes stretched and used, should have been enough. It felt like it should have been enough. But as the minutes ticked by, and the rhythm of their thrusts became predictable, Jieun’s pleasure slowly, cruelly, began to dull.

She tried to keep the fire alive, pushing herself to find satisfaction, to demand more from them. Her lips parted to speak, to command, "Harder… fuck me harder, do better..." But the words barely escaped her mouth before Minho grunted above her, his voice tight and strained.

"I’m close," he breathed, his thrusts losing their power.

Jongsuk, behind her, echoed the same. "Shit... I’m almost there too..."

Inside, Jieun sighed, feeling the disappointment weigh heavy in her chest. Her pussy clenched instinctively, trying to draw out any last pleasure from them, but it was too late. They were already on the edge, and she knew it was over. She would never get the satisfaction she had been chasing, not tonight. But she couldn’t let them know that.

So she bit down on her frustration and plastered a look of lust across her face, throwing her head back as if she were on the brink of orgasm herself. "Mmm, yes, I’m gonna cum too," she moaned, her voice sultry, playing the part of the satisfied lover to perfection. "But when you cum... pull out. Cum on my face... in my mouth," she panted, giving them the fantasy they were craving.

The two men grunted their assent, their pace quickening as they chased their release. It didn’t take long—Minho was the first to pull out, his cock slick with her juices as he scrambled off the bed, hand furiously jerking his shaft as he stood over her. Jongsuk followed, his cock twitching as he withdrew from her ass, standing next to Minho with the same desperation in his eyes.

Jieun slid off the bed, positioning herself on her knees on the soft carpet, looking up at them with wide, slutty eyes. She opened her mouth, tongue out, her hands squeezing her tits together as the two men jerked their cocks inches from her face.

"Come on," she whispered, her voice low and teasing, "give me your cum. Cover me. Fill my dirty little mouth."

It was all they needed. Minho was the first to erupt, thick ropes of cum spurting across Jieun’s beautiful face, coating her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She moaned as it splattered onto her skin, licking her lips seductively, making a show of how much she loved being covered in their release. Jongsuk followed almost immediately, his load joining Minho’s, his cock jerking in his hand as he shot his cum into her waiting mouth. Jieun moaned louder, letting the hot, salty liquid pool on her tongue before swallowing it down, opening her mouth to show them the remnants of their pleasure.

"Fuck, yes... such a dirty slut for our cum,” groaned the men. Jieun moaned, her voice thick with arousal as she scooped the stray drops off her face with her fingers, licking them clean like it was the sweetest treat. She glanced up at them, her expression still one of pure lust, even as her mind was already elsewhere, trying to reconcile the empty ache that lingered inside her.

Once they were done, their bodies spent, Jieun made a show of licking their cocks clean, sucking gently on the heads, making sure there wasn’t a drop left. When she finished, she smiled up at them, her face still smeared with their release. "Just wait here," she said sweetly, getting to her feet. "I’ll be right back."

As she walked to the bathroom, Jongsuk and Minho collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted and drained. Jieun glanced at them over her shoulder, her face still a mask of seductive satisfaction. But the moment she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, her expression shifted. She leaned over the toilet, spitting out the cum she had held in her mouth, her stomach twisting in knots. The aftertaste lingered bitterly on her tongue as she flushed it away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The mirror caught her eye, and she stared at her reflection, her face smeared with cum and her eyes reflecting back confusion and frustration. Two men, she thought bitterly. I had two men, and still... The dull ache of dissatisfaction gnawed at her, a cruel reminder that no matter what she did, no matter how wild the night, it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough.

She turned on the shower, letting the warm water wash away the cum on her skin, her mind racing as the water cascaded over her. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied? She scrubbed harder, the water mingling with her frustration as she tried to cleanse herself not just of the night, but of the emptiness that followed her every encounter.

Once she finished, she wrapped a towel around her body and stepped back into the bedroom. Jongsuk was still lying on the bed, his eyes following her as she moved across the room. Minho had already risen and was heading to the bathroom to shower, knowing he wouldn’t be staying the night with the couple.

Jieun smiled sweetly at Jongsuk, climbing into bed next to him. "Did you like it?" he asked, his voice soft, hopeful.

She didn’t hesitate. "Of course," she lied easily, giving him a reassuring smile. "It was amazing, baby." She leaned in, kissing him gently. "Did you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking relieved. "It was... really something."

"Good," Jieun whispered, nuzzling against him, hiding the conflict swirling inside her. They snuggled together on the bed, Jongsuk’s arm draped over her waist as he sighed contentedly. But Jieun’s mind was already far away, drifting through the haze of unsatisfied desires.

Minho finished showering, emerging from the bathroom with a smile. "Thanks for tonight," he said, his voice friendly, but tired. "It was... incredible."

The couple thanked him in return, and Jongsuk offered to walk him out, but Minho waved it off. "Nah, man, look after her," he said with a grin, clapping Jongsuk on the shoulder before giving him a quick, friendly handshake. "See you around."

Jieun watched him go, her smile never faltering until the door closed behind him. And then, as silence settled over the room, she leaned back against the pillows, Jongsuk’s arm still around her, her body warm from the shower. But her mind buzzed with one burning question.

Why wasn’t it enough?

Jieun watched as Jongsuk disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence left in his wake. As soon as she was alone, she exhaled sharply, biting her bottom lip—not from arousal, but from the growing frustration that had been gnawing at her ever since the threesome had ended. Why hadn’t she felt satisfied? Two men—two cocks—her wildest fantasies lived out right in front of her, and still, that dull ache of emptiness lingered.

She could feel it clawing at the back of her mind, an unresolved hunger that no amount of sex tonight had managed to quell. What’s wrong with me? she thought, her fingers restlessly drumming against the sheets. She couldn’t understand why, after everything, she still felt so hollow inside. But then... a thought bubbled up from the recesses of her mind.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Jieun reached for her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen. She knew what she was looking for—the video. That certain video. It had been sitting there, teasing her thoughts ever since she’d first stumbled upon it. She quickly found it in his saved videos, and before she could second-guess herself, she pressed play.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the screen, and there they were: two massive, hulking black men, their dark skin gleaming under the lights, their muscles rippling as they towered over the woman between them. Their cocks—fuck, they were enormous, long and thick, stretching the woman’s holes to the absolute limit. The sheer size of them filled the screen, pounding into the woman relentlessly, taking turns fucking her ass and pussy in a way that made Jieun’s breath hitch.

Black men.

She’d watched this video before, but somehow, tonight, the sight of those bulging muscles, that dark, gleaming skin, and those impossibly thick cocks made her pulse quicken in a way that nothing else had. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily as her body responded, her pussy slick with wetness.

Was it not just the threesome that had been missing? Was it them? The size, the intensity, the raw power behind every thrust? As she watched those two men use the woman, filling her up in ways Jieun could only dream of, her fingers instinctively slipped down between her thighs, parting her slick folds as her breath quickened. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

The sound of water running in the bathroom faded into the background as Jieun’s fingers circled her clit, her body responding faster than it had all night. She followed the rhythm of the video, the wet slaps of the men’s cocks echoing through the room as they drilled the woman mercilessly. Jieun’s pussy squelched as her fingers worked faster, mirroring the pace of the black men’s thrusts.

Her thoughts became a chant—fuck, fuck, fuck—echoing in her mind as she imagined herself in the woman’s place, stuffed full by two impossibly large cocks, their dark skin pressed against hers, their deep voices groaning in pleasure. The wet, filthy sounds filled the room, and she was so fucking close—closer than she had been all night.

Her fingers moved faster, her hips bucking against her hand as her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in quick, desperate gasps. Just as the men in the video slammed into the woman one last time, Jieun’s body tensed, her fingers slipping deeper into her wet cunt. She let out a soft, muffled squeal, covering her mouth with her free hand as her body spasmed in release. Her juices gushed out over her fingers as she squirted, her whole body shaking as the orgasm tore through her like a wave crashing against a rocky shore.

Jieun’s mind went blank for a moment, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her fingers were slick with her own cum, and the phone lay abandoned on the bed, the video still playing in the background. She blinked, dazed, her breath ragged as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had just come—harder than she had all night—and it was all from watching that video.

A video of a woman getting fucked by two black men.

Jieun gasped softly, the realization crashing into her with full force. Was that what she wanted all along? Was it not just the idea of a threesome but... them? The size, the dominance, the way those cocks filled the woman completely? Her pulse quickened again at the thought, the wetness between her legs already threatening to return.

Before she could fully process it, she heard the bathroom door open, and Jongsuk emerged with a towel slung low around his waist, his skin still damp from the shower. He was smiling, walking over to her as he rubbed the towel through his hair. "Hey," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. But when he saw the look on her face, his smile faltered slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Jieun quickly composed herself, forcing a smile as she shook her head. "No, nothing’s wrong," she lied smoothly, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. She kissed him again, more softly this time, before hugging him tightly, her body pressed against his. But as her lips brushed his, she couldn’t stop thinking about those massive black cocks from the video, filling up the woman in ways Jongsuk could never compare to. Her body was already betraying her, the thought alone making her wet again.

They both got ready for bed, slipping under the covers of the king-sized bed they had paid for, Jongsuk snuggling up against her. His arm draped over her waist, pulling her close as he kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, baby," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"Goodnight," Jieun whispered back, forcing another smile as she lay in his arms. But even as his body pressed against hers, warm and familiar, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was buzzing, her thoughts racing. She bit her lip, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration—it was because the memory of those black cocks filled her head, and with each passing second, the ache between her thighs grew harder to ignore.

Is that what I need? she thought, her pulse quickening once again. Big, thick, black cocks... She pressed her legs together, trying to stave off the rising desire that pulsed through her, but it was no use. Her body was betraying her, and no matter how hard she tried to stop herself, her mind kept wandering back to that video. To the sight of those two men using the woman, stretching her to the limit.

Jongsuk’s soft breathing filled the room as he drifted off to sleep beside her, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling in Jieun’s mind. She lay there, wide awake, biting her lip as the thought of being fucked by men like that consumed her thoughts. The ache between her legs refused to go away, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized—that might be what she needed after all.

But what did that mean for her and Jongsuk?

.

.

.

a/n: hiiii! I haven't released anything in a while. With how busy I got and other things, but I was preparing this project series- yes it's gonna be a series- for a while now and I thought it's high time it should see the light of day haha. well that's all for now. I hope you'd look forward to the next chapters! do like and reblog if you enjoyed it mehehe. oh and i'm always open to constructive criticism so feel free to leave some if you want~

[aerospectrum]

Sam sat on the coffee table across from Cas so he was closer to eye level with him. It was jarring to know just how much power Gabriel really had over things... "You wanna talk about it?" he watched Cas shrug and the angry teen demeanor wash off to a look of quiet resignation. "Madison's not in danger is she?" Sam could only sigh when Cas wouldn't speak but shook his head no. "You've gotta talk to one of us, Cas... I'm not gonna yell at you."

His chapped lips parted and Cas looked away, down at his knees and blinked a few times; his voice cracked at his admission. "You were busy with the spells and..." he swallowed and shrugged. Sam read the jealousy in seconds and gave Cas' knee a pat and squeeze. "He didn't even know I left, he didn't even care."

Dean melted into Madison's hands on his face, her soft lips, the scent of her shampoo, her warm skin; it all brought him back to her. "Are you ok? All I need you to do is be ok... with me." Then he sighed and wrapped his arms around Madison, pulling her against him- he stood and held her like that for a long time, carding his hands through her hair, rubbing them against her back, trying to comfort himself and her with the physical touch. "Gabe uses tricks to hide the truth, it's his game..." he finally spoke, breathing in the scent of her hair and trying to calm himself more. "Even if he was following us all morning- it still doesn't explain what he meant about Cas not telling us... or what he meant with the digs at you and me..." he bristled again.

"There's gotta be a reason Cas won't tell us what he told Gabriel to get him to come out of hiding... and I was too rough with him. I'll be lucky if he even says five words to me after this is all over." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I hated when my dad treated me that way... it was like I couldn't stop it, I didn't stop." Dean took another breath in. "He's talking about Naomi, she handles this type of shit. Who knows how many times Cas has been dragged up there and had his ass reset... guy comes back a cocky sonofabitch every time, like a fucking robot that I have to jailbreak worse that before."

Dean's eyes shifted back and forth in thought, but he didn't want to entertain the fear, and he knew Cas wouldn't give him an answer now even if he did ask him if the reason he called for Gabe was to protect himself from Naomi's punishment-- or was it to protect Madison? Fuck. Now the regret kicked in. He exhaled heavily. "Look.. I hate to ask you and... and if you don't want to I won't make you, but... I... I don't think Cas called Gabe to hurt you- i think I know why he did… I do, but I also don’t think he’s gonna talk to me so... if you ask about Naomi, you have a better chance at getting an answer than I do."

All Madison could do was sit on the could & stare again. Her eyes staying focused away from cas. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t scared. Or maybe she was. All she knew was she’s been on the brink of death the last few days & it made her stomach twist.

When cas refused to answer dean she could hear the way his voice hardened. She figured he would be more than upset. She could hear his anger grow more & more & it almost made her look up & tell him to stop. Thankfully Sam cut in when he did. It eased the tension & stopped the peak.

Once Dean had Madison in the kitchen, she looked up at him. His face flustered, breathing heavy, & ears a bit red. “Hey… hey it’s okay.” She reached out placing her hands on his chest & rubbing, “relax… you’re upset. You’re thinking a lot, just… relax for a second.”

The look on his face had her frowning, he looked stressed, defeated, maybe even hurt. “Hey, we are all alive. Right? That’s a good thing… I’m okay. Cas is okay? You & sam are too.” She sighed, “I know I don’t know much, but I atleast know that’s something.” Her hands cupped his face forcing him to look at her. When her words still weren’t registering, or atleast she thought they weren’t, she stood on the tips of her tips & kissed his lips.

“Dean.” She whispered, “tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. What about the guy? What do we do about him?” Her hands still rubbing his chest trying to put out the fire that was brewing.

“He said he’s been watching us since this morning at the park…. He said I pissed someone off in heaven.”

[kokomyass]

sleepless nights

it is one of those days when you can't seem to slumber and toji can see through your disguise >3<

The night was still, and the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of Toji’s breathing. You lay beside him, nestled under the thick, warm blankets, eyes squeezed shut, trying your hardest to look like you were fast asleep. But you knew he’d see right through it if he turned his attention your way. Toji could always tell.

You’d struggled with insomnia for as long as you could remember. You hated nights like this—lying in the dark, counting seconds, trying not to disturb the peace of Toji’s deep, effortless sleep. He looked so comfortable, led on his back! one arm covering his forehead and the other outstretched under your head, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. The thought of accidentally waking him up made you feel guilty.

Maybe if you stayed still enough, he wouldn’t notice.

But then you felt him stir beside you. His arm shifted slightly, and you tensed, trying not to breathe too loudly. You heard him take a deeper breath, and then a low, sleepy murmur followed.

“Y/N.”

Your heart skipped. Maybe if you didn’t answer, he’d just go back to sleep. You held your breath, hoping he’d buy your act.

Toji’s voice came again, rough around the edges but unmissably alert now. “Stop pretending. I know you’re awake.”

A sigh escaped you before you could stop it. “I was trying not to wake you.”

He made a sound between a scoff and a chuckle, pulling himself up onto one elbow. His dark hair fell a little messily over his face, and his eyes were heavy-lidded but sharp as ever. "You think you can fool me?” he murmured, reaching over to brush his knuckles lightly along your cheek. “You’re tossing and turning like you’re fighting someone in your dreams.”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch. He was so close now that you could see his soft, but subtle gaze on you. You shrugged, looking away. “It’s just… hard to fall asleep sometimes.”

He studied you for a moment, expression unreadable, then huffed softly. “Then you should’ve woken me up.”

You turned back to him, surprised. “I didn’t want to bother you. You need your sleep.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled the blanket down a bit, gathering you close so that you were snug against his bare chest. He was so warm, so solid, and his large, muscular arm wrapped around you protectively. The heat radiating from him felt like a blanket all on its own.

“Sleep doesn’t matter if you’re lying here suffering,” he said, his voice low. “Got it?”

The warmth in his voice surprised you. Toji rarely showed this side, the gentle, unguarded part of him. You couldn’t help but smile softly, letting yourself relax a little against him. “You make it sound like I’m suffering so much.”

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “You are if you’re lying here pretending to sleep.”

You let out a soft laugh, and Toji’s expression softened further, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand came up to gently trace small circles on your back, his touch soothing and steady. The roughness of his calloused fingers was grounding, and the slow motion began to ease the tension from your muscles.

“Just close your eyes,” he murmured, his breath warm against the top of your head. “Don’t think about anything. Just feel my hand.”

You followed his instructions, letting your eyes drift shut, trying to focus on the comforting, repetitive motion of his hand on your back, the sound of his breathing in your ear. Toji’s presence was grounding, reassuring, a silent promise that he’d keep you safe, even from the restless thoughts that tended to keep you awake.

After a while, you felt his fingers pause, his arm tightening slightly around you as if he was testing to see if you’d finally dozed off.

“…Still awake?” he murmured.

“Mm,” you hummed, too comfortable to answer fully.

Toji huffed, amused but determined. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You smiled, eyes still closed, letting your head rest against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped beneath your ear, creating a soft, grounding rhythm that finally started to lull you. The feeling of his strong arm around you, his warmth surrounding you, began to blur the line between wakefulness and sleep.

After a few quiet moments, you felt him shift again, his fingers now gently brushing through your hair in long, slow strokes. His touch was more delicate than you ever thought possible, and the small, tender gestures made your heart swell.

“Thank you, Toji,” you murmured, voice heavy with sleep now. “For… staying up with me.”

He just grunted, his hand still trailing through your hair. “S’not a big deal.”

But you knew it was. You knew Toji wasn’t one to lose sleep for anyone else. And you knew that this side of him—the side that held you so protectively, that stroked your hair and made sure you felt safe—was a part of him he shared only with you.

You felt yourself drifting off at last, warmth and comfort seeping through every inch of you. Just before you slipped completely into sleep, you heard his voice, soft and low, barely more than a whisper.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

With him there beside you, his large, warm body holding you close, you finally found peace. The night stretched on, calm and quiet, and for the first time in a long time, you felt yourself relax completely, letting sleep finally carry you away in his arms.