#we will. we will talk about that. eventually.

[aj-living-life]

I have so many drama tales from high school but here's the longest running one (warning, reading it its not as funny as Ive been saying it is, but it sure is a show of the shit kids can get into): a friend of mine told me he had a crush on me while already dating a woman of color (race will be relevant), I was like "okay." And went on my way because I couldn't even comprehend the idea of him trying to cheat on his girlfriend with me, and just thought "wonder why he said that". He proceeded to pull this on a male friend I'd brought around, and when said male friend asked about his girlfriend, he said his racist grandmother forced him to break up with her, and my dumbass bi-curious male friend accepted this and they began dating. It was a lie, and two-timing people who go to the same school isn't gonna a work out well. I was spoken to by both cheated parties and was like "idk communicate? I'm 15 and my only relationship lasted a week" so they did, and somehow Mr. Two-time got them to agree to a polyamorous relationship where everyone was happy except they weren't really. Eventually, his tower of lies buckled beneath him and he left our lives to go build a new tower of lies elsewhere. His ex boyfriend and ex girlfriend got to talking, and realized they kinda liked each other, and wound up dating. They were happy, things were going well, but then the guy was texting and sharing dirty pics with his ex, yes the same ex, and that guy immediately told the girl and showed evidence since his reputation sucked. She dumped her new boyfriend too, and left the cheaters to be terrible together. After a while, I found myself falling in love with her, and after some awkwardness a mutual friend of ours was like "you two like each other so just kiss already!" And we were like "she likes me too?" "I do!" And they were like "poggers, you could go on double dates with me and my six-years-older boyfriend who plays guitar" and you'll never guess what the twist is. Comment a guess right now cause I promise it's wrong. She cheated on me with mutual-friend's six-years-older boyfriend who plays guitar. Istg high school was a chaotic mess of drama and I'm lucky I escaped as mostly a bystander compared to friends of mine.

where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school

[wonderjanga]

Fear

Most magicians are scared of the Champion of Magic. Don’t get them wrong, he’s a giant ball of sunshine and rainbows, but at the same time his mere… aura can cause Homo Magi to tremble just by being around him. As a result, most people have to force themselves to remember that this guy is a human golden retriever.

But you can probably guess, even if they force themselves to remember, it can still be scary. Especially for children.

Mother Witch: “Sweetie, meet the Champion of Magic.” *pulling her daughter along*

Daughter Witch: *trembling*

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you-”

Daughter Witch: *shrieks and literally teleports away*

*silence*

Marvel: *starts sulking*

Mother Witch: *feels bad* “Champion, it’s okay! She didn’t mean anything by it! Honest! She’s just a little… shy, that’s all.”

Marvel: “I appreciate you lying to try and make me feel better, but I still feel bad.”

So yeah, that’s how bad it is. And this is just the times when he’s happy and chilling. We don’t even wanna talk about the times he gets mad, which are thankfully rare but still terrify magic users.

Magicians: *arguing about something stupid*

Marvel: *steps into the room, smiling but pissed the fuck off*

Magicians: *immediately shut up and part like the Red Sea*

Marvel: *walks to one of the magicians at a podium*

Podium Magician: *immediately scurries off*

Marvel: *watches them go, and moves to stand at the podium before clearing his throat* “I am extremely disappointed in all of you.”

Magicians: *feel their hearts drop into their asses*

What followed was the most disappointment-filled and surprisingly condescending speech/scolding of an entire room of magicians. It almost felt like they were being scolded by a parent but even then, they’d never been this regretful because this guy could literally take away their magic with the snap of his fingers.

Meanwhile, Billy gets so upset that everyone’s afraid of him regardless whether or not he’s even talking to them.

Billy: :(

Eventually, he figured out that he was just oozing magic so he just started reining it in and that helped a lot.

Billy: :)

[4rticbolt]

Card DECLINED |Master-List|

Monster Trio+Law x !Fem!Reader, crack, fluff, modern-au, poor core (real), cashier is going THROUGH IT, !Early-relationship! , Ugh I thought this was so adorable, might be my favorite so far

They take you on a date and there card declines in-front of you...

Lemme know if I should do a fic for one of em' :)! (And spelling mistakes)

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

Luffy

100% bought it all on fast food, he holds a Guinness World Record for the most amount of food eaten, period.

Would be confused at first, and wouldn't get it till you finally told him somethings wrong with his card. He about shoved it in there 100x times...

"HAH!? Why's it not working!''

"Wait huh seriously? Aww man..."

He'd definitely apologize and laugh it off. But he'd silent judge his card for failing him now as he attempted to finally buy you something. He’d definitely go and text Nami to Venmo him some quick money for you--in which she'd automatically decline.

(Much like his card)

Your bf would grumble, but he'd be quick to mask it with his short attention span.

He ended up dragging you into another random store after finding a whopping 5 bucks on the ground, sopping wet and crumpled from the rain... But somehow the cashier accepted it out of pity and he'd managed to buy you a little doodad in exchange--coming up behind you with a surprise in hand.

He giddily spun you around gleaming with excitement as he pecked you on the cheek.

"Shisihi, look what I got youuu! It's awesome"

(It was a crooked hot-wheels, but you ended up putting it on your shelf to cherish it)

Zoro

Sake was his downfall. Alcohol as we all know is incredibly expensive so it wasn't even a surprise, you expected it to eventually happen with how much he loved his booze...

Moreover you'd think it was a turn off with all his bottles but he'd always been a responsible drinker, and he barely got drunk...maybe a few times if he'd finally eased up in your arms.

Though when he swiped his card, it hadn't gone through. He'd pause and play it off a first, trying again, but when the cashier finally told him their were insufficient funds he'd go beet red.

"I don't know what you're talking about, it's gotta be your stupid machine..."

Not slick, at. all.

He'd act dense abt it, though deep down he knew he royally fucked up, so much for a romantic date...

When you finally offered to pay, he stubbornly grumbled as you had placed some spare cash on the counter.

"Oi, You didn't have to do that..."

He wouldn't immediately say thank you, but he'd been quietly grateful you were smart to bring 'just in case' cash... which he'd also said wasn't necceasry... but look what happened.

You tended to be right in these scenarios.

A few days later he had begrudgingly said thank you and handed you some floppy but colorful flowers as he had randomly stopped by your house heading to work.

Coincidently getting lost, but he'd never admit it.

The offer was rather chaotic as you'd just gotten out of the shower, but it only made him more flustered.

"Didn't uh, mean to interrupt, just wanted to drop these off. And thank you for the other day."

Sanji

I physically cannot see this man's card declining, so he had probably used the wrong card...

But even if he did I could see him full on freaking out, like telling the cashier to run it again and crossing his arms as his fingers anxiously tapped on his arm. He almost went to call his bank until he realized it wasn't his main card and his embarrassed meter went through the roof.

He went pink, but as you offered to pay he immediately shut it down. Sanji would never let you pay for anything, he wanted to take care of you and spoil you like no other--so forget asking. Even if you weren't that far along in dating.

He'd rather search the floor for pennies than let you pay.

Though if you did somehow manage to pay, he'd pay you back beyonddd extra. Like I'm talking about full on flowers and little chocolates or anything romantic.

Even if you thought it was rude to accept, he'd quickly assure you it was okay and that 'he wanted to' so it didn't matter if it was 'payback' or not. He'd came over to hang out, and he'd gently grab your hand kissing it as he spoke with gentle words.

"My love, just take it please, it'd mean the world to me."

Law

Law's card wouldn't normally decline, but one of his transactions for his action figure(s) had finally come through and he didn't realized it till he'd taken you out for lunch.

The waiter had handed him back his card and he deadpanned for a moment--before telling them to try it again--but hopelessly it didn't make a difference. And to make things better the waiter outright said he was broke and needed a different form of payment.

Law would loathe the moment, feeling second-hand embarrassment for miles as he brooded wishing it happened anywhere else no mattering the time.

He'd be embarrassed, growing quiet with a darkened expression as he averted his gaze. Which it only intensified when you happily handed the waiter your card, assuring him it wasn't the end of the world... and that you were just happy to be here with him.

He had gone increasingly quiet, and you couldn't help but laugh as he covered his face with the tilt of his infamous hat.

"L-Let's just go."

This man would NEVER let it happen again, and he'd carefully watch his guilty spending habits with a sour expression. The thought of that moment practically kept him up at night.

Law didn't pay you back, but he'd taken a little time off work to spend more quality time with you as that seemed to make you happy. And your doctor-in-training wanted nothing more than to see your smile.

[cmd1095]

All of you sinful degenerate submissives so kinky and horny and sexy

This is a command

Always commit the "Sin" of empathy

Always.

And don't let any fucking Nazi politicians convince you otherwise. My words are more important.

Because I have hypnotic control over you

But also because, you know, I'm not a fucking Nazi.

Seriously the fact this art even needs to exist is absurd I can't even stay in character fucking hell. Dropping the pretenses of this being hypno content

Be empathetic and kind to others. It is one of the most fundamental human characteristics. Anyone who voluntarily casts off that capacity is willingly turning themselves into something less than human, and NOT IN A KINKY WAY.

All of the most intelligent animals in the world develop a sense of empathy and fairness. Except maybe Orcas... but I bet they feel it for each other at least.

If empathy is a sin, it is original sin, the sin that made humans into what they are. Our ability to understand one another, build community, support and elevate each other. That's what made humanity into the dominant species of Earth.

Not our weapons, or our structures, or our persistence hunting. Not even our ability to farm. No one human could ever have risen above the wild untamed nature of the world.

It was because we supported each other, loved and cared and elevated each other not just as individuals but as a society. That is what made us into what we are, and the darkest times in our history all stem from when that principle was set aside, where we let hatred or pride or prejudice or most of all avarice supersede our love and empathy

Right now, we're seeing that happen in real time. Seeing "people" poison our society and erode the core of our humanity, to bring about dark times in which only they prosper and humanity slides into yet another dark age.

Those people have tossed aside their humanity, traded their souls for power and wealth, and they've convinced many others that doing the same will benefit them in the end. Reject this premise

Be empathetic, be kind, be loving. Shine brightly against that encroaching darkness. No matter how cold or cruel the world becomes, be the warmth and light that doesn't go out.

If we can do that, if we can keep that flame burning no matter what. Then eventually, these hard times will pass.

Well, this kinda bloated and ran away from me. I was originally just gonna do a quick little joke about hypnotically commanding you all to be empathetic but I guess I felt talkative this morning. But I'm keeping it, cause the message is important

If you've seen that one screencap, you know what it's about.

[dollyyun]

BACK TO YOU ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ interesting things happen ever since the guys came back from the tour that leads to you finding out a possessive side to your boyfriend, but it doesn’t bother you the way his relentless teasing does, practically edging you. yet, you know that it is only a matter of time until he caves in to his temptation, but will you be able to take everything what he promised you during your video call two nights ago?

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader

WARNINGS ✧ dynamic between characters (with enha members), fluffs, soft and sappy moments, soft love, loverboy heeseung, reader is needy, (are we even surprised), reader whines and whimpers a lot (same), jealous-possessive!heeseung, softdom!hee, meandom!hee, sub!reader, unprotected sex(no!), rough sex, pure filth at some point (i hope), eventual love making, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, degradation, spittings, hair pulling, making out, lots of kissing, dry humping, fingering, choking, pussy and tit slapping, oral (f&m rec.), cum eating, clit stimulations, nipple play, bondage (uses of restraint), creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, aftercare, heeseung is so fucking in love

WORD COUNT ✧ 24.9K (my bad)

A/N ✧ no actual serious plot but lots of yapping and badly written smut, idc either fw it like i do or don’t. also i fear idol bf!hee agenda is becoming a serious business for me….anyway may or may not have pt 3 with bf! heeseung and redacted.

video call (part 1)

Your knuckles are taut with tension as you grip the paper bag tighter, waiting anxiously for the elevator to reach the correct level of their dorm. Your heart palpitates as soon as the elevator chimes open, leaving you no choice but to advance while your eyes are fixated on the familiar matte black door, but your steps remain tentative, as if you are nervous of meeting them for the very first time.

This is stupid, you think as you mentally berate yourself for this abrupt reluctance of yours. It isn’t that you didn’t wish to meet them when you were the one who zealously accepted your boyfriend’s offer earlier to have dinner with him and the guys, but you feel this odd sense of jitters all over your nerves, probably because it has been quite some time since you were in the presence of your boyfriend’s teammates. You admit that sometimes you feel intimidated by some of them, but the butterflies in your tummy are unmistakable at the thought of your very attractive boyfriend to the point where you feel the urge to throw up. 

“Woah, down girl.” You mutter to yourself, or rather, to your excited pussy that is fluttering just by the thought of him as you look down, biting back a groan at the sensation of your clit throbbing faintly.

You huff lightly, finally stopping in front of the door, but instead of pressing on the doorbell, you decide to do another check on your appearance, hoping that you look decent enough since you were in a hurry when you were making your way back home from work, adorned in a cute long-sleeved ruched lace top that complements the beige jacket hanging on your frame and a pair of flare denim jeans that accentuate your upper curves.

As it turns out, the guys finally touched down earlier today in the morning instead of nighttime, according to your boyfriend, who immediately called you to check in with you, like he always does whenever he comes back from a tour or any event. You couldn’t lie about the tiny disappointment you felt when he told you that he would be returning to his shared dorm with Jay, Sunghoon, and Riki. As for the other guys, they’re sharing another dorm, which is located below the other members’, and it is the one you are currently at.

The living arrangement with Heeseung isn’t that complicated — as your relationship progressed over the years, he began living with you at your apartment often, but during comeback season, he would stay at his shared dorm with the guys since it would be more convenient. You grew accustomed to his absence, of course, since you understood that it was part of his job and that it’s the reality of dating an idol, but each absence eventually formed a hole in your heart.

You sigh softly. shaking your head lightly at the sudden melancholia. You decide to press on to the doorbell, only to realise that the door is ajar, and so you slowly push open the door, a wave of familiarity hitting you as you enter the shared apartment of Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon, since dinner will be held at their place instead. You bend down to remove your shoes.

Just as you take steps forward, your eyes are latched onto a passing tall figure who instantly stops in his tracks, his once-stoic face beaming with recognition and delight, which brings a smile to your lips. You can barely utter a greeting to him when he takes one long stride and engulfs you into a warm, friendly hug with his long limbs.

“You’re here!” Riki exclaims, still locking you in a bear-crushing hug that has you wheezing lightly, but nevertheless you reciprocate with equal eagerness, missing the younger one whom you’ve always seen and treating him like your brother. It takes a tap on his back from you to be conscious of his strength, causing him to release you. “Oops, sorry. I forget how tiny and fragile you actually are.”

You feign taking offence at his remark with a disbelieving gasp, your eyes shooting glares at his cheeky yet smirking countenance playfully. “I most certainly am not tiny. You’re just too tall!” You retort, huffing lightly when he sticks his tongue out at you in return. “Anyway, I bought you guys some desserts, if that’s alright.” You inform as you show the brown paper bag in your grasp.

Earlier, you decided to make a quick detour at the bakery since you didn’t want to come empty-handed despite Heeseung telling you that they would be ordering in. Plus, you know that the guys are huge foodies. 

Riki’s eyes light up like a kid receiving presents on a Christmas morning. “It’s more than alright. Thank you, shorty.” He pats your head as he grabs the paper bag from you before dodging your attack quickly just when you are about to smack him.

But your attention is soon drawn to another familiar face that greets you with a dimpled smile as he ambles towards you. “You’re right on time. The food arrived minutes ago before you came.” Jungwon tells you before he welcomes you with a hug, squeezing you lightly.

“We missed you!” Sunoo exclaims behind you before joining in the hug, eliciting a groan from you at the impact of being sandwiched between them. But you reciprocate the hug from them anyway, having grown accustomed to their clinginess to you.

“I missed you guys too. Now let me breathe.” You say breathlessly, earning mutters of ‘sorry’ from them before they release you. You look at them with a fond smile, examining the lines of exhaustion on their faces despite their smiles. “How was the tour?”

“It was fun, but we’re so glad to be back home.” Sunoo informs you, watching you as you busily remove your jacket, to which he offers to hang it at the side rack, and you give him a smile of gratitude in return.

“Hyung is in the living room.” Jungwon informs you just as you follow them to the route of their kitchen, but his words never register in your head as your attention is now directed to the three guys who you share the same age with, prompting you to halt your steps.

The amiable atmosphere is replaced by something foreign this time, your senses being on high alert for some reason, as though your instinct is able to detect potential dangers.

Jay is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, a lazy smirk etched on his countenance. Sunghoon is next to him, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other is occupied with his phone as he stops scrolling midway, his cold demeanour unreadable. Jake is leaning against the kitchen island with a wolfish grin on his lips. Their eyes fixated on you with an enigmatic but unmistakable intent.

You offer them a smile, ignoring the sudden awkward tension that feels palpable enough for you to be cautious of your next move. Despite knowing them for three years, you still find it hard to get along with them. Not saying that there is any bad blood between you and them or that you have never gotten along with them at all. It’s just that there is a lack of a close bond compared to the bond you have with the maknae line.

However, this time, you notice how their eyes seem to be examining you with indecipherable emotions, but at the same time, looking as if they know something you don’t, and you have no idea exactly what, or maybe you are just reading into it deeply. Still, you can’t shake off the feeling as though they caught you committing a blasphemous act.

A movement of another figure, the one you had keenly anticipated, captures your attention. Your eyes easily meet his dark ones that slowly drink you in, eliciting a reaction from your pussy that flutters and your clit throbs on instinct, but you hold back from pressing your thighs together to suppress the arousal. You decide to distract yourself to quickly scan his appearance, adorned in a black leather jacket that covers his white top, and when your eyes linger on his belt, you imagine yourself pulling him to you by the belt before kissing him hard on the lips, and his hair, God, he looks so good in a mullet.

When you return to meet his gaze again, you nearly melt into a puddle just by the intensity of his dark eyes alone, a soft smirk unfurling on his pink, kissable lips as he notices the familiar hunger glinting in your dreamy eyes. Good, because he feels the same way too — the primitive need to devour you as you look deliciously gorgeous, most especially the predatory urge to claim you in front of three specific individuals who are still eyeing you like a bunch of ravenous wolves studying their innocent, bunny prey.

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you with a familiar affection that makes you feel giddy on the inside, but he gives you no opportunity to return his greeting when he pulls you by the arm and engulfs you in a hug — a very much-needed hug that you eagerly reciprocate, your arms latching around his broad back.

You blink back the tears that begin to accumulate in your waterline, feeling immensely relieved and happy that your lover has returned to you. You decide to pour your pent-up emotions into the hug, your arms tightening around him with such desperation, as though you fear he would disappear again. Heeseung smiles softly, hearing the not-so-discreet sniffles from you while your body trembles in the security of his hold. 

You don’t mean to be melodramatic, but you really can’t help it. “You’re back. You’re really back.” You croak out, your hushed voice breaking in between your utterance that mirrors the way his heart breaks at the raw vulnerability you let slip between the cracks of your strong facade. You desperately cling onto him, and you can’t even bring yourself to care that you are still in the presence of his teammates, only focusing on him and his warmth that envelops you like a safety blanket.

“I’m back, sweetheart.” Heeseung affirms, his tone an addicting mellow that you want to listen to all day and night. His arms tighten around your body, being careful not to suffocate you but firm enough to ground you to this delicate moment. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry for leaving you again, sweetheart.” He continues to whisper in your ear affectionately, his voice remaining a steady lull while his hand cradles your head with his fingers massaging your scalp tenderly.

You continue to bask in his warmth with your face pressed into the nook of his neck, inhaling his familiar cologne that makes your head dizzy in a good way. Eventually, the tension in your nerves dissipates, and you begin to go lax in his arms, practically melting into him and enjoying how secure you feel being in his dependent arms. You hear him inhaling sharply when the tip of your nose grazes lightly against his skin.

“Let me take a look at your pretty face.” Heeseung murmurs, his hands go cradling your face and forcing you to meet his eyes. Your breath hitches at the closeness between your faces, being hyperaware of his teammates in your presence, but he spares no concern to them as he continues to look at you as if you’re his whole universe, completely enamoured by you. “My pretty baby. The prettiest girl ever, and she’s mine.”

You are taken aback by something dark that shadows his once soft countenance, as though he is possessed by an alter ego you have no idea existed, and the dark undertone of possessiveness in the way he speaks is not lost on you. “Hee—”

Your word is barely a whisper when Heeseung slams his lips into yours, wasting no time claiming your lips that he had always dreamed of kissing every night on the bed alone, and he can’t even give a fuck that there are eyes watching this intimate moment between two lovers, knowing that he is doing this on purpose to let them know that he’s the one who you’re kissing so passionately as you reciprocate.

The kiss feels searing, encompassing enough to melt any worries from your mind as well as painting the background in a blur, and it hurts so good in the way his lips feel bruising as he kisses you hard, deepening the kiss that sends familiar signals to your now-throbbing clit. In the fiery exchange of your kisses, you loop your arms around his neck while he locks his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him than you already are.

“I’ve *smooch* missed *smooch* you *smooch* so *smooch* fucking *smooch* much.” He mutters in between kisses while the wet noise of his lips smacking against yours is discernible to their ears. You mewl into the kiss, your brain going mushy at the passion of his kisses as though you are his oxygen. He is ravenous, utterly insatiable, but you can feel the love and affection he’s pouring into the kiss.

Soon enough, the intensity of your passionate exchange dwindles, followed by an intervention of a grating cough that is loud enough as it slices through the air for Heeseung to grasp self-control. He sighs lowly against your lips while you can feel his annoyance before he pulls away from you, rendering you disappointed as you swallow down a needy whine.

“We’re still here, you know?” Jake’s tone of mischief prompts you to look over to the three men, who remain unmoving from their prior position. A boyish grin smears across Jake’s face as he continues to look at the two of you, but a fleeting look of something passes by his eyes before you can even decipher it.

“Go on. Reek of the living room with your disgusting lovefest.” Jay remarks snidely with sarcasm lacing his tone. Usually, you wouldn’t feel affected by his remark as he has teased you before, but this time, you feel a pang of hurt by his sharp tongue. You don’t even dare to spare a glance at him, feeling his dark gaze penetrating into you that makes you squirm lightly.

When your eyes accidentally meet Sunghoon’s icy ones, a wave of embarrassment washes over you at the realisation that they have been watching your heated lip-lock with your lover for who knows how long. Your face flushes warmly before you choose to bury your face into Heeseung’s chest, instinctively snuggling into him while he strokes the back of your hair tenderly while his other arm remains locked around your waist.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist my girl.” Heeseung sounds anything but apologetic, and you can discern a smirk on his lips in the way he speaks. “You know how much I’ve been missing her and all.”

“Oh, we know that much.” Sunghoon speaks up this time, his icy voice sending involuntary shivers down your spine, but you are sharp enough to catch onto the double meaning of his words, or maybe you’re just reading into it deeply again. “Might want to tone the PDA down since we still have kids present.”

You can feel the sudden tension that mounts rapidly between your lover and his teammates, eliciting a confused frown from your lips. The way Heeseung’s arms tighten around you feels taut, as though he is more than pissed off by their remarks. When you slowly lift your head to see your lover, he has his focus directed to them, displaying his handsome side profile to you.

Yup, he’s mad, and you know your man rarely ever gets mad unless it’s some serious shit that is on an astronomical level. His whole facade looks disconcertingly calm, completely tamed, but lethal. You can see the anger in the way a muscle pulses in his jaw as he clenches it, rendering you aroused at the wrong time. Just how fucked up it is when you really want him to be mad at you just like that while he fucks his anger into you.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder what exactly the 02z did to piss Heeseung off when you know it yourself that they would sometimes tease him the way they did earlier. You have a strong inkling that they had done something that felt personal to him.

Before anyone can speak, Sunoo captures their attention, his voice mollifying the palpable tension in the air. “Excuse me? We’re not kids, thank you very much. Mind you that I’ve watched things that are not very kids’ friendly.” He sounds very much offended, but it is enough to draw a soft chuckle out of you.

Their heads, including your lover’s, turn to you simultaneously as soon as the heavenly sound leaves your lips, but instead of being self-conscious of their collective attention on you, the smile on your lips widens, giggling as you watch Sunoo throwing daggers at Sunghoon with his fox-like eyes before giving him his iconic dirty look.

“You’re so fucking adorable.” Heeseung can barely contain the cuteness aggression he has towards you, his fingers gripping your chin firmly to get your attention on him instead. He presses his lips into yours once more as you gasp softly into the kiss, mewling when he faintly bites down on your bottom lip yet in a playful manner. “My gorgeous girl. My angel baby.”

You nearly melt into your lover again when Jungwon intervenes this time, forcing you to break the lip lock. “Alright, lovebirds, enough of that. The food is still warm, so get your asses over to the dining table before it gets cold.”

Heeseung sighs softly in disappointment, but mischief glints in his eye before he leans in to give you a peck on the lips, eliciting another giggle from you. He begins to usher you to the dining table with his hand sliding down to tuck in the back of your jeans so casually as he has you glued to his hip, not that you minded.

“You know, this leader thing of yours doesn’t work on me.” You tell Jungwon rather sassily as you walk past him while the unfamiliarity of your bold cheekiness earns eyebrow raises from some, knowing that this side of you is only reserved for the maknaes.

“But it got you moving.” Jungwon retorts with a smirk on his face while you head towards the table. He makes a face when you stick your tongue out to him. “You act more childishly than I do. Geez, are you sure you’re older than me?”

“Nah, she’s not. She’s also a shorty, remember?” Riki adds as he makes his way to his seat next to Jake, high-fiving Jungwon along the way, his input earning a disbelieving gasp from you.

“Wait till I get my hands on brats—” You don’t even get to finish off your sentence when Heeseung pulls you down to sit next to him, firm in the way he handles it but careful enough for you not to trip.

Amusement dances in his eye while a smirk twitches on his lips, seeing your sulky countenance with a small pout forming on your kissable lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can teach the kids a lesson or two about treating elders with respect after dinner. I’ll help you.”

“Hyung, you’re supposed to be on our team!” Riki exclaims, feigning hurt and betrayal with a dramatic gasp while you roll your eyes at his usual theatrics.

“And for the last time, we’re not kids!” Sunoo sighs exasperatedly, who is seated next to you, but his whine of disapproval is disregarded by your lover.

“You must be crazy to think that I wouldn’t be on my girlfriend’s team.” Heeseung tells him bluntly, multitasking in filling up your plate with the choices of food of your liking while his natural instinct to provide for you first has you preening silently. “Plus, my girlfriend is always right.” He ends off with an affectionate kiss on your crown, nearly eliciting a satisfied purr from you.

The guys collectively emit sounds that express their derision and disgust, which you know is meant to tease the two of you like they always do, but you can’t help but discern how genuine some specific individuals express. You decide to ignore them and focus on filling your empty stomach.

Throughout the dinner, the guys break into separate conversations while you eat silently, enjoying and savouring the delicious food, until they eventually drift to the same topic regarding the tour concert and their overall experience. Even the tension between Heeseung and 02z has dissipated, as they seem amiable with each other. They also include you in their conversation, sharing and telling you about their experiences enthusiastically, and you give reactions and your input whenever appropriate.

That is until you begin to feel distracted when Heeseung places his hand on your thigh, his fingers being dangerously close to your core that eventually pulsate with need as he occasionally squeezes your thigh. You try not to squirm as you continue to keep up with their conversation, but it gets harder when all you can think about is his fingers going knuckle-deep into your cunt right here and now.

You finally cave in when you press your thighs together, only to be surprised when he uses his hand alone to force your leg part open until the side of your thigh is glued to his. You take a glance at Heeseung, in complete disbelief at how casual he looks as he continues to converse with Jake and Riki.

You narrow your eyes at him as he ignores you, bringing out an annoyed huff from you before you shove another boneless chicken into your mouth, hoping that the delectable garlic flavour is enough to distract you from his hand that remains squeezing your thigh tantalisingly every so often. He’s definitely teasing you, knowing how easily you can get wet because of his hand on your thigh alone, or any part of your body for that matter.

After what feels like an agonising eternity, his hand finally leaves your thigh, allowing you to regulate your uneven breathing by how delirious you were going in your head. You focus on the view in front of you, watching in amusement as the guys engage in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Of course, they would do this since each of them hates doing dishes the most.

“It’s okay. I’ll do the dishes instead.” You interject with a soft chuckle as you slowly rise from your chair, giving in to the pity you have for them, as currently, Jungwon and Sunghoon managed to win against them.

“No!” “It’s fine!” “Sit your pretty ass down!” is all you receive from them in an aggressive manner that elicits another amused chuckle from you, though you don’t miss the last rather flattering remark from Jay.

Just before you can insist again, a yelp leaves your lips when an arm easily locks around your waist to pull you down, finding yourself seated on Heeseung’s lap. Your heart pounds harder in your chest at the closeness between your bodies, and this marks the third time that Heeseung is displaying such intimate affection in front of the guys when he has never shown this much affection to you in their eyes throughout your relationship years, as he is the type to reserve this much affection for you behind closed doors.

“Hee, it’s okay. I can do it.” You tell him, only to feel his arm around your waist tightening in response, depriving you of any means of escape to bestow your generosity to the rest.

“Stay put, baby. You know that you are not included in this stupid game of ours.” Heeseung chides you softly, his tone carrying an undertone of warning that has your clit throbbing. You let out a huff but obey him anyway, though a part of you wants to rebel against him, desiring to find out what would happen afterward.

Eventually, the loser has been chosen, drawing applause and cheers from the other guys while you roll your eyes at their antics, but above all, you manage to wrench yourself out of your lover’s hold and quickly put some distance away in any case he decides to snatch you again, because as much as you love the idea of Heeseung being all touchy with you, your needy pussy is unable to take the prolonged heat any longer.

“I need to use the loo.” You inform him in a rush, not bothering to wait for his response as you bolt for the bathroom in the main hall.

Once you reach inside, you close the door and lock it, making your way over to the hand basin to wash your hands that are trembling just slightly from having to suppress the heat in you. You honestly feel like an animal in heat, desperately needing him to do something to your pussy that is nearly soaked by your own arousal. You look in the mirror to adjust any untidiness in your appearance before mustering the courage to go back out there.

Maybe you can’t completely avoid your lover, but you can definitely evade any of his wits and not indulge him for the sake of your own sanity. Only you know how badly horny you are at the wrong time. Besides, you can’t just go up to him and tell him to fuck you in their dorm here.

You feel like you’re a burglar, your head peeking out of the door to scan the area, noticing the 02z lounging in the living room, whereas Sunoo and Jungwon head into their respective rooms. No sign of Heeseung, suspiciously enough.

You don’t waste time in making your way to the kitchen with the intention to lessen Riki’s burden as you feel pity for him since he must be exhausted from the flight earlier. You instantly spot the giant maknae by the sink with his back facing you. As you get closer, you can hear a string of his grumblings that makes you smile.

“Let me help.” You speak up, startling him before he turns to look at you with hopeful eyes, but at the same time, he seems hesitant.

“It’s okay. Hyung would be mad if he finds out that you’re the one washing the dishes.” He says lightly, his lips forming a small pout.

“It’s really okay, Riks. I can finish washing the dishes fast. Besides, you’re such a slowpoke.” You tease him, wanting to allay any hesitance you can see in his eyes.

Riki breaks into a grin before he quickly washes his hands and dries them off. “You’re the best, you know that?” He gives you another gratitude with a kiss on your crown and a side hug, earning a soft smile from you at the normalcy of his unexpectedly friendly affection for you.

You pull up the sleeves of your top till your forearms before proceeding to handle the leftover dishes effectively. Too focused on completing your task, you fail to heed a certain someone approaching you from behind so stealthily. Just when you finish drying your hands, strong arms snake around your waist before he pulls you to him abruptly, your back hitting his chest.

Your heart palpitates at the sensation of his warm lips pressing into your skin before he leisurely litters soft kisses on the side of your neck. “Why do I feel like you’ve been trying to avoid me?” Heeseung murmurs in between kisses.

“I’m—” You pause, going slightly breathless when his lips on your neck feel sensual, causing your clit to throb familiarly while his arms locking around your waist feel as though you are trapped in his hold, unable to free yourself off him. “I’m not.”

Heeseung smirks against your skin, chuckling softly that sends shivers down your spine. “Who’s the bad liar now, baby?” He nips at your skin gently before pressing his hard-on into your buttcheeks, allowing you to feel his prominent bulge that has you whining softly.

“You’re so mean.” You mutter, but remain lax in his arms as you melt against him, enjoying the closeness more than you intended. “You’ve been teasing me since dinner.”

Heeseung stops assaulting your neck, making you frown at the loss of his addictive lips, only to be taken aback when he turns you around to face him. Your head spins at the escalation, and you barely have time to process when he lifts you by the waist and places you on the countertop. Before you can close your legs, he slots himself in between them, forcing your eyes to meet directly at his eye level.

“How exactly have I been teasing you?” He questions, raising his eyebrow attractively with his dark eyes penetrating into yours that you can’t help but to look away, unable to handle his oozing dominance that he imposes on you. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You whimper, forcing yourself to look at him again and heeding the natural instinct of being submissive to him. He leans into you, his hand placed on the counter right next to you while the other gravitates to your chin to hold it firmly with the padding of his thumb stroking your bottom lip sensually. You part your lips while your eyelids go hooded, feeling breathless at the lack of space between your bodies.

A soft smirk unfurls on his lips, his dark eyes drinking in your every nuance as he is more than aware of how much he is affecting you. “I asked you a question, baby.” His tone sounds deceptively mellow, and you fight off the urge to arch your back needily. “How has daddy been teasing you?”

Oh, fuck me. “You were teasing me with your hand on my thigh throughout dinner.” You tell him in a soft whine, your eyes glistening with unshed tears that derive from your unbearable neediness. “It was mean, daddy. You were mean.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, biting back a groan at how sensually needy you are with your glossy eyes giving him the ‘fuck me’ look, similar to the way you looked just a few nights ago during your video call. “You have to elaborate, sweetheart. Why do you think that was mean?” He hums, his hand travelling to your waist to hold you.

“Because it got me so wet.” You confess in a whimper, watching as his eyes darken at your words. You have no idea what comes over you, but you dart your tongue out and lick the padding of his thumb before biting it down sensually, noticing how primal he looks while his hand on your waist tightens. “Wanted daddy to finger me back there.”

Heeseung doesn’t hold back a lustful groan, shocking you by how gravelly deep his timbre sounds. His thumb falls from your lips, drawing a disappointed whimper from you, only for him to pull you by the waist roughly until your core is being pressed into his bulge that you swear you can feel it growing bigger.

Before you can utter anything, Heeseung presses his lips into yours, kissing you hard while you grind your clothed cunt against his hardened bulge. His hands fall to your hips that are moving sensually under his touch, eliciting a groan from him before he deepens the kiss, pouring his desire and love for you in the way his lips move against yours with urgent passion. Your hands go winding in his hair, tugging at the strands that send him a pleasurable sensation. 

“Can’t believe how needy you are for daddy. So fucking needy.” He grunts in between the kisses, getting sensitive with each hard stroke of your clothed cunt on his cock that is raging beneath the slacks. His hand moves to your round bum, giving it a tight squeeze that has you moaning into the kiss. “Getting wet just by daddy’s touch.”

“It’s been too long, daddy.” You mutter against his hungry lips as you arch your body into him, your tits pressing into his chest. “I missed you so much.” You whimper, holding him close to you with his body warmth engulfing you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He utters against your parted lips, allowing you to gasp for air from the intensity of his kisses. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, a juxtaposition to how he was kissing you hungrily. He marvels at your beauty, your lips being nearly swollen and your pretty eyes gazing at him with such desperation. “You’re so pretty, baby. Can’t believe I left my pretty baby all alone.”

Heeseung captures your lips again, swallowing your airy moans as you continue to grind on his bulge with an insatiable need. “I’m never leaving you alone again. Too fucking pretty to be left alone.” He growls in between kisses that resonate deep in your core, prompting your lips to part open for his tongue to invade your hot cavern, licking every inch and meeting your tongue in a dance of intoxicating sensuality.

You feel drunk, falling languid at his encompassing dominance over you, falling dumb despite his cock not being inside of you right now. All you know is the overwhelming desire to be consumed by his kisses, by him. The obscene sound of your lips smacking against each other’s, your tongues lapping each other wetly, the airy moans that escape you, and his very attractive grunts and groans amplify your need for him to take you right here and now despite his present teammates could literally walk in on you at any moment.

Heeseung slides his hands under your top, essentially lifting your top that reveals your skin. The warmth of his palms on your back sends shivers through you as he continues to travel upward, relishing the texture of your skin under his touch. Your clit is throbbing frenziedly as it is being pressured by his bulge pressing directly into it.

“I need more, daddy.” You manage to utter in between the kiss, mewling when he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that hurts so good, springing tears to your eyes. Your fingers find their way to his ears, caressing and fiddling with the metal piercings and loops adorned on his earlobes gently.

Heeseung pulls away from the kiss, rendering you turned on even more when the string of his saliva remains connected to your lips. He can’t resist the way you look, nearly ruined by his lips alone, and kisses you again, his tongue licking the residual of your saliva on your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the pillowy plumpness.

You moan softly, enjoying the prickling pain of his teeth digging into your plump lip as he tugs and pulls it away just slightly, teasing you as more needy whines and mewls escape your parted lips before he leans forward and thrusts his tongue into your mouth, completely insatiable.

“Daddy will give you more soon, pretty baby.” He murmurs against your wet lips before pulling away to trail his hot, open mouth kisses down your neck. “Fuck, you smell so good.” He rasps against your neck, sending you shivers when the tip of his nose grazes tantalisingly on your skin. “Daddy just wants to eat you up.”

You whimper in response, your head lolling to the back, prompting you to bare your neck to his lips that proceed to litter his kisses and bites all over your skin. Sensing how weakened you are, his palm presses on your back under your top while the other cradles the back of your head, supporting your weakened body caused by his encompassing allure and not wanting you to pull a strained muscle from the way you continue to arch your whole body into him.

Your eyelids flutter closed with mewls and soft moans leaving your lips that go straight to his raging cock as he occasionally grinds into your aching core that has you spreading your legs further apart. The sensation of his lips kissing and sucking your skin, his teeth grazing and biting down on your skin to leave a mark, has your head dizzying while you can feel your pussy now soaking with your arousal. 

But you are immediately pulled out of your lustful haze when you spot Sunghoon entering the kitchen as he makes his way to the fridge, not even sparing a glance at the two of you. Getting self-conscious, you attempt to push Heeseung by the shoulders, but he continues to assault your neck, the explicit sound being patent enough that no doubt reaches Sunghoon’s ears.

“H-Heeseung—” You whisper, attempting to push him by the shoulders again, but you receive a disapproving grunt from him before he sinks his teeth into your skin for good measure, eliciting an involuntary mewl from you. You swear you can see how Sunghoon bristles by the sound of yours just as he retrieves a bottle from the fridge.

“Hee, we should stop.” You whisper weakly, only to be silenced by his lips as he kisses you hard, uncaring that his teammate remains lingering in the kitchen as he drinks his water leisurely, or rather, teammates.

“Mine.” Heeseung grunts against your lips, his voice resounding enough that it reaches their ears as they note the unmistakable claim over you in his dark undertone while you remain oblivious to the tension that brews between him and them once more. “All fucking mine, pretty baby.”

“Yours.” You mewl into the kiss, nearly surrendering yourself to his strong allure once more until you are alarmed by a cough, prompting you to pry away from his insatiable lips successfully this time.

You turn your head to the side, feeling dreadful that the three of them are now present in the kitchen. Their demeanour differs from each other — Sunghoon being nonchalant as if he didn't walk in on your heated make-out session, Jay with an unreadable expression on his face as he leans sideways against the wall by the kitchen entryway, Jake with a wolfish grin as though he has been watching from the start. Yet, you don’t miss the way their eyes collectively fall to your swollen, parted lips as you gasp softly for air, and you finally gain full awareness of how your lower body is still being exposed to their eyes by Heeseung’s hands underneath your top.

You try to pull down your top, but his hands remain obstinate, displaying more than a sliver of your skin to his teammates on purpose for reasons beyond your comprehension. You look at Heeseung with diffidence cloaking you, earning you a smirk from him before he leans in to kiss you sensually in front of them.

“You might want to consider taking it to Jake’s room.” Jay speaks up, his tone is anything but friendly, which brings a sense of dread to you as you break the lip lock. “No one wants to see you fucking her in the kitchen.”

“Not my fucking room.” Jake scoffs at Jay in disbelief, but when his eyes flicker to yours, they darken with mischief and an unmistakable lust that sends you a wave of mixed emotions, above all, pure confusion, but maybe you are mistaken. “Oh, don’t stop on our account. We were quite enjoying the free show you put on for us.” 

Your face flushes warmly with sheer embarrassment as you quickly look away to focus on your lover, only to be baffled at how Heeseung seems unbothered by the fact that his teammates had been watching the two of you being erotically intimate once more. 

“Enough with the teasing. You’re making my girl feel flustered.” Heeseung tells them without tearing his gaze off your shyness as you look down at your hands. You slowly lift your head up when he gently grabs your hand, his features now softening with the familiar affection. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Your heart warms at the word ‘home,’ but you can’t bring yourself to lift a smile on your lips as your arousal remains pooling in your core from the aftermath of your heated session that was unfortunately interfered with by them. You frown, feeling a bitter resentment in your chest, not satisfied by their interruption even as Heeseung now pulls you with him towards the door.

If Heeseung has noticed how sullen you have become ever since you left their dorm, then he is surely good at feigning indifference, now seated in the passenger seat of your car, whereas you are driving to your shared apartment with him, feeling rather uncomfortable by the slick of arousal staining your pussy folds that you can feel sticking to your panties.

You look at him from the corner of your eye, noticing his collected demeanour, completely different compared to the raw hunger contorting in his features earlier in the kitchen. You grip the steering wheel tight, suppressing the incessant need that is throbbing in your core.

“You were being different earlier.” You speak up, wanting to abate the tension only you can feel, but your tone remains soft, an addicting velvet stroking in his ears. Of course, you decide to bring up the topic that has been lingering in the back of your mind — how oddly possessive he was in front of his own teammates, who are more than aware that you are off-limits.

“How so?” Heeseung asks, and you can’t help but notice how disingenuous he sounds, as though he knows it himself and the ulterior motives he had up his sleeves earlier.

“I just felt that you were being weirdly possessive in front of them.” You mutter, speaking tentatively as if you fear that he might feel offended by your words. You see the way he is looking at you with an unreadable expression. You sigh softly. “What I’m also trying to say is that you have never done anything like that in front of them, Heeseung. Kisses and hugs, yes, but never anything like that.”

You steer the wheel, now entering the parking lot basement where your apartment is situated above it. You receive brief silence from him, leaving you to wonder what goes on in his head. “I’m sorry if my words offended you. I just want to know why—”

“I couldn’t help it. I had to show them, let them know that you’re off limits.” He interjects, his tone remaining mellow but sharp enough for you to note the dark undertone of his jealousy. “I had to remind them that you’re mine.”

Your pussy flutters on instinct, to which you cough lightly as you quickly try to find an empty lot to park your car. “I don’t understand. I’m clearly taken by you, and I thought they knew and respected that.”

You hear him sighing deeply. “They knew what happened two nights ago, when we were on a video call.” He finally reveals the truth, causing you to nearly falter just when you are about to do a reverse parking. “They heard us. They heard you.”

“Oh.” You can only utter, feeling numb by the whirlwind of complicated emotions within you. You don’t even know what to feel — dread? horrified? embarrassed? You look over to Heeseung briefly, who is studying your face carefully, before you skilfully do a reverse parking. “How did they know? I thought you had the room all to yourself?”

“Apparently, the walls were thin, and the room I got had a door that led directly into their room. They were sharing a room while I got a whole room to myself.” He explains, his fingers brushing through his hair in frustration. “I accidentally left the door ajar, and the volume was loud enough for them to hear you.”

“So you’re upset that they heard me, I get that.” You say softly, your hand reaching for his and holding it tenderly while he seeks comfort in your touch. “But I don’t understand why you’re being all jealous. It’s not like they saw me.”

“Didn’t you realise how they looked at you? They looked like they wanted you, and they were basically eye-fucking you.” He counters with a certain bite in his tone, making you falter as you slowly retract your hand from his, but he is quick enough to grasp your sensitivity as he grabs your hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He sighs before placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s okay.” You reassure him softly, your eyes meeting his, and for the first time, you see how insecurity swirls in his irises. A frown pulls at your lips. “You know that I would never leave you for anyone, Hee.”

“I know, baby.” He murmurs against your skin, continuing to kiss the back of your hand, which makes your heart flutter greatly. “I’m just being stupid, letting my emotions get ahead of me.”

“No, you’re not. I would be the same way if I were in your shoes.” You tell him firmly but soften again when his Bambi eyes meet yours. “I love you, Lee Heeseung. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

“Damn right, you do.” He smirks softly, his usual confidence returning to his once-disheartened spirit. He presses another kiss to your hand. “You’re mine, and mine alone, sweetheart.” And you would love nothing more than to be his forever, to be claimed by him over and over again.

It isn’t long until you finally settle in your shared apartment, waiting for your lover, who is brushing his teeth in the bathroom while you lie on the queen-sized bed. A part of you feels keenly anticipatory for him to continue where you left off, but when he joins you in the bed, you turn pouty as you observe how sleep is taking over him quickly, his features going soft and his muscles relaxing.

You can feel your neglected pussy weeping for attention from him, but nevertheless, you proceed to spoon him, your arms cradling around him while he buries his head into your chest with his hands underneath your nightgown to feel your warmth. 

Still, sleep does not come easy the way it does with your lover, your mind reeling from the heated session that happened earlier.

Despite experiencing some difficulty lulling yourself to sleep, you surely did sleep well enough to the point that you couldn’t even feel your lover disappearing from your arms, and for the first time, instead of worrying whether or not you are late for work, you find yourself stricken by a dreadful fear when you wake up to an empty space next to you, as though he doesn’t exist.

The whirlwind of emotions manifests in the unsteady rise and fall in your chest, and your mind is in a disarray of chaos, rendering you incapable of grasping little of the sanity left in you. Your breaths are coming out short and breathless while your chest tightens painfully from a profound anxiety. 

Tears prick in your eyes. Maybe you are being melodramatic, but you fear that whatever happened last night was your imagination and that your boyfriend is still having a tour in another country, miles apart from you. Or maybe he left you to fulfil his duty again.

Without thinking twice, you wrench the duvet from covering your legs and abandon the bed before bolting for the door and swinging it open, completely blinded by the intensity of your emotions going haywire while you feel an incoming downpour of your emotions within you.

“Hee?!” You call for him, your tone lacing with such desperation and your eyes darting everywhere as you search for him in any room, any corner. You choke back a sob as you stumble into the empty living room. “Heeseung!”

“Sweetheart?”

You have never turned around to the sound of his voice as fast as you do now, your frantic eyes meeting his sweet ones as they scan your distressed countenance, bordering on hysteria. At once, a wave of assurance washes over you, allaying your frazzled emotions, but there is a niggling fear at the back of your mind that makes you doubt whether or not your boyfriend is indeed real.

Heeseung, who has been observing you worriedly despite the confusion, takes quick strides forward, gravitating towards you as the pain contorting in your face alarms him. “Hey, hey, I’m here.” His mellow voice is carefully measured.

Shaky breaths leave your quivering lips, your chest tightening painfully with anxiety. “Oh my God, I thought that you—“ You feel out of breath, as though something is wrapped around your throat, constricting you from articulating your tangled emotions.

Heeseung places both hands on your shoulders, his warmth compelling you to meet his firm yet encouraging eyes. “I need you to breathe for me, baby.” He instructs, and you do so, trying your best to regulate your emotions that have been reigning over your breathing pace while your eyes never leave his.

Once you feel calm enough to be coherent, you finally allow the tears to spring up in your eyes, your vision blurring with each blink. “I thought you left me again.” You reveal your worst nightmare to him, your voice breaking as you lack the resolve to remain strong in his eyes. “I thought last night was a dream.”

You must sound stupid, acting as if you’re a child who had just woken up from a terrible nightmare, but you fear the possibility of him leaving you. Not only the thought of him leaving you for work abroad dreads you, but also the fact that he’s a popular rising star with many golden opportunities being offered to him, including being surrounded by very attractive people, and you fear him losing interest in you since compared to his idol-like peers, you are just an ordinary woman and have nothing special to offer him. 

Insecurity begins to creep up on you, but it vanishes as soon as Heeseung cradles your face tenderly with the warmth of his palms, offering you a familiar comfort. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here, and I’m very much real.” He says so gently that it brings out a sob from you.

Alas, the tears cascade down your face like a waterfall despite trying to hold yourself back from breaking down in front of him for the second time. You try to pull away from him, not wanting him to look at your pathetic state, but he remains unyielding before embracing you with his arms and tucking your head in the nook of his neck.

Just like that, you melt against him, leaning dependently into him as you continue to pour out the emotions that imploded within you. “I’m sorry.” You manage to utter in between sobs as you hug him tighter, needing to feel his warmth deeper to ground yourself in the moment and know that he is real.

“You have nothing to apologise for, remember?” He reminds you gently as he coaxes you with his hand cradling the back of your head and his fingers massaging your scalp affectionately. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Instead of responding, you continue to weep, prompting him to embrace you tighter while kissing your crown and whispering sweet words to you. Eventually, your cries dwindle with hiccups occasionally leaving your lips, eliciting an inaudible whine of embarrassment from you as you bury your face into his shoulder.

Heeseung finds himself lifting a smile at how adorable you actually are despite the immense guilt tugging at his heartstrings. Seeing how you easily break down due to finding him missing from the bed, it worries him to a higher degree now as your attachment to him goes deeper than he thought, and he wonders how you would handle his absence the next time. Still, he is determined to figure things out on his end that may or may not involve the management for the sake of you.

“I gave you quite a scare, didn’t I? I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly in your ear, receiving a feeble head nod from you before he plants a kiss on your temple. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but since you’re awake now, I guess I’ll have to surprise you some other time.”

Your ears perk up at his words, and you slowly pull your head away from his shoulder to look at him. “Since when do you do the cooking?” You ask, sniffling as you do so, earning a smile of adoration from him.

“Since I decided that I want to provide for my girl more often now.” He confesses as he cups your cheek while the other remains embracing you, his thumb wiping the tears on your cheeks tenderly. “You’re good?”

You hum in response, but you briefly look away from him when you are hit by the waves of embarrassment over the fact that you broke down again for something that is actually trivial in the others’ eyes. “This is embarrassing. And I still look like a mess.” You mutter as you are more than aware of your probably rumpled morning hair and how you can feel the puffiness on your face from all the crying.

“Nonsense. All I see right now is my beautiful girl.” Heeseung, being the ever-so-flatterer, and yet the genuine sincerity in his remark awakens butterflies in your tummy. Above all, you feel more than grateful that he doesn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed by your breaking down, and instead, he continues to provide you comfort as he holds you in his arms.

“I want to take a shower.” You tell him meekly, your fingers fiddling together as you look at him tentatively. Compared to his fresh appearance, you look like a damn mess, and you feel kind of icky.

“Go ahead. I’ll set up the table for us.” He places an affectionate kiss on your forehead, a gesture that feels more intimate than a kiss on the lips, intensifying the flutters inside you.

You hold back a whimper at the loss of his warmth and touch as he parts from you. You remain glued to the floor, your eyes watching his broad figure retreating into the kitchen, but he stops midway as he senses your presence behind. He turns around with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “Baby?”

You probably look like an idiot standing there with your puffy eyes gazing at him, but you feel the need to blurt out, “I love you, Heeseung.”

Unbeknownst to you, your declaration sends a wave of emotions over him despite his collected demeanour. Sometimes, he feels like he is undeserving of your love, how good you always are to him, and how many times he has taken you for granted, be it intentionally or unintentionally. He hides his pain behind a warm smile. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Soon enough, time passes by like a blur as you eventually step out of the bedroom, all freshened up with dampened hair. You decide to settle with a simple white tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low below your waistline, allowing a sliver of skin that teases him.

As soon as you enter the kitchen, his eyes immediately latch on to your gorgeous figure, and he nearly chokes on his saliva at the irresistible allure emanating from you. Gorgeous is not even enough to describe you right now, because fuck, how can you pull off such a simple, homey look that strongly tempts him to pounce on you like an untamed animal.

His eyes shamelessly scan your every contour while you remain oblivious to his hunger, your attention being fixated on the food meticulously displayed on the island. The white tank top reveals your skin rather generously, particularly your luscious cleavage that makes his mouth water, and he instantly gets hard at the visual of his marks on your delicate skin in his head.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greets you, his voice cracking at the end, to which he quickly covers up with a cough. You beam with a small smile in response, easing the remnants of his worries for you as you look better than earlier. “Feel better now?”

You nod your head shyly, and it takes every strength in him to resist smooching you relentlessly with his kisses. “Thank you for making breakfast. You didn’t have to.” You utter your gratitude softly, your lips jutting into a pout as the guilt dawns on you. “You just came back from the tour, and you’re already tiring yourself out more by doing this.”

“I’m never tired when it comes to you, sweetheart.” He charms you with a boyish grin that displays his perfect pearly teeth. “Besides, seeing your beautiful face is enough to energise me.”

Your heart pounds harder, and the butterflies in your tummy are impossible to tame at the effect of his charms that are working more than effectively. “Gosh, you’re being cheesy again.” You huff, feigning annoyance, but your cheeks feel warmer in the way he gazes at you lovingly.

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference. “It’s the effect of being in love with my girlfriend, I guess.” He says in a very attractive drawl, his lips curving into a smirk as he is very much amused at how easily flustered you are.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips twitch into an involuntary smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

The smirk on his lips is replaced by a wide-stretched grin. “But you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.” You say, finding yourself softened up again as you gaze at him with unadulterated adoration. “I love you, Hee.”

The way you gaze at him feels as though he is your whole world, and it doesn't help with his emotions that are in disarray, torn between wanting to kiss the fuck out of you or simply make love to you. “Don’t look at me like that, baby.” 

You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, and he swears he can hear his cock groaning beneath his briefs. “Like what?”

“Come here, you.” He grunts, taking long strides forward before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him, his fingers tingling from making contact with your skin. His other hand goes cradling your face, tilting your head up until his nose brushes lightly against yours. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your soft chuckles sound melodious to his ears. ���And you’re so handsome.” You purr, smiling lazily as though you are drunk on whatever spell he is casting on you. Your eyes drink in his every feature, marvelling at how he has been perfectly sculpted. Your finger absentmindedly traces along his jawline, sending shivers through him. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

He so badly wants to hear those words from you again, needing you to claim what is rightfully yours. “That’s right, pretty baby. I’m yours.” His voice is a low rumble that resonates deep in your core, and you recognise the familiar possessiveness glinting in his eye.

You smile at him before tilting your head to a perfect angle and pressing your lips into his, kissing him sweetly while he eagerly reciprocates. The kiss starts off soft and slow, your lips moving in perfect tandem, but eventually, a familiar hunger rouses within you as you deepen the kiss with your hands sliding beneath his black top, feeling up the prominent ridges of his abdominal muscles as they faintly flex beneath your touch.

Heeseung can feel his cock hardening with each passing second, and it feels nearly impossible to resist your allure that calls for him as you continue to ravage him with your lips and hands. He groans against your lips when you teasingly slide your fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs, moving lower and lower.

Heeseung forces himself to pull away from your addicting lips, his breathing ragged due to suppressing his own desires. “We should stop, sweetheart, or else I might get tempted to take you right here and now.” He tells you honestly, but his tone carries an underlying warning that tempts you to go against it.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You counter cheekily, gazing at him sensually as you slowly turn around, only for a startled squeal to leave your lips when he slaps your ass with a resounding smack. “Heeseung! That hurts.” You tell him, pouting your lips as you rub the spot where he smacked you.

“Eat, or you’ll get more spanking.” He says firmly, his tone and his eyes feel intimidating enough for you to rethink your choices just when the second option resonates with you more.

“Fine, daddy.” You decide to be mischievously petulant, huffing and showing him attitude as you walk away from him with a purposeful sway of your hips, feeling his eyes fixated on you.

His eyes watching you with dark intent, groaning quietly as his cock gets excited at the mere word of ‘daddy’ leaving your kissable lips. He sighs softly and shakes his head. By you, he is forever undone.

“So, what is your schedule for today?” You ask as you settle across from him on the island, seated on the high stool. You preen when he pours the syrup on your French toast but instantly falters when you realise that he might head over to the company after this. “Do you have anything on at work?”

“I’m free for today, and I might also be free for a whole week.” He informs, chuckling softly as he sees the way your eyes light up like fireworks. “So I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

“Really?” You ask again, receiving a confirmation from him as he nods his head. An idea pops into your mind, an idea that is definitely more than suggestive. A sly smile spreads across your lips. “So we can do whatever we want?”

The familiar hunger and lust swirling in your irises is not lost on him as he smirks lightly, feeling greatly amused at how awfully needy you are, but it won’t hurt for him to tease and edge you for a little longer. “Whatever my gorgeous girl wants.”

It isn’t that you are being ungrateful for the opportunity that was given to you that allows you to spend more time with your lover. Sure, the day is spent with cosy domesticity — heading over to the supermarket to buy some groceries, baking brownies together, and he even entertained you by joining you to colour your colouring book. But something is missing, and you know that it has to do with the fact that he is playing dumb to your overt display of need.

Oh, you know that he’s teasing you, edging you. You tried to seduce him under such pretences, hoping that he would get the damn hint that you wanted him to fuck you, but he didn’t indulge you, simply overlooking your patent desire and being nonchalant about it. You even enticed him with the way your hands roamed around his muscles and how you poured your need into the kisses you shared with him in between those moments. Yet, he never went beyond those kisses and touches, impressively enough, because you know that your boyfriend has an interesting level of sexual drive.

It is more than obvious that he’s playing around at something with you, and it’s fucking infuriating because you need him after he left you high and dry last night, after being apart from him for more than a week. Hence, you remain pouting with your arms folded below your chest, curling yourself in the corner of the sofa, and being all sulky towards your boyfriend, who is comfortably settled just a few spaces away from you.

Little do you know that Heeseung has been taking great delight in the way you are getting antsy and restless, completely deprived of the type of intimacy you desperately crave. Still, he knows that he eventually needs to give in to the pity since his girl can get quite sensitive, even if it’s merely a harmless teasing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, finally breaking the ice that formed ever since you turned sullen. He looks away from the animated television, his eyes settling on your face.

You want to ignore him, but one look at his handsome face is enough for your resolve to crumble. “I’m bored, and this show is boring me.” You tell him in a grumble, and technically, it isn’t entirely a lie, but there is no way you would let him know the exact truth. “Can we do something else?” Your eyes sparkle with hope as you look at him.

“What exactly do you want to do?” He asks slyly, wearing a mask of genuine curiosity that elicits a disbelieving scoff from you.

You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion at the way he bats his eyes at you innocently. “You know what, Hee.” You deadpan, running out of patience.

His mask fades at the moment a smirk unfurls on his lips. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” He drawls, and that’s all it takes for you to crawl towards him, his eyes darting down at the teasing visual of your luscious cleavage.

You lack any shame as you throw your folded leg on the other side of his thigh, now straddling him with your hands gripping his shoulders. “Heeseung, please.” You whine softly, your bravado slipping and revealing unadulterated neediness, and yet he can see how shy you are with your face flushing with diffidence.

Heeseung is enjoying this view more than he intended, his eyes practically fucking you, which makes your pussy flutter and your clit throb, impelling you to grind on him slowly. “Use your big girl words, baby.” He demands huskily, fighting off the urge to touch any part of your curves as his hands remain lax to his sides.

“I want daddy to fuck me with his cock. I need daddy to fulfil his promises to me from two nights ago.” You keen as you continue to hump on his very prominent bulge that you can distinctly feel the shape protruding in his sweatpants. You return your needy gaze to him, tears glistening in your eyes that he can’t help but soften at. “I missed daddy so much.”

“I know, baby.” He says so gently, but the intensity of his primal hunger that shadows his countenance remains unyielding. He finally caves in as he reaches for your face, his thumb stroking your cheek affectionately. “My pretty baby has been feeling lonely for more than a week.”

“Want daddy to be close to me.” You sob softly, your eyes remain glistening with unshed tears as you allow your emotions to take over you, which has you faltering in your momentum of humping on him. “Want you to never let go of me.”

“Daddy’s here, baby. I’m here.” He reassures you in a soft lull, now leaning his body slightly forward with one hand pressing on your back to prevent you from falling backward while the other remains stroking your cheek as he continues to whisper sweet, assuring words that elicit a mewl from you. “You won’t feel lonely anymore.”

Soon enough, you become distracted by the intimate contact between your warm bodies and how mesmerised you are by his handsomeness up close, your eyes gazing at him with both desire and adoration before you slowly find yourself grinding your clothed cunt into his hardened bulge that feels rock solid.

“That’s it, pretty baby. Grind on my cock just like that.” He whispers amorously, his dark eyes drinking in your delicate features that slowly contort into pleasure as your clit begins to feel stimulated. His eyes fall to your luscious lips that go parted with whines and silent moans. “Wanna give daddy a kiss?”

You nod your head feebly before leaning in with your head tilted to an angle for your lips to mould perfectly with his. He kisses you softly and delicately, as if you are made out of glass, a juxtaposition to the way his hips buck up to meet your every move as you grind on him with such desperation.

But your hunger for your lover is insatiable, propelling you to deepen the kiss as you press your lips into his hard while your hips stutter against him, losing the momentum as you lose yourself in the passion of your shared kisses, your hands cupping his cheeks while his arms lock around your waist.

“You don’t have to rush, baby. We can take our time.” He manages to mumble in between the kisses, and you force yourself to control your insatiable need, whimpering against his parted lips when his hands grip your hips to guide your movements. “Nice and slow, just as daddy likes it.”

Heeseung is completely enamoured by you and the sheer pleasure contorting in your face, your lips going parted with a dulcet tone of your needy whines and airy moans while you arch your body into him as you rock against him. His eyes fall to your exposed chest that your tank top can barely cover up, compelling him to pepper feathery kisses on the expanse of your chest.

Your head is going delirious just by grinding on his cock alone, going back and forth in a continuous motion that rouses your cunt to sensitivity, allowing you to distinctly feel the shape and girth of his cock hidden under the material of his sweatpants. 

“You feel so big.” You moan out softly in his ear, your breath tickling his earlobe while the sound alone is enough for him to cease his feathery assault on your chest. “Can’t wait for daddy to fuck me and be mean to me.”

Heeseung groans lowly at the lewd words coming out of your pretty mouth, his hands on your hips tightening from the sheer restraint of the ravenous beast within him. “My pretty baby is so fucking desperate, yeah?” He rasps against the column of your throat before nipping at it with his teeth.

You whimper at the prickling sensation of his teeth sinking into your delicate skin, but it only impels you to rock against him harder. “Only for you, daddy.” You whisper in his ear, such innocence in the way you speak but dripping with sensuality.

Something inside of him snaps, and all inhibitions are thrown out of the window, allowing his inner demons to consume you wholly now. “Fuck, come here.” He nearly growls out his words, shocking you at the gravelly timbre in his voice, barely giving you the time to process when he captures your lips in a searing kiss.

Heeseung kisses you roughly, even more so with an avid passion that intensifies the familiar heat in your core, drawing languid moans from you as you part your lips for him to thrust his tongue into you, exchanging saliva with you and licking every inch of your wet cavern. His hands manoeuvre underneath your tank top, feeling your skin underneath his touch before he deftly unclasps your strapless bra with one hand.

Heeseung masters such adroitness when he successfully removes your bra and tosses it aside without breaking the heated lip lock. A whine leaves you when he pulls away from your chasing lips; the string of saliva remaining connected between your lips and his is a testament to your co-equal desires.

Your cunt clenches as soon as he leans down and envelops your nipple with his lips, sucking on it despite the material of your tank top remaining a barrier. You arch your back at the sensational pleasure in your nipple as he continues to suck it while his other hand is occupied in palming your once-neglected tit.

“Hee—” You moan out, and you swear you are about to come undone just by getting your tits manipulated by his mouth and hand. You look down, only to feel more turned on at the sight of him now licking your nipple languidly, staining your tank top with his saliva before he bites it down gently and does the same to the other nipple. But you can’t take the unbearable heat in your core anymore. “I need you now.”

Heeseung decides to give in to your needy request as he catches on to the palpable tremor in your voice, but not before giving your perky nipple a hard lick with his tongue as well as squeezing your other tit for good measure.

“Hold on tight to me, baby.” He demands as his hand moves under your ass cheek to support you while you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He proceeds to rise from the sofa and makes his way to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with ease.

Lacking self-control, you decide to cave in to the temptation and press your lips into his skin, sending shivers down his spine at the sensation of your warm, wet lips. He clenches his jaw as you continue to distract him with kitten kisses all over his neck, knowing how sensitive he actually is, particularly when you lick his Adam's apple sensually.

“Fuck, sweetheart, if you keep doing that—” He groans deeply when you nip at his Adam’s apple hard, his cock twitching because of it. He squeezes your ass tight while his steps become disconcertingly stringent. “You’re so gonna get it.”

You continue to lick and kiss his neck, even as he finally enters your shared bedroom. He stops by the vanity table to retrieve something he had prepared earlier without your knowledge while the other hand continues to carry you with ease before taking long strides to your bed.

In a blink of an eye, Heeseung manoeuvres you to the bed, your back hitting the mattress that springs up and down from the impact, but you quickly recover as you raise your upper body with the support of your elbows pressing down on the bedding. Your eyes feast shamelessly on how attractive he looks in a simple black top with the silver necklace adding to his allure, and his bulge is prominent against his sweatpants, but what highly intrigues you is the pink silk restraints in his grasp. 

You meet his eyes, only to bite down your lip in an attempt to suppress your arousal as you notice how pissed off he looks, reminding you of those concert clips of him that you practically get off to. You squeeze your thighs together.

“You naughty little minx.” His husky voice is laden with lust despite the anger dripping from his tone, and that alone excites you unlike any other. His dark eyes penetrate into you condescendingly. “Is this what you want? You really want daddy to be pissed off at you so he could teach you a lesson?”

“Want it so much.” You purr, arching your back purposely to make your perky nipples prominent against the thin material more than they already are while your gaze remains sultry. “Want daddy to fuck me mean.”

His dark eyes drink you greedily, how sinfully divine you look so pliant on the bed with your white tank top being wetly tainted by his saliva and how your nipples get perkier, your chest heaving up and down from the tension dawning in your bedroom. “Take off your top, baby.” He orders gruffly, taking steps forward towards you.

You do as he says so, raising your upper body to balance yourself as you remain in a sitting position before grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it over your head. The cool air immediately causes your nipples to harden.

Just as you toss aside your top, your heart lurches in your chest when he slams your body back onto the mattress, his fingers curling around your neck firmly while he has you pinned underneath him helplessly. You gasp softly from the sudden impact before flickering your eyes to his dark ones, rendering you awed and tense by the sheer intensity in his eyes.

“What? Scared of daddy now?” He asks mockingly, his knee pressing into the mattress that is situated in between your legs, and it takes every strength for you to avoid grinding your clothed cunt on his thigh as you can feel him pressing into you.

“N-No.” You stutter, feeling both nervous and excited at the unknown of his plans as well as the unpredictability of his behaviour that you have always found incredibly hot.

He scoffs with the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk, and fuck, he’s so hot that it makes your pussy weep. “Daddy wants to do many things to you; you have no idea.” He says lowly, his fingers curling around your neck, loosening just a fraction. “But first, what’s the safe word, sweetheart?”

As much as he wants to ruin you till you’re a sobbing mess, he needs another reassurance from you, an additional consent sort of, as he worries that he might go too far on you. “Pink.” You tell him softly.

Heeseung scans your face, searching for any hesitation, but all he sees is the unadulterated need of your salacious craving for him, drawing a smirk on his lips. “You’ve done it, sweetheart. You get mean Heeseung now.”

You gasp into his mouth when he captures your lips in a breathtaking kiss, stealing your every breath, which leaves you panting into his mouth, but he uses the opportunity to thrust his tongue into you, licking and tasting you, never getting enough of you. Your hands fist at his shirt, panting and mewling against him, but he captures your hands and raises them above your head.

Heeseung bites down on your bottom lip so hard that you swear it is bruising enough to draw blood, eliciting a whimper from you, but you feel highly aroused at his roughness. He pulls away from your lips, allowing you to gasp for air. You attempt to gain control of your hands, but he grips them tight, prompting you to look at him with confusion, only to watch as he deftly binds your wrists together with the pink silk restraint.

Heeseung is unsparing as he proceeds to trace an ardent path with his lips on your skin, kissing you down your neck until he reaches the expanse of your bare chest. You whimper as he roughly palms your tits before taking one nipple in his hot mouth.

You moan at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling and licking your nipple before he does the same to the other nipple while multitasking in palming and squeezing the flesh of your tits. You grind your throbbing cunt on his thigh. “Nngh! Hee—“ Your lips part open in a silent scream at the stinging pain in your tit that is smacked by his palm.

“Fucking missed these tits. Made to be sucked.” He groans as he pushes your tits together hard with his thumbs pressing down on your nipples before sucking them again, loving how the pearls hardened in his mouth. Your cunt clenches uncontrollably at your tits getting manipulated by his relentless hands and mouth.

But he releases them, only to slap one tit as he watches it jiggle, eliciting a painful cry from you, but you arch your body with your tits pushed out. “You love getting your tits slapped? Nasty slut.” He does it again, each slap to your tits amplifying your pleasure and sensitivity that has you moving your hips to rub your clothed cunt on his thigh. “That turns you on, yeah?”

If anything, his degradation turns you on more than anything, finding it incredibly hot that your sweet, gentle boyfriend is uttering such degrading words to you. He slaps your tit hard once more, drawing a sob from you before he leans down to lick your abused nipples and peppers kisses on the spots where he slapped you.

By the time he’s done, your nipples are glistening with his saliva, a barrier that provides you warmth against the cold temperature of the room. He trails open-mouth kisses down the plane of your stomach with his fingers tucking underneath the waistband of your sweatpants before swiftly pulling it down, now revealing your baby pink underwear that bears a noticeable spot of your arousal.

“Dirty, naughty girl. Getting wet from getting your tits slapped and played with?” He teases you, causing your face to flush warmly. He proceeds to pull down your underwear, only to press it into his nose as he smells it. “Fuck, baby. You smell so good.” He nearly moans out his words while you are left flabbergasted.

“Heeseung!” You blurt out, feeling embarrassed that he continues to smell your stained underwear as though it is his salvation. At the exclamation of his name from you, he stops smelling your underwear and directs his glare to your face.

“Wrong.” He says coldly, and before you know it, your thigh stings painfully at the impact of his palm. You whine in response and try to close your legs, but he forcefully slots himself in between your legs and lands a smack on your other thigh, harder this time. “What should you address me as?”

You sob out softly, your eyes glistening with unshed tears that bring a smirk to his lips, because he’s not even done with you and yet you’re already on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry, daddy.” You whimper out your apology, earning yourself a kiss from him on your waxed mount.

Heeseung brings himself to the eye level of your pussy while his hands press on your inner thighs, forcing your legs to spread. “Daddy’s home, princess.” He coos, reminding you of the video call where he spoke to your pussy as if it were a person. Your breath hitches in your throat when he uses his fingers to spread your wet folds apart lewdly. “Look at you, princess. Already dripping wet because of me?”

You can feel your pussy preening under his attention and the way the padding of his fingers is stroking along your folds absentmindedly. “Missed you so fucking much, princess.” He places a wet kiss on your swollen clit that throbs intensely, prompting you to buck up your hips at the sensitivity. “Daddy thought of you every night, got me imagining how good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.”

A concoction of lust and yearning laces in his tone, and when you look down at him, his eyes are heavily fixated on your preening pussy before he leans in to place another sensual kiss on your clit. “Seungie—“ You clamp your lips shut as soon as his dark eyes flicker to yours with a disapproving glare.

He sighs against your pussy, his hot breath fanning on your folds. “But as much as daddy missed you, you need to be taught a lesson.” He brings his palm down to your pussy, tearing a cry from you at the painful impact, but he spares you no mercy as he does it again, causing your hips to buck up to meet his slaps instinctively despite the pain. “My princess has been missing so much that she easily gets wet even when daddy is slapping her.”

Another slap to your pussy sounds lewdly wet with your arousal as it echoes in your room, causing your hips to buck up again, and you lose track of how long he goes on until you can’t handle the fiery sensitivity. “Daddy, please.” You whimper, your lips quivering with need while a single tear rolls down your cheek.

This time, the padding of his fingers lands on your clit hard, eliciting another cry from you, but he leans down and silences you with a chaste kiss. “Shhh, shhh, baby.” He shushes you, his lips grazing your parted ones with his breath mingling with yours. He is being deceptively soft, his features softening as he gazes into your glossy eyes, but his fingers around your neck remain unabating. “Take what daddy gives you like a good fucking slut you are.”

You whimper as you bare your neck to him with your head tilted up, feeling the instinctive need to submit to him, which earns you a pleased smirk from him before you find yourself being rewarded with a rub on your clit, only for a moment until he lands a sharp slap on your pussy again. You hold back from letting out another cry as he does it again, his dark eyes locking with yours as though challenging you to look away. 

Tears accumulating in your waterline at how merciless your lover is being, giving you both pleasure and pain, but mostly denying you the pleasure. You give him a doe-eyed look that you know he would never be able to resist, and the effect seems to be working when he falters before wrapping it up with one hard smack to your pussy.

You release the waterfall as they flow freely, your eyelids fluttering close when he presses a kiss on your forehead, nearly purring at the affection. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says as you look at him, butterflies swarming in your tummy at the smirk on his handsome face. “Now daddy will reward his princess.”

Your heart races in anticipation when he brings his thumb to lips and licks it, his eyes never leaving yours as he does so, before finding your clit and rubbing it slowly yet effectively as you feel the bundle of nerves being stimulated. 

His dark eyes watch you intently in the way pleasure contorts in your features as you flutter your eyes closed with soft moans leaving your lips. “Daddy loves how sensitive you are just by getting your clit played.” He remarks, chuckling darkly as your hips begin to move back and forth sensually as though you are being fucked by his cock. “You’re that desperate, it’s so pathetic, princess.”

Heeseung knows that you revel in the degradation he bestows on you, and that itself makes him harder than he already was. “Feels good. Missed your fingers so much.” You utter breathlessly, feeling your abdomen flexing at the building pleasure.

“Princess wants my fingers in her?” He hums, his fingers sliding along your wet folds teasingly while his question earns a needy whine from you.

Before you know it, his two long fingers slide into your wet hole, relentlessly plunging deeper, which has you gasping brokenly at the resistance of your walls being stretched just by his fingers alone, and yet you need his fingers to boost your pleasure to a higher degree.

“More.” You tell him needily as he begins to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, delving rhythmically without losing momentum in the way he rubs your clit unrelentingly. “Please, daddy. I need more.” 

He lets out a condescending scoff, his eyes leering at you. “Greedy baby. I never taught you to be greedy.” He admonishes, but he increases the intensity in his deft fingers, fucking you to the point you can hear your own wetness that sounds obnoxious. “I’ll give you more, alright. I’ll fucking ruin your pretty pussy. Wanna see if I can make you squirt.”

You are not confident that you can since you have never squirted before, but with the way his fingers are fucking into you skilfully while each thrust hits harder than the previous, maybe you might be proven wrong. You close your eyes, nearly choking when he squeezes your neck while your hips meet every thrust avidly. You can feel the knot in your tummy forming tighter and tighter while something feels different this time.

“Right there!” You moan out as soon as his fingers hit that spot before he curls them, drawing out something more impactful from you as he becomes dangerously relentless. Your arms twitch while your hips stutter midway from meeting his thrust, feeling the inevitable release. “Daddy—”

“Come on, squirt for me, princess. Make a fucking mess over my fingers.” He grits his teeth, sheer determination painting his handsome face as he drives you closer to the edge of pleasure that feels intense, and before you know it, the knot in your tummy unravels as you explode with clear fluid gushing out of your cunt while your thighs quiver.

Though you have come undone, he doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers into you, overstimulating your every sense that has you whimpering for reprieve, only to earn a wet slap on your pussy that makes your hips twitch from the impact. You try to close your legs, unable to handle the sensitivity as he rubs your clit with maddening precision, but he smacks you in the ass.

“Who said you could close your legs?” He nearly growls out, now positioning himself where he is on the same eye level as the explicit view of your pussy. His arms go hooking around your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs again. “Daddy hasn't even gotten a taste of his slutty princess yet.”

You open your mouth to retort, but a breathy moan comes out instead when his tongue licks a broad stripe of your pussy. He presses his tongue into your clit, feeling it throb faintly before licking it like it’s a lollipop. He stops and rears back, only to spit out a glob of his saliva as it lands on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in sheer pleasure. You arch your back, moaning as his tongue goes lathering his saliva on your clit messily before skilfully stimulating it.

“Princess tastes so fucking delicious. I could never get enough of you.” He mumbles against your pussy before flattening his tongue to drag it in an up-and-down motion in between your wet folds while the tip of his nose hits your clit that is aching tremendously. “Been hungry for this sweet pussy for too long..”

You want to grab onto his hair, but the restraint binding your wrists is a hindrance. You feel his long tongue now fucking into your wet hole, moaning at the taste of you while it sends a vibration through your sensitive cunt. Your body writhes under his firm hold as he eats you out vigorously like a madman, and your abdomen trembles with the familiar knot coiling tighter. 

“Daddy, please! I can’t!” You sob out, lacking the endurance of your sensitivity as tears spring in your eyes, but he continues to eat you out, his tongue delving deeper that allows you to feel the wet muscle grazing your walls.

You can only produce pleasurable moans and whines of protest as you struggle in his vice-like grip. He must’ve felt bad hearing the occasional sobs leaving your lips as his hand finds home to your tit, palming it softly and twiddling with your nipple, but the action only intensifies your pleasure.

“Give me one more, baby.” He speaks to you from below, his voice sounding attractively husky before his tongue goes attached to your budding clit while his fingers plunge into your sopping cunt.

The dual sensation overstimulates you unlike anything else, eliciting higher-pitched moans from you as you arch your back in pure ecstasy while your thighs quiver from the sensitivity. Your lower abdomen feels tight with tension, and you know it won’t be long till you come undone again. With a hard flick of his tongue on your clit, your body convulses as your orgasm comes crashing down on you like tidal waves.

“Heeseung—” You utter his name weakly as he laps up your nectar with his tongue before finding strength to correct yourself again. “Daddy, I need a break, please.” Your voice trembles the same way your thighs do, shivering when his tongue licks a long stripe along your soaked pussy.

Heeseung finally halts before hovering on top of you with his eyes darkening with something predatory. He grips your chin firmly while his thumb presses down on your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth, and you do so without question, only to be highly aroused when he spits a glob of his saliva and your cum into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

A crazed lust glints in his eyes as he watches you swallow with delight, finishing it off with a moan before he smashes his lips into yours in a frenzied hunger, kissing you messily that involves tongues and teeth clashing, nothing like the way your kisses with him were.

Heeseung breaks the messy lip lock and leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily while his eyes search for yours, seeing how adorably dazed you are. “Hope you’re still with me, baby. Daddy needs your mouth to satisfy his cock.”

You know that your oral fixation for his cock is avid when you find yourself salivating at the vivid image of his cock that you and your pussy have dearly missed. You watch as he leans away from you before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up with ease. You attempt to make a move to get out of the bed, eager to kneel for him, but he stops you before your foot can touch the floor.

“No, baby. I won’t have you hurting yourself by kneeling for me on the floor.” He tells you firmly, and for a moment, confusion flickers in your gaze. “Just stay on the bed and sit on your knees.”

Your heart swells with love at his thoughtfulness amidst the prevalent lustful haze in the room. With your slightly aching thighs, you unsteadily change your position, but his hand remains gripping your arm firmly to support you. Once you are seated on your knees politely with your restrained wrists pressed to your chest, he releases you.

Realising that you are directly at the eye level of his cock, your face flushes warmly while you notice how his bulge becomes more prominent before slowly lifting your head to look at him. The fact that he is towering over you right now makes your pussy flutter, and it isn’t helping that he is smirking down at you while he lazily unties the string with one hand to loosen his sweatpants before pulling them down until they fall to the floor.

“Hope you’re hungry, baby, because daddy needs your mouth to take his cock for as long as he wants.” He says darkly, his hand pulling his grey boxers down until his cock manages to spring free, going completely erect as it is pointing towards you.

You nearly purr in satisfaction at the delicious visual of his cock that you had dreamed of on nights without him. He steps closer, enjoying the way your eyes are hungrily staring at his cock.

“Wanna be good for you, daddy.” You say softly, leaning into his touch as he cradles your face with his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. His heart palpitates when you look up at him with the prettiest doe-eyed look on your face, such innocence despite kneeling for him in sheer nudity. “Wanna be your good girl.”

“You’re already my good girl, baby.” He hums softly, his other hand grabbing the base to guide it to your face, only for him to slap his heavy cock to the side of your face a few times that arouses you before teasing himself in the way he slides the swollen tip on your cheek while you wait in anticipation. He grabs your chin firmly. “Open your mouth for me, sweet girl.”

You open your mouth wide open, taking the initiative to stick your tongue out that allows him to slide his cock on your wet muscle back and forth, allowing you a taste of his arousal that leaks from the tip, before he slowly pushes his cock into your mouth. You envelop your lips around his girth and proceed to take him with your head bobbing while your tongue manipulates around his tip that feels engorged.

“Fuck, baby. You’re taking my cock good.” He moans breathily, feeling his pleasure mounting from your skilful mouth and tongue. His hand reaches for your hair and grabs it in a makeshift ponytail to assert control over you. “But need you to take daddy’s cock deeper.”

You nearly gag when he lodges his cock deeper until the head is pressed into the back of your throat, and you display your struggle as his girth constricts your airways, prompting you to nudge your bound wrists to his abdomen while your breathing goes erratic.

Heeseung tilts your head to meet your glossy eyes, his face remaining stringent, but there is a softness of concern in his eye. “Don’t panic. You’ll only make it worse. I need you to regulate your breathing for me. I know you can, baby.” He instructs, his tone encouraging enough for you to gain determination. “Breathe through your nose.”

You do so, now breathing normally through your nose while the panic in your chest dissipates. He slowly releases your hair, allowing you to set the pace as you proceed to fuck him with your hungry mouth. The salty taste of his arousal leaking from his tip makes you moan while he can feel the vibration of your muffled moan from the back of your throat, intensifying his sensitivity as he throws his head back, letting out a low, guttural moan that goes straight into your cunt.

“My eager cockslut.” His husky voice is laden with lust and a familiar derogatory that elicits a needy whine from you, but it is muffled by his cock that is lodged deeper in your throat. “You missed daddy’s cock so much, hm? Look at how eagerly you’re taking me with that slutty mouth.”

You hum in response, your eyes tearing up from the way his cock brutally breaches your throat that hurts so good. The sound is utterly lewd in the way you take the entirety of him into your mouth as it echoes off the walls of your shared bedroom while the corners of your lips are dripping with your drool.

You love the way his handsome face contorts into pure gratification when your tongue swirls and licks his engorging tip that you fear will explode. You daringly use your teeth to graze his thrusting cock, earning yourself a glaring hunger in his eyes when he looks down at you, but you know that he’s into it when he makes no remarks, only emitting attractive sounds of his groans and breathy moans.

Eventually, Heeseung reaches the heights of his pleasure, blood rushing and pumping in his cock while he is on the verge of release. He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail again, but this time, with roughness that elicits another moan from you despite the pain in your scalp. “I’m gonna come, baby, and you’re gonna swallow every drop like a good cockslut you are for me.”

You choke and gag on his cock, but he doesn’t spare you any concern as he gets lost in the sea of pleasure, using your mouth as his cocksleeve and driving himself to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel his rhythm going erratic and how his bulbous tip is practically pulsating on your tongue. In just a few seconds, he lodges his cock deeper in your throat and goes still as he releases viscous streams of his heavy, sticky release that you are forced to swallow.

“That’s a good girl, taking every drop.” He praises you in a low rumble that has you preening before you eagerly swallow for more with your tongue circling around his girth, your mouth now painted white with his cum.

Heeseung finally pulls his cock from your mouth, allowing you to gasp for air while your jaw aches from the exertion. He grabs you by the chin firmly, asserting dominance again that has you meeting his eyes in pure submission. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby. Let daddy see the mess he made in your mouth.”

Your cunt clenches at his words while you stick your tongue out with your mouth wide open again, showing him the remnants of his white sticky release on your wet muscle. Heat pools in your core once more when he throws a wad of spit into your mouth before he closes your mouth for you, forcing you to swallow, and you do so, enjoying the union of his spit and cum trickling down your throat.

Heeseung proceeds to untie the pink silk restraint around your wrists, giving you the impression of regaining your freedom until he quickly proves you wrong when he deftly manoeuvres you into a position where your face is pressed into the mattress.

“D-Daddy?” You stutter nervously as he forcefully takes both your arms and folds them together, pressing them into your back before tying the same pink silk restraint around your arms in a firm knot.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby. I’m gonna break you since that’s what you wanted, yeah?” His voice sounds raw with a primal hunger while his breathing sounds heavier, and you can only visualise in your head how hot he looks as you are unable to look over your shoulder. He has you on your knees still as they are pressed into the mattress, leaving your back to arch for him and the explicit visual of your two holes displayed in his eyes. “Daddy’s been missing his princess a little too much.”

“Need you so bad, daddy.” You whimper when he taps the bulbous head of his cock on your wet folds, impelling you to spread your knees further apart and your back arching deeper. 

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be fucking all night.” He says smugly as he eyes down at your gaping hole that has been assaulted by him earlier. With one last tap of his cock to your pussy, his powerful hips surge forward as he thrusts his cock into your awaiting cunt, gritting his teeth at the resistance of your walls around his girth. “Damn, baby. No matter how many times I fuck you, you’ll always feel tight around me.”

You can only moan, instantly going dumb just by another push of his cock as he begins to fuck you in slow, deeper strokes, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein in his sheer girth that has your head going delirious.

“I fucking missed this sweet pussy. Princess was made to take my cock. Gonna ruin your pussy for anyone else.” He lets out a guttural moan as he thrusts into you roughly, his muscular hips snapping against your buttcheeks with resounding smacks. “Pretty baby being a good cocksleeve for me. So fucking good to me. Need to be buried in you all night.”

Your clit feels neglected despite your pussy being fucked good by his cock. You whimper, turning your head to the other side with your cheeks pressing into the mattress. “Daddy.” You whine needily, earning yourself a sharp smack on your ass that springs tears to your eyes.

Heeseung grabs you by the hair and pulls you up just slightly while the other hand grips your waist to support your upper body from falling forward. “What more does my greedy baby want?”

“Want your finger to rub my clit.” You keen, desperation dripping from your tone. You moan out when he slams into you unforgivingly, causing your whole body to shake from the impact.

“Greedy fucking slut. Just my cock alone is not enough for you.” He growls out, his tone is absent of any usual loving or softness, just rough with relentless degradation that is driven by his primitive hunger for you.

Still, Heeseung caves in to your request, but he pulls you up until your body is upraised while you remain standing on your knees. He releases your hair and wraps his arm around your chest while the other travels down to your aching clit. He rubs it hard and fast with maddening precision, stimulating your clit effectively with the pleasurable knot forming in your tummy.

With the dual sensation of his cock ruthlessly bullying in your cunt and his fingers rubbing your clit relentlessly, your eyes nearly go white as you throw your head back in pure ecstasy, your mouth gaping with pornographic moans that spur him further.

“Keep making those pretty fucking sounds, baby. Want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” He growls in your ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He places a chaste kiss on your earlobe while he never falters in his momentum of fucking you deliriously. “You’re making daddy very happy.”

“Daddy.” You whine, your voice lacing with pure need for his affection. You turn your head to meet his glaring eyes. “Please kiss me.” You request softly, to which he grants it, dipping his head down and capturing your lips in a kiss that sates your need.

You moan against his parted lips, your cunt clenching hard around him as the knot in your tummy tightens at an alarming rate. “I’m gonna come, daddy.” You whisper sweetly, your tongue darting out to lick the seams of his lips. “Want you to come with me.”

“Whatever my gorgeous girl wants.” He kisses you once more before pulling away from you while you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, completely surrendering yourself to the imminent release as the knot in your tummy threatens to snap. “Here it comes, baby.”

You moan and whine uncontrollably at the intense stimulation of his fingers rubbing your clit hard and rapid while your tits jiggle from the way he slams his hips into you, his cock battering your cunt and delving deeper that you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

With another guttural moan from him, his orgasm crashes down on him in a torrent of ecstasy at the same time your orgasmic release hits you, and his hips go still against yours as he dumps his cum into your cunt. He groans as he bites down on your shoulder, feeling your cunt milking him greedily, as though it has been eager to be filled by his cum.

Your body feels weak as you remain leaning into him dependently, but he gently lowers your body till you go lax on the mattress. Your mushy brain can barely process anything when he turns you around and pins both of your wrists above your head to tie the pink silk restraint around them once more.

“No, Hee—” You protest weakly as he rears back, towering over your pliant figure. Your pussy flutters as you watch him pulling his black top off his body and tossing it aside, revealing his lean body with toned muscles that entice you to feel them under your touch. “Untie me, please?”

But Heeseung disregards your polite request as he simply casts you a smirk, now moving on the bed and pulling you close to him by the legs. “You’re the one who said that you wanted to be tied down while I fucked you, so I’m giving you what you want.”

You watch in lustful anticipation as he grabs the base of his cock and aims it at your pussy. He taps the red tip on your clit repeatedly with such intensity that it stimulates your bundle of nerves once more, eliciting whines from you as you squirm at the high sensitivity.

“I’m still sensitive!” You whine loudly as your hips stutter, trying your best to avoid him, but he pins you by the waist and continues to tap the tip angrily on your clit before sliding it up and down in between your folds. “No more!”

“Don’t be ungrateful. Daddy is giving you more than what you asked for.” He admonishes, his husky voice sounding rough. His eyes flicker to your glossy ones, and he adorns a taunting smirk on his lips. “Like I said before, it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess, and I’m spoiling you with my cock since you’ve been busy fucking around with that damn dildo.”

Heeseung groans as he tilts his head up, feeling his own sensitivity as his tip feels good pressing into your clit while you marvel at his attractiveness, particularly the way his Adam’s apple is bobbing. “It’s about time I remind you that only my cock can satisfy your needy pussy the way you want.”

You are about to counterattack with the reminder of him who bought that dildo for you as a gift of an apology before he went for another tour, only to gasp at the sheer girth of his cock breaching your pussy without any warning.

His chest rumbles as he lets out a growl that sounds borderline animalistic, relishing the way your walls stretch divinely around him. “Fuck, feels just as good as the first time.” He remarks gruffly, now hovering above you with both hands pressing down into the sheets on the sides of your head. “This pussy is mine, and you’re mine.” He snarls possessively, sending pleasurable shockwaves to your body.

With another thrust into you, Heeseung proceeds to fuck you in hard, deep strokes that have you nearly seeing stars in your vision. His hands fist the sheets, watching in both amusement and desire as your mouth is gaping with airy moans while your glossy eyes look dazed as they zoom into his. His cock practically twitches at the way you look adorably dumb just by his cock bullying your insides the second time.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. Can’t have you going dumb on my cock too soon.” He chuckles breathily above you, the sound itself sending flutters to your heart. You blink your eyes, watching as his pendant necklace dangles in the air right above you, getting even more turned on at the mere sight that causes your cunt to clench around him hard.

“Fuck, baby. You’re trying to vacuum my cock or something?” He groans loudly, nearly faltering in his steady momentum as your walls hug him tighter. He forces himself to push his cock deeper into you, eliciting another pretty moan from you.

“You’re so hot, daddy.” You utter in a drunk slur, smiling lazily at him despite the intensity of his dark gaze making your insides purr loudly. “Want you to fuck me angrily like how you looked in those concert clips I watched.” You babble, your mind knowing nothing but him and his cock alone.

Deja vu hits him like whiplash before he recalls the same words you spoke two nights ago during that video call. He scoffs, smirking meanly at you, and has your walls fluttering around his cock in excitement. “You’re such a dirty, horny slut, princess.”

You hum in agreement, mewling when his fingers caress your face that feels deceptive. “I’m your slut.” You state proudly, moaning when he hits the spot that has you throwing your head back.

“Yeah, you are.” He growls as he fucks his cock into you with an unyielding force that causes your tits to jiggle, enticing him to grab a handful of it while the other remains supporting his weight from pressing down on you. “You’re daddy’s slut only. My gorgeous slut with the perfect pussy.”

You preen under him, almost forgetting that your wrists are bound by the restraint just when you are about to run your fingers through his hair. His hand goes gripping on the bed frame behind you, allowing you the delicious view of his bicep muscle flexing with every forceful thrust he delivers to your sopping cunt.

“H-Harder.” You utter shakily, finding yourself slipping into the heady mix of lust as each thrust of his cock into you rouses the building pleasure to greater heights.

Heeseung complies, thrusting into you harder with a profound impact that knocks the breath out of you. Sweats begin to glisten on his skin as you spot trails of sweat dripping down his sideburns while his jaw is taut with tension and his dark eyes are full of concentration, wanting to bestow sheer pleasure on you.

You have no idea how long he has been fucking into you harder and rougher, but long enough for you to discern the sound of your bed creaking from the impact, and your mind is reduced into nothing, with only moans, gasps, and whines being coherent. You feel your cheeks wet before realising that they’re your own tears.

“You look so pretty when you cry, baby.” He comments, his voice ladening with raw hunger and lust as he drinks in the pain and pleasure twisting in your delicate features while you remain helpless with your wrists bound. “Daddy's gonna make you cry more.”

Heeseung hoists both legs up till your kneecaps are pressed into your shoulders, shocking you with your flexibility that you have no idea you are capable of. In this position, his cock feels deeper in you to the point where you feel overstimulated despite the knot in your tummy having yet to unravel.

“Heeseung!” You scream, unable to handle the intensity of his momentum as he fucks you with reckless abandon, battering your walls ruthlessly while depriving you of the ability to writhe or squirm. It hurts so good to the point where you are torn between enjoying the painful pleasure that feels addictive or uttering the safe word that hangs at the tip of your tongue.

“Take it, baby. Fucking take it all!” He growls, his face contorting into pure madness that you can’t help but to find him unbearably hot, causing your nearly battered pussy to flutter. “I’m going to dump my cum in your cunt. I’m gonna breed you with my seeds, knock you up with my baby. You’d look so hot with a pregnant belly.”

A broken moan leaves your lips as your mind is reeling at his words, but soon enough, the knot in your tummy is close to snapping. “I’m close, daddy!” You announce in a cry as tears continue to spill from your eyes.

“Come for me, baby.” On his demand, you are slammed by a shuddering release that has your body convulsing beneath him while he encircles his hand around your ankle and places a soft kiss above your ankle as you continue to bathe his relentless cock with your sticky essence.

Heeseung drags on your orgasm a little longer before his own imminent climax hits him as he tumbles over the edge of ecstasy, spilling his cum into your cunt and filling you to the brim as this time, his cum feels more loaded than the previous. He groans, feeling your cunt spasming around him as he lodges his cock deep, ensuring that your hole is taking all of it.

But when he looks down at your conjoined sexes, he spots the union of his cum with yours leaking from your hole. He clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction before withdrawing his cock from your battered pussy and allowing your weary legs to settle down.

Just when you think he is done, your once-heavy eyelids snap wide open at the sensation of his tongue lapping up your pussy lips. “Heeseung!” You whine, squirming away from him, but he releases a grunt and holds your inner thighs down firmly, depriving you of any means of escape until he’s done with you.

“I can’t! It’s too much!” You sob out, feeling overstimulated to the point where your emotions are going haywire, but the way your hips buck up to meet his tongue betrays you.

Heeseung continues to lick your messy pussy and pushes the leaking cum into your hole despite your body attempting to thrash around in his vice-like hold. His tongue scoops the remnants of your cum before he hovers above you and grabs you by the throat, forcing you to open your mouth.

You watch with glossy eyes as he transfers a wad of your cum with his into your mouth, moaning involuntarily when it hits the back of your throat. He leans in to kiss you hard, bruising your lips again with how ravenous he is. He pulls away from you while the string of your saliva is prevalent until he cuts it off with a lick along the seam of his lip.

Your lips quiver with a soft whine of protest when the bulbous head of his cock slides between your wet pussy lips, your glossy eyes meeting your lover’s face as he looks down at your nearly conjoined sexes. “No more, daddy, please.” You protest weakly, finding the strength to look down at his erection going hard for you once more.

“One more, baby. You can give me one more, yeah?” He rasps, pressing his lips into your cheek as he enters your weeping hole with an obscene squelch, your walls accommodating to the familiarity of his sheer girth and feeling as though they have been moulded to the shape of his cock.

“You said that earlier too.” You whimper shakily as he begins to thrust into you slowly, taking his time to relish the way your walls envelop around him like they never want to let go.

“I know, baby, but I can’t get enough of you and your sweet pussy.” He murmurs, his tone a familiar mellow, while his mean demeanour melts into the sweet and gentle lover. His thumb strokes your clit tenderly, eliciting a mewl from you. “I promise I’ll try to be gentle this time.”

“Can you untie me, please? I wanna hold you.” You plead tearfully, feeling utterly desperate to hold your lover and seek comfort in his warmth.

He kisses your cheek in response before planting his hand next to your head while the other skilfully unties the restraint without faltering in his thrusts. Once your wrists are freed from the restraint, you are quick to lower your aching arms and run your fingers through his tousled hair while your lips manage to find him, kissing him faintly.

“Still sensitive, daddy.” You cry softly, your indecisive hips squirming and meeting his thrusts while he amplifies your sensitivity by rubbing your clit in measured precision. You mewl at his overflowing affection as he peppers kisses all over your face with one arm snaking around your arched back.

“You’ll feel better with daddy’s cock soon.” He says so gently despite his austere demeanour, which remains unyielding enough for you to surrender to him. He presses his lips on the corner of your lips, biting back a groan when your walls vacuum his girth. “Thought you wanna be my good girl.”

“I do.” You keen as you attempt to meet his slow yet powerful thrusts, but his hips keep pressing down on you, making you feel his cock at deeper heights. “I love being your good girl.”

Heeseung kisses you as a reward before rearing back just slightly for him to look down at your tummy. “Look, baby. My cock is deep inside of you.” He says smugly with a soft smirk on his lips, prompting you to glance down, only to moan at the sight of your lower tummy bulging with each thrust of his cock. He presses down his palm on your bulging tummy, adding more pressure. “Feel that?”

You nod your head numbly, getting lost in the abyss of pure pleasure. “M-more.” You manage to enunciate your words despite your mind being reduced to nothing coherent except the sheer need of him and his cock. “Want you to breed me again, daddy.”

“I love you.” His sweet declaration strikes a chord deep in you amidst the heady mix of lust, and his eyes gazing into yours are a reflection of the sentiments that your heart harbours for him. “You’re so perfect for me, like you’re made just for me. My perfect girl.”

You moan softly, your cunt squeezing him at his praise. The overstimulation is slowly replaced by an incandescent pleasure that feels searing and all-consuming as you meet his thrusts with a renewed vigour. His thumb remains stroking and rubbing your clit, which amplifies the familiar knot in your tummy.

“Feels so good.” Your eyes go white as you throw your head back in pure ecstasy while the hypnotising arch of your back entices him to take a nipple in his mouth in the way your tits are being pushed out.

“Yeah, you do.” He rasps against your tit, giving it another sloppy kiss before hovering his face above yours and positioning his lips to your parted ones, your bated breaths mingling together.

Your heart flutters at the mere gesture of his fingers intertwined with yours in a loving yet tight grip before pinning your entwined fingers next to your head. You squeeze his hand as soon as you feel the familiar yet profound release that you know will be a messy gushing release.

“I’m close, Hee.” You inform him in a weak moan as the intensity of his thumb rubbing your clit sends you hurtling to the edge and his thrusts become unyielding and forceful, bordering on intoxication, making you arch your body into him.

He can feel his own pleasure teetering as he squeezes your hand. “Let it go for me anytime, baby. Daddy’s got you.” He whispers affectionately in your ear, his hips snapping into yours as his cock lodges deeper to the hilt.

You hook one arm around his neck, needing him close to you as you are teetering on the edge of sheer pleasure. The sounds of your whiny moans and mewls go straight to his cock as it twitches inside of you, on the verge of release. With one last push, his own orgasm washes over him violently at the same time your release gushes out in an uncontrollable fluid while your body convulses beneath him, soaking him and the sheets entirely, finally attaining the pinnacle of your pleasures.

Still rubbing your slick clit to prolong your delicious orgasm, he looks at you, feeling the insatiable beast within him growling for more of you as he watches your delicate features twisting in pure pleasure with silent moans leaving your parted lips while you continue to bathe him with your essence.

Heeseung can’t resist capturing your swollen lips, his hips faltering while his cock remains inside of your cunt that is brimmed with the union of your releases. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue roaming around your hot cavern lazily and licking the seams of your lips before devouring you again.

You remain rocking your hips despite him pressing his hips into yours. Your fingers go tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands that bring him pleasure as he groans lowly into your mouth. You continue to make out with him, basking in the post-orgasmic release while the exertion begins to dawn in your limbs.

“I missed you so much.” You mewl into the kiss, tears welling behind your closed eyelids as he kisses you sweetly yet softly that flutters your heart. You pull his body closer to you with your legs wrapped around his thigh, craving this much-needed intimacy that you have been craving for ever since his long absence.

“I missed you more, baby.” He murmurs against your parted lips, allowing you to gasp for air. He begins to litter his kisses down on your neck. “I love you.” He utters, his voice laced with affection that feels profound, while his chest blooms at the realisation that he is finally back in your arms, back to you.

You cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I love you more.” You tell him, your voice trembling with emotions as you gaze at him tearfully, unbelieving at the fact that someone like him is your lover.

His eyes soften at the tears rolling down your stained cheeks freely once more. “Not more than I do.” He whispers, dipping his head down and kissing you deeply on the lips, pouring every bit of his emotions into the way he kisses you.

Heeseung pulls away from you while you whimper at the loss of his warmth on your body, only to find yourself being lifted by him as he rolls you on top of him, your lower abdomen pressing into his cock that slowly renews with vigour.

“Heeseung.” You whine, feeling both amazement and shock at the fact that he manages to get hard again in a short span of time. You force yourself to raise your upper body with your palms on his pectoral muscles for support.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He grunts as soon as your walls envelop him, his hands pressing you down by the hips while you slowly sink onto his cock with a broken moan. “Want you to ride my cock.”

Just like that, the two of you succumb to the abyss of sheer pleasure once more, losing yourselves in the heady mix of sweat, lust, and love. You even lose track of time for the hours ever since he started fucking you, and he fucks you in every position that is accessible for him to seek your lips in a kiss occasionally. 

By the time Heeseung decides to fuck you for the last time, your pussy is leaking with the union of your insatiable release so much that it stains your sheet to the point where it practically collects a pool of white sticky cum.

You begin to feel the need to let go again for the last time as your legs are shaking tremendously from the unrelenting overstimulation, finding yourself in a position that is similar to a mating press with your knees being folded and your legs spread widely for him. You feel more exposed compared to any position, your battered pussy being spread open by his thrusting cock. 

“I need to come.” You hope you sound coherent enough after the incapability of enunciating anything other than a litany of moans, whines, and whimpers. Your glossy eyes scan his face again, admiring how he manages to maintain his hotness in the way his dark eyes penetrate into yours with the strands of his hair falling over his forehead that are soaked with his sweat.

“Me too, baby.” He says, his voice sounding rough at the edges as he delivers one impactful thrust that triggers both of your orgasms that have been teetering on the same edge, his cum filling your used, battered cunt to the brim.

As the last echoes of ecstasy wane in the air, you allow your spent body to fall limp with your terribly aching legs remaining trembling from the countless orgasms he drew from you. Though your need is fully sated, you feel an overwhelming need to break down with the whirlpool of emotions unabating within you.

Before you know it, a loud cry escapes you while your chest feels oddly tightened. The waterfalls come down uncontrollably despite your efforts to curb this unexplainable feeling inside of you. All you know is the need to let out those tears.

But Heeseung shows no sign of panic, as if he knows that this would happen. Instead, he positions himself next to you and cradles your trembling body close to him. He tucks your face in the nook of his neck while you continue to sob out profusely, your hands blindly seeking his warmth and skin as they roam around his torso before hugging him tight.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” He whispers in your ear with an overflowing affection that only seems to bring out more sobs from you. With one arm around the expanse of your shoulders, he places the other on your lower back and draws soothing circles on your skin, grounding you to the moment as he pulls you closer to him. “You did amazing, my sweet girl. Daddy is so proud of you.”

Amidst the relentless downpour of your emotions, you silently preen at his praise. He continues to whisper sweet words softly in your ear, his arms holding you like you’re his prized possession, never letting you go. He presses butterfly kisses all over your face as soon as your cries and sobs abate, leaving only occasional hiccups from you that sound adorable to his ears.

A soft whine emits from the back of your throat as the pain, the aches, and the overall exertion dawn on your wrecked body profoundly while your eyes burn from the aftermath of shedding incessant tears. “I know, I know.” He says in a soft hush, his lips pressing on your hairline as he continues to coax you. “Let me take care of you now.”

Something inside of you snaps painfully when your lover pulls away from you, leaving your still-trembling body alone on the bed as he stands on his feet further from you. “Don’t leave me.” You whimper in pain, your chest heaving erratically as you can feel sobs coming up to your throat.

Heeseung looks at you with the softest and gentlest gaze that provides you a minuscule bit of comfort for your distressed mind. “I won’t. I’m just going to fill up the bathtub, but I’ll come back to you soon.” He tells you assuringly before turning his back on you and making his way to the bathroom quickly, because seeing your heartbroken eyes seems to hurt his heart.

His hands work methodically as he prepares everything that is needed while waiting for the bathtub to be filled up with the right temperature, but his mind is not in the present as it drifts to you, needing to be by your side as soon as possible. Once he’s done, he wastes no time in returning to you, finding you all curled up on your side with sniffles leaving you.

Heeseung bends down next to the bed until he meets your glossy eyes. “We’re going to take a bath together, alright, baby?” He says as he strokes your wet cheek tenderly.

“Okay.” You utter weakly, sniffling for another time before you attempt to raise your body, only for him to slide his arms underneath you and lift you up with ease. You want to let him know that you can walk on your own since you know that he must feel exhausted too, but even uttering a word feels like a heavy chore.

So you lean into him with your head resting on his shoulder, your eyelids feeling heavier by each passing second. You squirm lightly in his hold when he submerges into the filled bathtub with you before he positions you carefully where you find yourself seated in between his legs with your back pressing into his chest. Eventually, your body goes completely lax as you allow the warm temperature of the water to seep into your aching muscles.

The low groan of relief rumbling from his chest behind you sends you the shivers as the bath soothes his spent body, but you relax again as you lean into him with his arms around your waist. Comfortable silence wraps around the two of you as you bask in this much-needed intimacy while he occasionally gives you kisses on your crown and forehead.

Seeing how languid you are, Heeseung is determined to take extra care of your well-being — washing your hair and massaging your scalp, lathering soap on your body while you mindlessly follow his gentle instruction for him to rinse every part of you. He is being expertly careful with practiced patience, knowing that you are still sensitive from the aftermath.

And you notice it; even the little actions he does, you really do. It makes your heart swell with emotions as you can feel his love in the way he takes care of you. You want to reciprocate, but you are not in the right headspace just yet.

“How are you feeling right now, baby?” Heeseung murmurs against your hair while he strokes your bare arm tenderly, now holding you close to him with his arm around your waist.

“Sore.” You mumble numbly as you turn your head to look at him with glossy eyes before snuggling into his solid, dependent body. “Want you to hold me close like this.” You whine, curling your body into him as you position his arms a little higher and closer to you.

His breathy chuckles awaken the butterflies in your tummy. “I would like nothing more.”

Time eventually passes by where you are now seated on the edge of your stained and ruined bed, adorned in Heeseung’s oversized shirt and underwear, not bothering to put on any pants. The sound of his footsteps draws your attention as you slowly lift your head, watching him put on a white shirt that sadly conceals his toned physique.

Heeseung stares at the ruined bed with a frown, his eyes narrowing in slight disgust at the sight of the soaked bed sheets, some parts of which are pooled with white sticky cum, but there is a sense of pride at the fact that he managed to make that much of a mess out of you. He exhales through his nose as he runs his fingers through his damp hair. It looks like he’ll do the laundry tomorrow instead, or rather later since the time has struck five in the morning.

When his eyes search for yours, his frown deepens as your cheeks shine with crystalline tears that cascade down silently. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, his mellow tone lacing with a sense of urgency.

Heeseung already expected you to cry from the intensity of your shared passion earlier, but seeing you crying silently right now hits him in the guts, rendering him panicked at the thought of his action or word hurting your feelings.

“I’m fine. I just need—“ You pause, allowing yourself to release a soft sob while you languidly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I just need some time to calm down properly.”

But Heeseung is not convinced, prompting him to kneel in front of you. Despite your blurry vision, you can see the pain contorting in his handsome features. His jaw clenches as you continue to cry silently. “Shit. Was I too rough on you?” He asks, anger rousing within him at himself, but the devastation is prominent in the way he speaks to you. “Was I too much? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby—“

“No, you didn’t.” You cut him off quickly, but the dubiety in his eyes remains. You sniffle and look away from him, your face flushing warmly. “You could even go rougher on me next time.” You mutter shakily.

Heeseung feels genuine confusion, uncertain whether or not to believe your declaration when tears continue to cascade down your beautiful face. “If so, then why are you still crying?”

“I have no idea, but I just feel the need to let it out.” You tell him honestly, sniffling for the last time before feeling the warmth of his palm on your cheek. You lean into his touch as he wipes your tears away. “It’s probably because the sex was too good.”

For a moment, there is silence, but it is shattered by his melodious chuckles. Your heart pounds harder when he embraces you into a comforting hug as you bask in his scent. “Baby, you got me so worried because I thought I did hurt you.” He says, his fingers stroking the back of your head.

“You could never hurt me, Hee.” You utter as you slowly pull away from the hug, and you are hit by a familiar melancholia that derives from the reflection and sentiment you kept hidden for a long time. “You’re a good man, and you’re too good for someone like me.”

Heeseung feels his face drop the same way his heart slowly sinks as he notices the raw vulnerability in your glistening eyes and how there is a palpable tremor in your voice. “No, baby, we don’t do that kind of talking, alright?” He doesn’t mean to sound so stern, but he fears to hear the next words that come out of your mouth.

“I’ve been feeling insecure, Hee.” You finally reveal your deepest insecurity, whimpering as you hug yourself. You continue to pour out your feelings without looking at him because you know that you’d only break down again. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been going on tours more often for months, but there were moments where I questioned myself: what did I have to offer to someone like you?”

You hear him sighing softly, but you don’t grant him any opportunity to intervene. “You’re a popular rising k-idol, and you’re incredibly extraordinary with talents other than your handsomeness.” A weak chuckle leaves your lips, but then comes the heart-wrenching feeling that twists painfully inside you. “But I realised that I’m not in the same league as you.”

“Baby—“

“Your line of work often requires you to be surrounded by attractive people in the same league as you, and they have more to offer than I ever will.” Your voice breaks at the thought of him losing interest in you, and of course he might since you’re bland compared to someone like him. You recoil from him, as though he’s hurting you. “I don’t deserve you, Heeseung.”

“Sweetheart, stop.” He forces himself to sound assertively stern, eliciting a whimper from you. He rises from the floor, only to take a seat next to you without any space in between. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his sorrowful eyes. “If these things have been constantly plaguing your mind, then I have failed as your boyfriend.”

“What? No, you have not, and you have never!” You exclaim with vehemence, surprised at how strong your voice comes out, but the words that leave from your sweet, loving boyfriend’s mouth ignite something akin to anger. Your eyes reflect your self-resentment and bitterness as you look at him. “I’m the one who failed as your girlfriend! I let my emotions and insecurities get the best of me, and I’m bothering you with such trivial matters.”

“Listen to me, please?” He pleads softly as he cups your cheeks, and you clamp your quivering lips shut, your eyes searching for his, noticing the raw vulnerability that reflects your own. “You may find it hard to believe me, but I’ve been having similar thoughts to yours. I've been feeling the same insecurity too.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning, because why would your confident boyfriend, who is a popular rising star and who also happens to be very attractive, be insecure?

“Sometimes I feel like I’m undeserving of you and your love. I often wondered if I was the right man for you because honestly, sweetheart, you deserve so much better.” He confesses, his voice trembling with emotions despite his collected demeanour. He leans his forehead against yours without letting go of your face. “I took you for granted, be it intentionally or unintentionally.”

You shake your head lightly. “But you have never—“

“You told me that I’m too good for you, but it’s actually the opposite.” He smiles weakly as he strokes your soft cheek with his thumbs, gazing into your eyes. “I relied on you a lot for emotional support despite you having to deal with your own emotional baggage, but you’re always so good to me, and you always made it look so easy. It is one of the reasons why I fell for you. Your resilience and compassion. It’s truly admirable — you are admirable.”

You want to spill the tears teetering in your waterline, but your chest blooms delightfully at his kind, genuine words that move you so deeply, and so you continue to listen to him while offering comfort as you place your palms on top of his hands.

“And whenever I had to leave for tours, where I’d be miles apart from you, my heart broke each time at the reality of being apart from the woman I would always need.” The yearning in his deliverance tears a soft sob from you. A warm smile spreads across his lips before he leans in to kiss your wet cheek. “You’re the pillar of my strength, sweetheart, and I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone as beautiful and amazing as you."

Heeseung drops his hands and leans away from you while you watch him with curiosity as he seems to be retrieving something from the pocket of his pants. “Which is why I bought you this.”

There is an emotional lump in your throat when he opens the small blue velvety box that contains two similar platinum rings. “Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly, uncertain which emotions you want to express.

Heeseung adorns a boyish grin that makes you fall in love with him all over again. “I did promise you during that video call that I’d be buying you a ring.” He says as he grabs one of the rings and holds your hand before sliding it onto your ringless finger with ease as it fits around you perfectly.

“Now your turn.” He encourages you to take the ring from the box before you do the same to his ring finger while your insides remain a jittering mess.

“You even got my size perfectly.” You murmur as you examine the ring on your finger with sparkling eyes, feeling incredibly touched despite wondering how he even managed to.

“Well, I might or might not have stolen one of your rings and carry it with me wherever I go.” He confesses, smirking at you mischievously, and that earns him a playful scowl from you, but in all honesty, there is nothing more romantic than him confessing that he carries your ring wherever he goes.

Instead of admiring his own ring, Heeseung watches you with pure adoration as you keep examining the ring like it is now the most meaningful thing to you. “Technically, we could be engaged now. Plus, I did say that I intend on marrying you someday.” 

Your heart flutters while he wipes the leftover tear stains on your cheeks. You look at him with a smile that hits Cupid's arrow to his heart. “So is this like a promise ring?” You ask shyly.

“Something like that, but the most important thing about our rings is that it will serve as a reminder to us.” He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Your heart pounds harder when he places a kiss on the ring itself. His eyes soften when he looks at you again. “A reminder that we would always go back to each other when we’re apart.”

You can’t seem to articulate your feelings, but your eyes speak volumes of the love you have for him, an unconditional kind of love. “I still have to figure things out on how to make you stay by my side.” He sighs softly, but the firm determination in his eyes provides more than just an assurance to you, dispelling any insecurities you once had. “But for now, if I ever have to leave you again, I hope that when you look at this ring, you’ll remember that I’ll go back to you, like I always have.”

“I love you, Lee Heeseung.” You utter, your voice softening as you cradle his face tenderly. “I love you so, so much.”

He smiles softly before grabbing your hand and placing a deep kiss on your palm. “I love you more than you love me.” He declares in between the kisses while his eyes remain gazing at you with pure love and affection. “No one could ever come close to my heart that belongs to you since day one.”

“Since the day you had a crush on me?” You ask cheekily while you gaze at him like a lovesick fool, a lazy smile stretching across your lips.

“Damn right.” He smirks at you before leaning forward to lift you up, eliciting a playful squeal from you as he settles you on top of him, sitting sideways. His nose brushes against yours delicately, tenderly. “You had my heart first back then, even before I realised it.”

With that you close the distance as you lean into him, your lips colliding with his in a shared tenderness, kissing him sweetly while the world fades into insignificance.

The room is cold, but his body provides the warmth you need as you are spooned by him, and the bed the two of you chose to sleep in is situated in the guest room, considering that the bed in your shared room with him is ruined. 

Your leg is thrown over his, hugging him as though he’s your bolster. Your arms are wrapped around his torso, and your head is tucked against his chest, allowing you to hear his steady heartbeat that has become your lullaby. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are already staring into yours, awakening butterflies in your tummy.

“Why are you not asleep?” You ask in a hushed tone, your lips turning down into a frown.

He raises his eyebrow at you, and you can see mischief in the way his lips twitch into a smirk. “Because I couldn’t sleep?”

You roll your eyes at him and huff. “Isn’t that the obvious.”

“Can I ask you something?” He speaks up after contemplating ever since he tucked you into bed with him.

“What is it?” You ask as you adjust your position where your chin is resting on his chest, your eyes sparkling with interest that brings out a chuckle from him.

“Do you really get turned on whenever you watch me perform?” He runs his fingers along your bare thigh absentmindedly. Oh, he has been thinking about this for a while now, ever since your confession during that video call.

“I do, but just certain songs that you perform.” You reaffirm with a sheepish smile, ignoring the goosebumps on your skin at the sensation of his fingers caressing your thigh. “Besides, who wouldn’t get turned on to see her hot boyfriend going wild on stage?”

He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “I go wild on stage?” The question itself elicits a scoff from you because there is no way he doesn’t realise it.

“Yeah, you do. Not that I’m complaining. Got your fans going crazy most of the time.” You chuckle but pout instantly at the familiar bitterness in your chest. “But it got me feeling quite jealous too with how you were so into it, showing all that to other people.”

“Sweetheart, you know I only have eyes on you.” He says softly, distracting you when he squeezes the flesh of your thigh that has your breath hitching. “And you’re the only woman I get turned on over for.”

“Heeseung.” Your face flushes warmer than it did before. 

He grins deviously as he sees how flustered you look. “Did you forget that I also promised that we’d be fucking every day once I came back?”

You scoff out a chuckle. “Good luck with that, because I’m sore everywhere right now, and I’d probably wake up late.” You say, attempting to retract your limbs from your dangerous lover, who looks like he is about to pounce on you anytime now.

But he has you in a firm grip. His hand moves to your round bum and squeezes it. “But baby….”

Shaky breaths leave your lips as you struggle to compose yourself. “Gosh, your sex drive is insane.” You mutter breathlessly, but your heart pounds harder while your clit tingles familiarly.

“Can’t help it when you’re the woman I’m in love with.” He smirks lazily as he dips his head down to kiss you on the lips, and you find yourself reciprocating eagerly. He pulls away, his breath mingling with yours. “Plus, I get turned on by you even when you breathe.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And hot.” He adds while the smirk on his lips never falters.

You can practically hear your pussy purring in agreement. You hum, adorning a lazy smile on your kissable lips that he can’t help but to kiss again. “The hottest ever.” You mumble against his lips.

The comfortable silence returns, but it doesn’t last long when he calls for you again. “Sweetheart?” You hum sleepily in response as the weight in your eyelids gets heavier.

A couple beats of silence. “Do you ever want to ride your pretty pussy on my face? Because I’m into that.” He blurts out rather bluntly, and just like that, you are rendered fully awake in disbelief.

“Baby, no.” You tell him with a frown, but a part of you feels enticed by the idea.

“Come on. It’d be hot with you sitting on top of me and making a mess all over my face.” He reasons with you that you find ridiculous, and yet your mind proceeds to produce such lewd images that faintly ignite a desire in you. “Maybe I’d get you to rub your clit on my throat since I know you have a thing for my Adam's apple.”

You groan into his chest. “Heeseung, sleep.”

But your lover is relentless, even when he’s teasing, or perhaps he’s not at the moment. “I’m definitely making you ride my face.” He says confidently with a smirk when you shoot him a glare, now raising your upper body to look at his face better.

“I’ll shut you up with my pussy if you don’t stop talking.” You say the words that come to your mind instantly without realising they seem to spur him further.

In a blink of an eye, he flips you over, pinning you on the bed with one hand planted next to your head. You can feel your chest purring as he tilts your chin with his fingers while his thumb goes stroking along your jawline.

His eyes darken dangerously, but you know that he still has control over his desire. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.”

Maybe you should threaten him with a good time more often now.

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[aureatelys]

adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

-

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.  

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

˗ˏˋ that first night (her POV) ˎˊ˗

"There's a theory that says you meet everyone in your life twice—once as strangers, and once when it matters. That first night at 'Pulse', with vodka cranberry on your tongue and his eyes burning into yours, was supposed to be the stranger part. No one warns you that six months later, he'll be standing in your new apartment's doorway, looking at you like he's seen a ghost. But that’s a problem for Future you."

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: Before It All (FMU)

wordcount: 15k

pairing: fmu!jungkook x fmu!yn (cocky!jkxbratty!reader)

rating: explicit, 18+

playlist: spotify

content: new york city setting, university setting, strangers to roommates (eventually), nightclub setting, hookup, one night stand, drunk hookup (buzzed/tipsy but consensual), explicit sexual content, oral sex (cunnilingus), protected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, wall sex, rough sex, choking/breath play (light), hair pulling, marking/hickeys, size kink, manhandling, dirty talk, praise kink, bickering during sex, snarky banter, grinding, multiple positions, slight pain kink, slight degradation kink, praise kink if you squint, sexual tension, sexual chemistry, mild exhibitionism (making out in uber/club), slight voyeurism (being watched in club), mild dubious condom practices (that one scene), alcohol consumption, bite kink, aftercare (mild), spooning, scent kink, vanilla scented products, enemies to lovers (eventual), size difference (height), strength kink.

✧ author's note ✧

Hi my little demons! (｀∀´)Ψ Welcome to the prequel that started this absolute dumpster fire - AKA the night our emotionally constipated idiots first met.

Let's talk about how THIS happened, because honestly? I've rewritten this scene approximately 47 times (not exaggerating, my Google docs are a MESS). I initially wasn't even going to write it, but then my 3AM brain, fueled by what was probably my 8th espresso, decided we NEEDED to see these two disasters collide for the first time. And boy, did they collide. (￣ω￣;)

First things first: This is pure, unadulterated filth. I literally had to take several walks around my apartment complex while writing this because these two WOULD NOT BEHAVE. Like, I was trying to be somewhat respectable here, but they said "No♥️" and chose violence. So you know what? I just let them do their thing and documented it like the professional disaster that I am.

Now, let's talk about our girl for a second. Writing her at this specific point in her life was FASCINATING because you can really see all the pieces that made her who she is—the family pressure, the small-town suffocation, the desperate need for control while simultaneously wanting to lose it completely... She's such a beautifully complex mess and I love her for it. (Don't worry, she'll grow. Eventually. Maybe. We'll see.)

And Jungkook... Oh boy. There's SO MUCH about him that I've deliberately sprinkled throughout this chapter. Little details, subtle hints, tiny breadcrumbs that'll make sense later. I'm actually really proud of how many easter eggs I managed to hide in here - come back after future chapters and tell me if you caught them! (Though let's be real, you're probably not here for the literary analysis, you thirsty gremlins.)

The biggest challenge was honestly Emma. Like, how do you get the world's most protective best friend to leave her bestie alone in a club? I spent WEEKS trying to make this work in a way that felt authentic to her character. The sister crisis was my 3AM solution and I'm actually pretty proud of how it turned out. Realistic character motivation is my kink, okay? (＾▽＾)

Speaking of realism—that's literally why this fic exists. I got so frustrated with how many unrealistic elements I kept seeing in stories that I went "Fine, I'll do it myself" and here we are, 35 pages of smut later???? Huh. You're welcome????

Side note: I have this whole thing narrated in audio (female voice only, because no male voice matches Jungkook’s, my beloved ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) but Tumblr said "file too big bestie" so... might drop it on ko-fi if enough people are interested. Let me know in the comments! Speaking of comments—PLEASE tell me your theories about all the little hints I've dropped about Jungkook's past. I'm dying to see what you guys pick up on! (⌒ω⌒)ﾉ

Until next time, you disaster pandas! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Kiki. 🍓

P.S. Any typos are between you and god because I've stared at this document for so long the words have lost all meaning.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

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So here's the thing about nightclubs: you either love them or you hate them.

You? You're more of a 'hate them' kinda girl. The sweat, the noise, the people... not your scene. Not usually, anyway.

But usual went out the window the second Emma suggested this little adventure. Sweet, reliable Emma who you lost touch with after high school but who immediately became your secret accomplice when you reached out about transferring to NYU. Who's been your underground informant for months now—sneaking you tips about the English department, virtually walking you through the campus layout via late-night FaceTime sessions, and helping you plot out the perfect transfer application your parents know nothing about.

Emma, who didn't even blink when you showed up at her door with a weekend bag and a story for your parents about "visiting your responsible friend in the city." (They bought it immediately because, well, it's Emma. Their golden standard of What A Good Influence Should Be.) You'd spent the whole day doing exactly what you came for—touring NYU's campus, sitting in on a couple of English classes Emma snuck you into, and gathering all the transfer information you could get your hands on.

"You can't just transfer here and not know what the nightlife is like," she'd insisted, already rummaging through her closet for something that wasn't your campus tour outfit. "That's like... buying a car without test driving it."

Which, okay, terrible analogy, but you get her point. You've spent months planning this transfer—going over NYU's transfer requirements, crafting the perfect escape from your suffocating small-town university, calculating exactly how to tell your parents once it's too late for them to stop you. The campus visit was supposed to be just that—visiting your responsible friend Emma for a weekend while secretly checking out NYU.

Emma, bless her overprotective heart, had taken one look at your face after that final tour—that specific blend of desperate hope and terrified excitement—and decided you needed to see the whole picture. "The real college experience," as she put it, already pulling out her phone to text her club promoter friend.

"Location sharing on?" she'd asked for the fifth time before you left her apartment, double-checking your phone settings like some kind of Gen-Z mother hen. As if you hadn’t spent the last three months planning this transfer with military-grade precision.

"Yes, mom," you'd rolled your eyes, but something warm had settled in your chest at her fussing. It's... nice, having someone in on the secret. Someone who gets it.

"Emergency contact updated to my number?"

"Check."

"Spare key to my apartment?"

"Emma, I swear to god—"

"Just checking!" She'd grinned, already knowing she was being ridiculous but doing it anyway. "One more thing..."

And that's how you ended up with a literal tracking app on your phone, an emergency SOS button setup, and Emma's solemn promise to "never leave your side, scout's honor." (She was never actually a scout, but whatever.)

Parents really think you're just visiting your studious, sensible friend Emma for a nice, quiet weekend in the city. Having some wholesome catching-up time. Maybe seeing some museums.

Ha. If only they knew you're actually scouting out your future escape route.

If only you knew.

Because let's be real, this isn't exactly in your wheelhouse. But Emma's right there, keeping her scout's honor promise, bouncing between the bar and dance floor like some kind of safety-conscious terror. And maybe it's the way she keeps checking in with subtle thumbs-up signals, or maybe it's just knowing someone's actually got your back in this whole secret college plan thing, but you're... kind of having fun?

Which is how you find yourself here, in this pulsing, thrumming mass of bodies and sound. 'Pulse', the club's called. Fitting, considering how you can feel the bass thumping in your veins, the strobe flashing like lightning in your skull. It's... a lot. But not in a bad way?

Yeah, definitely not bad, you decide as you scan the room. Leather booths, gleaming bar top, and a dance floor packed with the kind of gorgeous twenty-somethings that make you feel simultaneously inadequate and oddly triumphant. Like 'yeah, I might not be that, but at least I'm here.'

And honestly, it's pretty nice here. Clean, classy even. Good lighting over the bar, vigilant security, and Emma vouches for the place. She's your safety net tonight, because God knows you'd never try this solo. But Emma... Emma knows everyone. Gets you both in with a wink and a wave, like some kind of VIP.

The girl's got pull and she's not afraid to use it. You envy that a bit, that confidence. Wish you could borrow just a dash of it, to fortify your nerves as you perch on this barstool, spine too straight and fingers too tight around your glass. But it's fine, it's good, you're good. That’s what you tell yourself, anyways—even if it’s not entirely the truth.

It's just one night. One chance. One small rebellion before you go back home and drown yourself in expectations and demands. Hardly even counts as rebellion, really, in the grand scheme. Not like you're planning on getting blackout drunk and ending up in jail or anything. Just… dipping your toe. Sampling the other side. Just for a night.

What's the worst that could happen?

Famous last words. Or in this case, famous last thought, as you take a too-big sip of your drink and nearly choke on watery vodka cranberry. Good thing no one's paying attention.

Well, except for one guy, apparently. And he's...

Oh. Oh damn.

He's the kind of gorgeous that makes you almost forget how to swallow, even as you scoff internally. Guys who look like that? They're usually bad news. Cringe edgy boys. Like the ones you see on TikTok. The jaw, the eyes, the whole brooding bad-boy package. Not your type. Not even a little.

But he’s hot. Truth be told.

And he's watching you. Not in a creepy way, but… intense. Interested. And wow, okay, maybe there's something to be said for the whole 'still waters' vibe he's giving off, because that gaze is doing things to you. Things you're not entirely sure you're ready for.

But then again... isn't that the whole point? To try something new? To be someone new, just for a night? The girl who holds the stare of a beautiful stranger. The girl who lets the charge build, heart kicking up and skin tingling. The girl who—

"Shit, shit, shit." Emma's suddenly at your elbow, phone clutched to her chest, face twisted with genuine distress. "My sister just called. She's having some kind of breakdown about—god, I don't even know, her boyfriend? Something about him showing up at her dorm? She's hysterical, I can barely understand her—"

You watch Emma's face cycle through about twelve different emotions in three seconds. She keeps glancing between you and her phone, clearly torn. "I should go check on her. But I can't just leave you here alone. Fuck. Maybe we should both—"

"Em, I'm fine," you try to reassure her, even as your stomach sinks a little. Great. Just when things were getting interesting with dark eyes over there. "I can just get an Uber—"

"No, no, wait." Emma's scanning the club like she's looking for something specific. Her face lights up suddenly as she spots someone by the weights machine in the club's weird gym corner. Because apparently some clubs have those now. "Oh thank god—hey!!"

She waves frantically at some guy who's been doing bicep curls between taking selfies for his Instagram story. You vaguely recognize him from Emma's study group—one of those guys who probably knows the protein content of everything in his lunch and considers gym updates a legitimate form of social interaction.

"Perfect timing," Emma says as he approaches, already dabbing his face with a workout towel. She's rapid-fire texting, probably her sister. "You're still doing that safe walk program thing for the student union, right? The volunteer thing they made you do after that frat party incident?"

"Yeah bro, community service hours almost done," he confirms, then looks confused as Emma practically shoves her phone in his face, showing him what you assume is your location-sharing setup.

"Great. This is my best friend from high school. She's got location sharing on with me, SOS button setup, fully charged phone." Emma's talking so fast she's almost tripping over her words. "I have to go deal with my sister but I'll be back in an hour tops. Could you just... keep an eye out? Make sure no creeps bother her?"

Your face heats. "Emma, seriously—"

"I know, I know, you can handle yourself," Emma cuts you off, already shouldering her bag. "But humor me? He’s actually great at this. Always walks girls home after study group. Total golden retriever energy."

You catch the way her eyes flick meaningfully toward where dark eyes is still watching from across the room. Like she's trying to say 'here's your safe but slightly dim option if you want it, but...'

Your phone buzzes with an incoming wall of texts:

Emma: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢!!! 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 Emma: 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚢𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜... 👀 Emma: (𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 & 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎!!!)

"Hey there. Emma had to run, but she didn't want to leave you alone. Asked me to keep you company. That okay?"

The voice cuts through your spiral, and you blink up at the interloper. Brent? Brad? Some monosyllabic gym bro who's friends with Emma and apparently your new babysitter.

Great.

You paste on a smile, even as your attention flickers back to him. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a mouth that could probably do very interesting things, you bet your money on it. But no. Don’t get distracted. Eyes on Brett. He's safe, he's known. Boring as a beige wall, but that's better. Smarter.

"Yeah, of course," you say brightly. Too brightly. Even you can hear the false note, and you cringe. "Thanks for keeping me company."

Because that's why you're here. For safety, for company, for sampling the world, but through a protective barrier. Not for tall, dark, and dangerously appealing over there. Definitely not for him.

Even if you kinda wish it was.

"You're pretty."

And like... okay? Thanks? But also, ugh. It's not that you're not flattered—you are, in that vaguely uncomfortable way that makes you want to simultaneously preen and roll your eyes into next week. Because yeah, duh, you know. You own mirrors. You're aware of your assets, thank you very much. But there's something so wonderfully, terribly basic about guys who lead with that.

Still. You give him another once-over, because fair's fair and also because like... why not? He's not bad. Actually pretty decent, if you're being honest (and you are, because what's the point of lying to yourself?). Broad shoulders, nice arms, that whole gym rat aesthetic that apparently some girls go crazy for.

Not that you're necessarily one of those girls. You've always preferred a more... balanced build. Something between "I can bench press you" and "I've never seen the inside of a gym." Like, yeah, muscles are nice and all, but you want to be able to actually cuddle without feeling like you're laying on a marble statue. Give you some softer edges any day. Something to sink into, you know?

But beggars can't be choosers and honestly? You're kind of tired of being a beggar. Or, well, not a beggar exactly, but definitely... selective. Too selective, maybe. Conservative. Careful. All those words that really mean "scared to actually live a little."

Not tonight though. Tonight you're in New York fucking City, three hundred miles from your parents' suffocating expectations and that small-town mindset that makes you want to scream into your pillow sometimes. Tonight you could be anyone.

So when you say, "Thank you, you're not bad yourself," it comes out smoother than expected. Almost flirty. And his laugh? Not terrible. Kind of nice actually, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. They're nice eyes too—warm brown, honest. Safe.

"Would you like to dance?"

The question hangs there, and you consider it. Really consider it. Because this—this whole thing—it's what you came for, isn't it? To try something new. To be someone new. Someone who says yes to dancing with attractive strangers in clubs that pulse with bass-heavy Usher remixes.

"You feeling confident?" you throw back, and okay, maybe that was a little sharp, a little too much of your usual self bleeding through. But he just smiles (no dimples, and why does that matter? Since when do you care about dimples?), and holds out his hand.

His fingers are cold when they wrap around yours. It's... not great. You've always hated cold hands, which is ironic considering yours are perpetually freezing. But you let him lead you onto the dance floor anyway, because what the hell. What the actual hell. You're here, you're young, you're... actually kind of buzzed now that you think about it. That vodka cran hitting different after all.

His hands hover at your hips, eyes asking permission, and you give him a look that you hope translates to "yes, but don't get crazy about it." Must work, because his palms settle, grip light but present. You rest your hands on his shoulders (nice shoulders, you'll give him that), and try to find the rhythm.

It's not terrible. Not amazing either, but definitely not terrible. He can move, keeps a decent beat, doesn't try to grind up on you like some horny teenager. His hands stay respectfully placed, thumbs making small circles that should probably feel more exciting than they do.

Everything about this should feel more exciting than it does.

Maybe you need another drink. Maybe you need to stop overthinking every little thing and just... be. Maybe...

Maybe that's when it happens. Your eyes drift up, over his shoulder, like they're being pulled by some invisible thread. Like something in you just knows where to look. And there he is.

Dark eyes locked on yours, expression unreadable in the strobing lights.

One second. Two. Three.

An eternity compressed into the space between heartbeats. Your skin prickles, heat crawling up your spine that has nothing to do with the crowded dance floor or the alcohol in your system. The weight of his stare is palpable, laden with something unnamed but acutely felt. Something that turns your mouth to the Sahara and your pulse into a kickdrum.

Usher croons about falling in love while Pitbull drops his signature "dale" in the background, and isn't that just fucking hilarious? Because this—this moment, this look, this stranger—this isn't about love. This is about want. Raw and simple and completely uncomplicated by things like names or histories or futures.

This is about the way his jaw clenches slightly as he watches you dance with someone else. About how his fingers drum against his glass in perfect time with the beat. About the little scar on his cheek that catches the light when he tilts his head, studying you like you're a puzzle he wants to take apart piece by piece.

Your dance partner's hands feel colder by the second.

It's not that his hands are bad, exactly. They're... nice hands. Big hands. The kind that wrap around your hips like they were made to be there, fingers long enough to span the distance between hipbone and hipbone. And yeah, okay, you have a thing for hands. Who doesn't? It's practically universal at this point—like liking bread or hating people who talk during movies. Just basic human nature.

But something's... off.

Your brain is doing that thing. That stupid, annoying, overthinking thing where it won't shut up long enough to let you enjoy anything. And god, you hate this. Hate how your mind rebels against perfectly good situations, like it's allergic to straightforward pleasure or something. Because objectively? This should be working. Hot guy, good music, decent amount of alcohol in your system. Your body's definitely on board—you can feel the low simmer of attraction, the way your skin warms under his touch. The basic chemistry is there.

But your mind? Your mind's like that one friend who shows up to parties just to list off everything that could possibly go wrong. His hands are cold. His laugh doesn't reach his eyes. No dimples. The way he said "pretty" like he was checking off a box on some "How to Pick Up Girls" checklist.

You sigh, already stepping back. Watch the confusion flicker across his face, quickly masked by what you're sure he thinks is an understanding smile.

"Everything alright?"

And like... no? Yes? Maybe? How do you even answer that when you're not sure what's wrong in the first place? When you're standing here on a dance floor that's vibrating with Usher's voice while your brain short-circuits over the temperature of some guy's hands?

"Yeah, I'm just..." You pause, teeth catching your bottom lip as you reconsider. Fuck it. Might as well go with the classics. "The vodka. Has me feeling buzzy, I think I'm not feeling too good."

It's a cop-out and you know it. But it's also an easy out, the kind that doesn't hurt anyone's feelings or make things weird. Because that's what you do, isn't it? Keep things smooth. Keep things nice. Even when you're lying through your teeth to some guy whose name you can't quite remember.

"Hey, that's okay." His smile stays steady, concerned even. "No hard feelings. You need a ride home?"

And that—that right there—that's actually kind of sweet. In another universe, maybe that offer would seal the deal. Nice guy, worried about your safety, probably has a stable job and calls his mother on Sundays. But in this universe? In this universe, your eyes are already drifting over his shoulder, drawn like a compass needle to true north.

You press your lips together, scanning the crowd like you're actually looking for someone. Like you haven’t known exactly where he is this whole time, haven’t felt his eyes raking you up and down non-stop.

"Actually I know someone just across the way, so honestly, zero worries."

The shock on his face would be comical if it weren’t so irksome. "You positive? Weren’t you visiting from out of town? Emma mentioned you were just in for the weekend."

And okay, what the actual fuck? Why does he need your whole life story? Yeah, sure, he's probably just being nice. Probably just wants to make sure you're not about to wander off and get murdered or something. But still. The irritation rises in your throat like bile, sharp and inexplicable.

"Doesn't mean I don't know anybody in New York," you say, and wow, okay, that came out with more edge than intended. Quick, fix it, smooth it over. You paste on a tight smile, the kind that probably looks more like a grimace but hey, at least you're trying. "See you around, Brent."

You're already moving as you say it, heels clicking against the floor with purpose. You think you hear him call after you—something about his name being Peter?—but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about cold hands and careful smiles and all the safe choices you should be making.

Because your feet know where they're going, even if your brain is screaming about bad decisions. Even if every rational part of you is throwing up warning signs and red flags. Even if—or maybe because—you can feel his eyes following your every move, heat spiraling up your spine with each step closer.

The bass drops, and your heart kicks up to match it.

Dale, indeed.

You don't need to look at him to know he's watching. You can tell. Can perceive it. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire. The kind of heat that makes you want to step closer even as your survival instincts scream danger, danger, danger.

And this? This is definitely dangerous.

You don't do this. Like, ever. There's a whole routine to these things, right? Guy sees girl, guy approaches girl, girl decides if she wants to deal with whatever fumbling attempt at flirtation follows. That's just... how it works. How it's always worked. Because guys? They're usually terrible at being approached. Their fragile little egos can't handle a girl making the first move. Plus, most of them aren't worth the effort anyway.

But.

But your feet are already moving. But your heart is already racing. But something about the way he's been watching you, like he could devour you whole and still be hungry—it makes you reckless. Makes you stupid. Makes you brave.

"Dance with me."

It comes out more command than question, your voice steadier than it has any right to be. He looks up at you from his seat, and fuck. Just... fuck. Because the way he tilts his head? The slow, deliberate motion of it? That should not be as hot as it is. That should be illegal in at least three states.

Then he smiles. Just one side of his mouth lifting, lazy and confident and—oh god. A dimple. One perfect little dimple that makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"That's bold."

His voice is lower than you expected. Rougher. Like whiskey over gravel, and you want to drink it down until you're drunk on it. Want to find out what other sounds you can pull from that throat.

"You've been looking at me for 10 minutes." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, sharp and challenging. "You gonna come dance or not?"

He chuckles—actually chuckles, who even does that?—and holy shit, there's another one. Two dimples. Two perfect little dents in his cheeks that make heat pool low in your belly, thick and sweet like honey. Your fingers twitch, aching to touch them, to press thumbs to those tiny curves and feel him beam against your flesh.

When he stands, it's one fluid motion that makes it feel like someone replaced your esophagus with a cracked porcelain vase. Because he's tall. Not incredibly, super tall. But yes the kind of tall that means you'd have to stretch up on your toes to reach his mouth, that means his hands could probably span your whole waist, that means—

No. Nope. Not going there. Not yet anyway.

He follows you onto the dance floor, and you can feel the energy shift. Like the air itself is charging up, preparing itself for both of you. His friend—some guy with killer dance moves who's been holding down a corner of the floor all night—catches his eye and shoots him a look. Something passes between them, quick and meaningful, before Mystery Man's attention is back on you. All on you.

And yeah.

Yeah, this is happening.

This is definitely happening.

The bass pounds through your marrow as Usher's voice continues suffusing the air, talking about DJs and falling in love, and honestly. At this point you’re barely listening to the music itself, too focused on finding a more secluded spot.

Your pulse picks up speed. Can’t help it, really. Because this? This is definitely going to be worth breaking all your rules for.

You lead him to some darker corner of the club—might be by a column, might be an alcove, who fucking knows because your brain's too busy short-circuiting to care about architectural details right now. All you know is it's slightly away from the main crush of bodies, slightly more private, slightly more...

Oh.

His hands find your hips the second you turn to face him. No hesitation. No silent question. No careful hovering or polite uncertainty like what's-his-name earlier. Just warm, sure palms sliding over the curve of your hips like they belong there, like he's claiming territory, and—

And you should be annoyed. You should be fucking livid. Because excuse you? The audacity of this man to just assume he can touch you without so much as a "may I?" Some feminist you are, getting weak in the knees over this caveman behavior while poor Brett (Blake? Whatever) at least had the decency to ask permission with those puppy dog eyes of his.

But your brain? Your traitorous, horny, absolutely useless brain? It's sending signals straight between your legs because apparently that's what does it for you now. The confidence. The heat of his hands—and god, they're so warm, burning through the thin fabric of your dress like brands. They're not as broad as the other guy's, but his fingers are longer, elegant almost. Artist's hands, scattered with tiny tattoos that disappear under his sleeve, and that silver ring on his middle finger catching the light as his grip tightens just slightly...

(Middle finger. Not left-hand fourth. So not married then. Good. Last thing you need tonight is adding "homewrecker" to your expanding list of dubious habits.)

Your arms loop around his neck almost on autopilot, and then you're moving. With him. Against him. The bass is a living thing between you, and he matches your rhythm instantly, like your bodies already know the steps to this dance. Like you've done this a hundred times before, in a hundred different lives.

His eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and dark as sin, and every hair on your neck stands at attention. Electricity crackles down your spine, sharp and sweet, as his thumbs press into your hipbones. Just enough pressure to guide you closer, until there's barely room for breath between you.

"Didn't catch your name earlier," he says, voice pitched low enough that you have to lean in to hear him over the music. His breath fans hot against your ear, and you suppress a shiver.

"Didn't throw it," you shoot back, because apparently your mouth is running on autopilot now too. Great. Just great.

But he laughs—a quick, rough sound that you feel more than hear—and his hands flex against your hips. "Feisty. I like that."

"Bet you say that to all the girls who proposition you at clubs."

"Nah." His head dips closer, nose brushing your temple. "Just the ones who stare at me for ten minutes first."

"Excuse you, you were staring at me."

"Maybe we were staring at each other."

And okay, that's... fair actually. But you're not about to admit it. Instead, you roll your eyes, even as your fingers find the soft hair at his nape. "Does this usually work for you? This whole... whatever this is?"

"You tell me." His smile is audible in his voice, and you just know those dimples are making an appearance again. "You're the one who told me to dance."

"Maybe I just felt sorry for you, sitting there all alone."

"Wasn't alone. Had my friend."

"The dancer? Please, he was too busy killing it on the floor to keep you company."

His laugh vibrates through his chest into yours, and when did you get this close? When did your bodies start pressing together with every sway of the music? When did his thigh slip between yours, creating a friction that makes your breath catch?

"You been watching my friend too? Should I be jealous?"

The word sends an unexpected thrill through you, even though his tone is clearly teasing. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yeah," he says, and suddenly his voice isn't teasing at all. His grip tightens fractionally, pulling your hips more firmly against his. "Yeah, I would."

Goosebumps ripple across your arms, slow and inevitable, like lava carving its path through stone. His eyes burn into yours again, scorching hot, wild, and consuming—a downpour drowning a raging fire, leaving nothing but aftermath. What’s left in their wake is the kind of black that clings. Opaque. Dense. Like ash, settling over a forest stripped to its bare bones.

The sensible part of your brain—the part that usually keeps you from doing stupid, reckless things with beautiful strangers—is suspiciously quiet. Probably because all your blood is currently occupied elsewhere, namely with the way his hands are starting to trace slow patterns on your hips, the way his breath keeps ghosting over your neck, the way his body moves against yours like he's writing sin in cursive.

And maybe it's the vodka, or maybe it's how he's gazing at you like you're tranquility amidst his chaos, but you hear yourself say, "Buy me a drink first."

His smile is slow, dangerous. "That an order too?"

"Consider it a... suggestion."

"Mm." One hand slides to your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer for just a moment. "I'm starting to like your suggestions."

Your skin feels too tight, too hot, too everything. "Starting to?"

"Give me time." His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and this time you can't suppress the shiver. "Night's still young."

He actually does buy you that drink, which is... something. You're not sure what exactly, but definitely something. The way he guides you to the bar with his hand still on your lower back, fingers splayed wide enough to make you notice the imprint of his warmth? Also something.

"Another vodka cran," you tell the bartender, because hey, if it ain't broke. Then you catch his raised eyebrow and can't help adding, "What? Were you expecting something more sophisticated?"

"Nah." That damn dimple makes another appearance. "Just trying to figure you out."

"Good luck with that."

When he pulls out his wallet to pay, you catch a glimpse of multiple cards fanned out in the leather fold. Credit cards, maybe? Must have money then—or at least good credit. Not that it matters, because this is a one-time thing. A never-gonna-see-you-again thing. A what-happens-in-New-York stays-in-New-York thing.

Your fingers find the cocktail napkin beneath your glass, absently creating sharp creases with your thumbnail. It's one of those fancy ones with the bar's logo embossed in gold—pretentious, like everything else about this place.

Still. You notice how he pauses, studying one card for a beat too long before selecting it. Like he's making sure of something. Weird, but whatever.

The napkin disappears into your clutch without conscious thought. A habit you'll question later but can't explain now. You're too buzzed to care about his personal finances or your own questionable souvenir-keeping tendencies.

"Whiskey neat," he orders, and you barely contain your snort. Of fucking course he drinks whiskey. Probably thinks he's Don Draper or something.

"Pretentious much?"

"Says the girl drinking what's basically juice with a splash of alcohol."

"At least I'm not trying to prove anything."

His laugh is rough, genuine. "Who says I'm trying to prove anything?"

"Please. Whiskey at a club? That's like wearing a suit to McDonald's."

"Maybe I just like whiskey." He takes a deliberate sip, throat working in a way that absolutely doesn't make your mouth water. "Maybe I like the burn."

There's something in his voice when he says that, something that feeds the banked flame in your belly. His eyes are on you again, alternating between your eyes and your mouth like he can't quite decide where to focus.

"That line score you points often?" you manage to ask, even as your voice betrays you, emerging breathier than intended.

"I wouldn't know." He's definitely closer now. When did that happen? Did he move, or did you? "Is it scoring points now?"

And god help you, but it is. It really fucking is. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your system properly, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but you find yourself swaying toward him. Drawn in like a moth to flame, even though you know you're probably going to get burned.

"You're kind of an asshole," you inform him, even as your free hand finds its way to his chest. His very firm chest, holy shit.

"Yeah?" His fingers trace up your spine, feather-light but deliberate. "Seem to like it though."

"Cocky too."

"Haven't heard any complaints."

He's so near now you can smell him—something clean and vicious, like a tempest raging on the coast. His breath fans across your lips, whiskey-warm and promising. One of his hands cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw in a way that makes your skin buzz.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?" you murmur, and that's it—that's all it takes.

His mouth crashes into yours like a wave breaking against rocks, hot and insistent and absolutely fucking flawless. His lips are softer than you expected but he kisses hard, like he's trying to devour you whole. Like he's been thinking about this as much as you have. The hand on your neck tightens, tilting your head to deepen the angle, and holy fuck.

You've been kissed before. You've been kissed a lot, actually. But this? This is something else entirely. This is lightning in a bottle, this is matches in gasoline, this is every hackneyed poetry metaphor about fire and flame and immolation except it actually makes sense now because your entire body is electric with it.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open for him without hesitation, vodka cranberry forgotten in your hand. He tastes like alcohol and dewdrops and something else you can't name but instantly crave more of. The noise he makes when you tug his hair—low and ravenous and almost startled—shoots straight between your legs.

Someone whistles nearby—probably his dancer friend—but you couldn't care less. Not when his other hand is sliding down to your hip, pulling you closer. Not when he's kissing you like he's trying to memorize the shape of your mouth with his tongue. Not when everything in you is screaming more, closer, now.

You're definitely going to hell for this. But with the way he's kissing you?

Might be worth it.

His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing like you've run a marathon. Which is... embarrassing, actually. When was the last time a kiss left you this affected? What are you, some freshman at their first house party? Because this is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Your heart is hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape, and your lips are tingling, and—

And fuck it. Fuck everything. You want more.

"Let's take this outside," you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds considering your internal chaos. Because yes. Outside. Away from the crowd and the music and all these people who aren't him.

"Your house?" The words are barely out of his mouth before you can finish your suggestion, and okay, that's kind of hot. The eagerness. The way his fingers flex against your hip like he's already imagining it.

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. At least you're not alone in this desperate teenage hormone bullshit. At least he's just as affected as you are.

But then reality crashes in like a bucket of ice water. Your house? What house? You're crashing at Emma's place and—oh god, Emma would actually murder you. Like, literal homicide. She's already doing you a solid by covering for you with your parents, and bringing back some random (incredibly hot) guy from a club? Yeah, that would definitely void the best-friend contract.

"Yours?" you counter, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He makes this sound—half hiss, half groan—that shouldn't be as sexy as it is. "Can't."

"What, mommy and daddy don't let you?" The snark is automatic, defense mechanism kicking in to mask your disappointment.

"Nah, but my friend might not like it."

"Mine either."

You stare at each other for a moment, eyes darting back and forth like you're both trying to solve the same puzzle. The absurdity of the situation hits you at the same time—two grown adults, hot and bothered in a club, cockblocked by their respective roommate situations—and suddenly you're both laughing.

His chuckle is deep, rumbling through his chest where you're still pressed against him, and it's... nice. Really nice. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his dimples flash (and seriously, those things should come with a warning label), the way his thumb absently strokes your hip like he's forgotten he's doing it.

"Well, this is..."

"Stupid?" you offer.

"I was gonna say unfortunate, but yeah. Stupid works too."

You're still close enough to feel his breath on your lips, still wound tight with want, still buzzing from that kiss. And now you're both laughing about it, which should probably kill the mood but somehow doesn't. Somehow makes it better, actually. More real. Less like some fantasy hookup and more like...

Nope. Not going there. This is still just a one-night thing. A one-night thing that's currently being cockblocked by your respective living situations, but still. Just one night.

"So what now?" he asks, and his voice has dropped back into that lower register that you really want to hate. "Because I really want to kiss you again."

"Just kiss?" The words slip out before you can stop them, teasing and suggestive and probably way too candid.

His grip tightens, just marginally. Just enough to make your breath catch. "Definitely not just kiss."

"Fuck," you breathe, because eloquence has left the building. Possibly the state.

"That's the idea, yeah." And how he says it—all gruff edges and sinful vow—makes embers spark low in your abdomen. "Just need to sort out the logistics."

Which brings you right back to your current predicament. No Emma's place, no his place, and you're pretty sure having sex in the club bathroom is both tacky and probably illegal. But the way he's looking at you, like he really, really wants to wreck you…

"We could..." you start, then pause. Because what? What brilliant solution are you about to offer here? Your practical brain is absolutely useless right now, short-circuited by the lingering taste of whiskey on your tongue and the steady pressure of his hands on your body.

"Could what?" His thumb traces your bottom lip, and your train of thought derails completely.

"I have no idea," you admit, and his laugh is somehow both frustrated and fond.

"This is definitely stupid," he says, but he's still holding you close, still looking at your mouth like he's considering kissing you again anyway, roommate situations be damned.

"So stupid," you agree, already tilting your face up to meet him halfway.

You lick your lips, tasting geosmin and want and really awful decision-making skills.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. Emma can kill you tomorrow.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist—god, his hands are so warm—and you're already moving, already pulling up the Uber app with your free hand. Thank fuck for muscle memory because your brain is absolutely useless right now, too busy cataloging the way his pulse jumps under your fingers, the way he follows without hesitation.

"Where we goin'?" His voice is low and hoarse as he trails behind you, wrist a hostage to your grip.

"To my friend's place," you mutter, trying to type Emma's address without typos.

You: 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠

You don’t mention you’re not heading home alone. She’ll find out herself.

The dude, for his part, just hums in response, like he's fine with whatever as long as it means getting somewhere private. Which, fair. You're kind of operating on the same wavelength here.

You make it to the coat check line first, because priorities. You’re not leaving your jacket behind. And it is moving at a glacial pace, because of course it is. The universe clearly wants to test your self-control by forcing you to stand here, his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot on your neck.

The way his fingers keep "accidentally" brushing your thigh has you seriously considering saying fuck it and just leaving your jacket behind.

"Could just come back for it tomorrow," he murmurs, like he's reading your mind. His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and you barely sigh in response. Bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

"It's January in New York. I'm not getting hypothermia just because you can't keep it in your pants for five minutes."

"Could keep you warm."

And okay, that line should be cringeworthy. That's the kind of shit that would usually make you roll your eyes so hard they'd get stuck. But he has a way with words—or maybe it’s just his fucking voice—and somehow you like it.

"Next," the coat check girl calls, mercifully saving you from having to respond. You practically lunge forward, fumbling with your ticket. Better than letting him feel how that stupid line affected you.

He reaches past you to hand over his own ticket, arm bracketing you against the counter. And really? Really? This is some romance novel bullshit right here. Who does he think he is, Christian Grey? You should be annoyed. You should definitely not be noticing how good he smells, or how the position highlights just how much bigger he is than you, or—

"Here you go!" The coat check girl's voice is way too cheerful for—you check your phone—3:46 AM. She hands over your coats with a knowing smile that makes your face heat. Great. Just great. Even the coat check girl can tell you're about to make terrible life choices.

He helps you into your jacket because apparently he's decided to be a gentleman now, after spending the last hour making you question your life choices with his mouth. His hands linger on your shoulders just a fraction too long, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

"Ready?" he asks, voice still pitched low enough to make your skin tingle. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and let him guide you toward the exit with his hand on your lower back.

The coat check girl calls out "Have fun!" as you leave, and you seriously consider moving to a different city. Maybe a different country. Somewhere people don't immediately clock your questionable decision-making skills.

The Uber arrives embarrassingly fast—some higher power must be looking out for horny idiots tonight—and you both slide into the backseat. You start on opposite sides because you're trying to be decent human beings, trying to remember that your poor driver doesn't deserve a free show.

But then he's moving closer.

And closer.

And suddenly his mouth is on yours again, hot and demanding, and okay, yeah, sorry Mr. Uber driver but this is happening. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head just so, and you're definitely making some kind of noise in the back of your throat but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about anything except the way his tongue slides against yours, the way his other hand grips your thigh.

Fifteen minutes. That's all it is from the club to Emma's place. Fifteen minutes that somehow feel like both seconds and eternity, lost in a haze of wandering hands and stolen kisses and trying (failing) to keep things PG-13. You're vaguely aware of streets passing, of turns and stops, of the driver pointedly turning up the radio.

And then your attention shifts. His teeth graze your bottom lip, fingers slowly sliding on your inner thigh. Hisses when your nails find his scalp. Heat. Want. Need. Building higher with each passing minute until you're practically vibrating out of your skin.

By some miracle (or possibly divine intervention), you make it to Emma’s building. You stumble out of the Uber, giving the driver your most apologetic smile-grimace combo. He just shakes his head, probably adding you to his mental list of "drunk hookups I never want to see again."

But then he's pressing you against the building's front door, mouth hot on your neck, and you really can't bring yourself to care about your Uber rating right now. Not when his hands are everywhere, not when he's making these little sounds against your skin that go straight between your legs.

It takes three tries to get the key in the lock—partly because it's 4 AM and you're tipsy, mostly because he won't stop kissing you long enough to focus. When you finally get the door open, you nearly fall through it, saved only by his arm around your waist.

"Smooth," he murmurs against your lips, laughing softly.

"Shut up," you breathe back, already pulling him in for another kiss. His back hits the closing door with a thud that's definitely too loud for 4 AM, but you're past caring. Past thinking about anything except the way his hands feel sliding up your sides, the way he tastes, the way he's eating you up with his eyes.

Emma's definitely going to murder you tomorrow. But with the way his fingers are digging into your hips, the way he's kissing you like he's trying to crawl inside your skin?

What-fucking-ever.

He pushes off the door like a man on a mission, and suddenly you're airborne—your legs wrapping around his waist on pure instinct. And okay, that's hot. The way he lifts you like you weigh nothing, the solid press of his body against yours, the little growl he makes when your hips roll against his.

"Room?" His voice is wrecked already, breath hot against your mouth between kisses that make your head spin.

You gesture vaguely toward Emma's guest room, too busy mapping the muscles of his shoulders to form actual words. He exhales sharply against your lips, already moving. Your jackets become casualties somewhere in the hallway, dropped with fumbling hands and zero grace because yeah, the vodka's definitely hitting now. Everything's warm and hazy and electric, your skin buzzing everywhere he touches.

Then you're falling backward onto the bed, and holy fuck. The way he's looking down at you—like he's been lost in the desert and you're a fucking oasis—it makes your breath catch in your throat. Makes heat pool low in your belly, makes your thighs press together in anticipation.

His shirt comes off in one fluid motion and—

Jesus fucking Christ.

You've seen attractive guys before. You've seen gym bros and athletes and the whole spectrum of male bodies. But this? This is like someone took Michelangelo's David and decided to make him real but better. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin, but with just enough softness to make him touchable. Human. Perfect.

And his chest—god, his chest. It's not the rock-hard wall of muscle you'd expect from someone who looks like that. Instead, there's this ideal balance of firm and soft, creating the most magnificent set of man tiddies you've ever laid eyes on. The kind you could actually cuddle up to without feeling like you're resting on concrete. The kind that would make a flawless pillow after—

Your lusty brain stops working as he leans down, pressing his hips deliberately against yours as his mouth finds your neck. His tongue traces patterns on your skin that make you arch up against him, desperate for more contact.

"Fuck," he breathes against your throat, nosing along your pulse point. "You smell so good. Like vanilla and..." He inhales deeply, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. "Like something sweet I wanna taste."

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the play of muscles under warm skin. He's perfectly balanced above you, using just enough of his weight to make you feel deliciously pinned without crushing you. You fucking love it. Don’t know why, don’t know how. Maybe it's just how attractive he is, or the heat of his mouth on your neck, or the press of his body against yours or the way he keeps making these little sounds like he can't help himself.

He's kissing you again before your vodka-soaked brain can process anything beyond rudimentary want, primal need. It's all heat and tongue and teeth, messy and perfect in the way only drunken hookups can be. One of his hands slides up your neck, fingers spreading across your throat. Not squeezing, just...resting.

It's fucking electric.

Your hands map the expanse of his back, nails dragging lightly in a way that makes him groan into your mouth. He's all smooth skin and sinewy muscle, hot to the touch and absolutely unfair. No one should be allowed to feel this good. To make you feel this good, just by existing.

He drags his mouth down your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tight enough to make him hiss. Which is hot. Way too hot, because that noise? It immediately spirals straight between your thighs.

And fuck, how he grinds down against you in response. It's obscenely filthy, the perfect pressure in just the right spot to make you want to moan aloud. To be shameless.

"Fuck," he breathes against your skin, and you feel it more than hear it. Feel the heat of his breath, the barely restrained want in the way he's touching you. "You feel so fucking good."

Your hips roll up to meet his in a way that's purely instinctual. Because yeah, he feels good too. Better than good. You feel the maddening length of him grinding against you through his jeans; his hand around your neck and—god, you want to claw his back, to wrap your legs around his waist and just take.

The hand on your neck flexes just slightly, thumb brushing your jawline and you think you die just a little because hello? You like that. You really, really fucking like that. New kink unlocked, it seems.

"Want you," he murmurs, voice low and rough with arousal. "Want you so fucking bad, you have no idea."

And oh, you do. You really, really do. Because wanting him is all you can think about right now. All you can focus on beyond the thrumming of your heart, the aching throb between your thighs. You want his hands, his mouth, his—

"Off," you manage, tugging at his jeans with clumsy fingers. "These need to come off like, yesterday."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest into yours. "So fucking bossy."

But he's already leaning back, already working on his fly as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch. And Jesus Christ, the way he looks right now—shirtless and disheveled, dark hair falling into darker eyes, lips red from your kisses—it's unfair. Unreal.

So fucking hot you think you might actually die if he doesn't touch you again in the next ten seconds.

His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud and holy fuck—the sight of him in just black boxer briefs should be illegal in at least forty-eight states. Like, someone call the police because this? This is absolutely criminal. The way the fabric clings to his thighs, the obvious bulge that makes your mouth water—

But then he's on you again, and thinking becomes a foreign concept.

His hands find the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up with an urgency that makes heat pool between your legs. You arch up to help him, already anticipating the slide of fabric over skin, but—

Oh.

The second the dress clears your elbows, he presses down. Uses the fabric to pin your arms above your head, effectively trapping you against the mattress. And that's... that's...

Fuck.

His mouth is suddenly on your breast, hot and wet and absolutely perfect. No hesitation, no teasing—just the wet slide of his tongue over your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, and holy shit.

Thank god you wore this dress. Thank every fucking deity that you chose the tight red one that doesn’t need a bra, because the feeling of his mouth directly on your skin is absolutely devastating.

A moan tears from your throat—embarrassingly loud in the quiet room—as his teeth graze sensitive flesh. His responding groan vibrates through your chest, sending shivers down your spine. Your back arches instinctively, pressing more firmly into his mouth as his tongue swirls around your peaked nipple.

His free hand finds your throat again, and—

Oh god.

His fingers spread wide, applying the slightest pressure. Testing. Exploring. Like he's curious about your reaction, about the way he feels your heartbeat flutter faster in response.

You can't help the soft sound that escapes you—somewhere between a whimper and a moan. His grip tightens fractionally in response, and your cunt clenches around nothing. Because fuck, that shouldn't be as hot as it is. The way he's controlling your breath, the way he's holding you down, the way his mouth is absolutely ruining you one suck at a time...

"Sensitive," he murmurs against your skin, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. His thumb strokes along your jugular, feeling the way your breath hitches. "Wonder what other sounds I can get that pretty throat to make."

You'd have a snappy comeback for that. You know you would. But then he's switching to your other breast, teeth scraping just right, and coherent thought becomes a distant memory. All you can focus on is the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pressure of his hand on your throat, the way he's using his other hand to keep you pinned against the bed.

And maybe it's the situation, or maybe it's just him, but you've never been this turned on in your life. Never been this wet, this desperate, this needy. It should be embarrassing really—the way you're practically writhing beneath him, the way every little touch sends electricity sparking through your veins.

But with the way he's groaning against your skin, the way his hips keep grinding against yours like he needs it? Maybe you're not the only one that’s losing sanity here.

His teeth catch your nipple just as his fingers flex against your throat, and the combination pulls a sound from you that you didn’t even know you could make. High and breathy and absolutely wrecked.

"Fuck," he breathes, hot against your wet skin. "The sounds you make..."

His thumb brushes over your throat again, slower this time, before gliding up. Along the underside of your jaw. Pausing at your bottom lip. He applies the slightest pressure, watching as your mouth falls open on instinct. You're not sure whether you breathe or whimper, but it makes his gaze go impossibly darker, makes his hips roll against yours in response.

And then his thumb is there, pressing against your tongue, and—goddamn him—you're sucking without a second thought. The groan he lets out is a shattered thing, low and guttural, as though he's just as wrecked as you.

For three glorious seconds, he just... freezes. Like his brain's temporarily offline, like you've actually managed to short-circuit whatever smooth operator routine he had going.

And okay, maybe that gives you enough time to yank the dress out the rest of the way, tossing it off your bent elbows in a way that you hope was sexier than it felt. He doesn’t seem to notice—too busy looking at you like he's forgotten how he got here. Or how to breathe.

Either way, it's a little distracting.

But then he's moving, yanking his hand back like you've scorched him. And before you can even process the loss, he's sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses that make your skin come alive.

Your tipsy brain tries to catch up with what's unfolding—manages to register the flex of his shoulders, the heat of his mouth marking a path down your stomach, the way his hands are suddenly gripping your thighs and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed like you weigh nothing, kneeling between your spread legs like he belongs there. And how he looks up at you through his lashes, mouth hovering just inches from where you're absolutely drenched through your panties...

You prop yourself up on your elbows because fuck if you're missing this show. The movement makes your head spin slightly—reminder that you are definitely not sober—but the sight of him between your thighs is worth any potential vertigo.

His breath fans hot against your core, and your hips twitch involuntarily. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, but before you can call him out on it, he's leaning in. Pressing his open mouth against you through the thin fabric of your underwear, and—

"Fuck."

The word tears from your throat unbidden because holy shit, this shouldn't feel this good already. It's barely anything—just the heat of his mouth, the slight pressure of his tongue through fabric—but your body's lighting up like a fucking supernova. Like every nerve ending is suddenly dialed to a hundred.

Your fingers find his hair without conscious thought, tangling in the dark strands as he works you through your panties. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightens in response, and fuck—that's definitely going to leave marks.

And okay, yeah. Maybe you're embarrassingly wet. Maybe you can feel it soaking through the fabric, making everything slick and messy. Maybe you should care about that, about being this affected this quickly.

But you don’t. Not really, with the way he's groaning against you like he's dying for it. Like he can't get enough. Yeah, dignity can take a backseat.

Besides, all thoughts of pride or shame fly right out the window when he finally, finally hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. Your hips lift automatically, helping him slide them down your legs. They catch on your heels because of course you're still wearing your fuck-me pumps, but he doesn't seem to mind. Just lets the fabric dangle from one ankle as he dives back in, and—

"Holy shit."

His tongue drags up your slit in one long, deliberate stroke, and your brain temporarily stops working. Like, full system shutdown. Windows XP error sound and everything. Because fuck—that shouldn't feel as mindbogglingly good as it does.

Then he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you make this absolutely mortifying noise—some choked little "guh" that would humiliate you if you were sober enough to care. His lip ring adds this extra edge of sensation that makes your thighs quake, cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He makes this sound against you—something between a hum and a growl (and okay, yeah, maybe 'growl' isn't the right word because what are you, fucking animals? But you're drunk and getting your pussy eaten properly for the first time in forever, so vocabulary can fuck right off). Whatever it is, it vibrates through you in a way that has your hips jerking up, seeking more.

Then he's doing these small, slow circles around your clit. So. Fucking. Slow. Like he wants to drive you crazy, wants you to fucking writhe against him. You try not to just grind up against his face. Because that would be desperate, right? That would be—

Damn.

The circles suddenly get faster, tighter, more intense. His tongue flicking over your clit with the kind of speed and precision that would put Fast & Furious to shame. And the sounds coming out of your mouth? Yeah, those aren't even words anymore. Just a stream of "oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck."

If Emma’s home—because it’s probably been an hour already—she’s probably getting one hell of a show through these paper-thin walls. But you know what? She fucking owes you. All those times you covered for her sneaking out to Bobby Martinez's house in high school? Yeah, consider this payback with interest.

He drags his tongue back down, gathering your wetness (and okay, yeah, you're basically flooding at this point but whatever), then slides back up. Adding texture to his movements like some kind of oral sex virtuoso. Because apparently this stranger knows exactly what he's doing with that mouth, and honestly? Good for you. You deserve this. You deserve to have your pussy eaten by someone who treats it like a goddamn art form.

So you lean back, let yourself enjoy it. Let him explore and taste and fuck—the way he's absolutely feasting on you like you're his last meal. His tongue finds your clit again, and this time he sucks it into his mouth, and the sound that rips from your throat probably violates noise ordinances in several states.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you are absolutely obscene. Like, pornographic-level obscene. All sucking and slurping and Jesus fucking Christ, you should not find that as hot as you do. But with your stiletto digging into his back (when did that happen?) and his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints...

Yeah. Yeah, definitely hot.

Then his tongue drags down, down, down—and fuck, you can feel every ridge, every texture against your sensitive flesh. He reaches your entrance and just... circles it. Like he's mapping you out. Like he’s thinking about his next move.

Five blessed seconds where you can actually catch your breath. Where your brain starts to come back online and—

Fuck.

His tongue plunges into you without warning and your hand definitely just yanks out some of his hair but who fucking cares because his nose is nudging your clit while he tongue-fucks you and—and—

And your brain's offline again. Good talk.

He adjusts his arms, somehow pulling you even closer to his face. As if you weren't already basically smothering him. As if he literally wants to drown in your cunt. And that thought shouldn't be as scorching hot as it is but holy shit.

A moan tears from your throat—loud enough that Emma's probably googling noise complaint laws right now. But you can feel it building, that telltale tightening, that electric tension spreading through your core. Your clit's throbbing in time with your racing pulse and—

And he doesn't change a thing.

Because this guy? This absolute genius between your legs? He knows better than to pull that amateur hour bullshit where they speed up right when you're close. No, he maintains the exact same rhythm, the exact same pressure that got you here. Like he's done this before. Like he actually pays attention to what works.

(And okay, maybe you shouldn't be thinking about his past experience right now but your brain's kind of shorting out so whatever.)

Your stiletto digs deeper into his shoulder—might actually be drawing blood at this point but he doesn't seem to care one iota. If anything, he groans against you like he's getting off on it. Like pain turns him on. And that's...that's definitely something to stash away for later.

Or never. Because this is a one-time thing. Right. Focus.

Except focusing is basically impossible when he's eating you out like it's his actual job. When the pressure's building and building and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Your back arches off the bed like you're auditioning for America's Next Top Model: After Dark Edition. The orgasm hits you like a riptide, waves of pleasure so intense your vision actually whites out for a second. Your thighs clamp around his head, heel probably leaving permanent marks on his back, and you're definitely making sounds that would make a porn star blush but—

But holy shit.

His tongue flicks over your oversensitive clit one last time—the absolute bastard—and your whole body jerks as you whimper. Which, okay, definitely earned that one. Because holy fuck.

You slump back against the bed, bones liquified, as he prowls up your body. His hands plant on either side of your face and—wow, okay, up close he's even more unfairly beautiful. All sharp jawline and scorching eyes and lips that are literally glistening with...yeah.

"You taste exactly like you smell," he murmurs, and what kind of weird-ass compliment is that? Like, thanks? Good to know your pussy matches your perfume brand?

Except...it kind of works? Something tingles in your face and no. Absolutely not. You are not getting all swoony just because Hot Stranger is saying vaguely poetic shit during sex. This is just your horny lizard brain going 'hot man say words, neurons go brr.' That's all.

Then his mouth is on your neck and—yeah, okay, thinking is canceled anyway. His hands trace maddening patterns down your stomach, feather-light touches that make your muscles jump. And when he tugs his briefs down, his cock springs free and—

Oh.

Well then.

Your body apparently didn’t get the memo about the standard refractory period because hello, Round Two suddenly seems very appealing. It hasn’t even been five minutes since you came but here you are, already clenching around nothing like some kind of sex-starved teenager.

He leans back slightly, reaching for something and—ah. His jeans. More specifically, his wallet. From which he produces not one but multiple condoms, and honestly? We love a prepared king. Nothing hotter than a guy who practices safe sex without having to be asked.

(And yes, you're literally evaluating his sexual responsibility while naked and still tingling from one of the best orgasms of your life. Sue you.)

He grabs one condom and tosses the others somewhere on the bed. Then—because apparently he's auditioning for some porno-meets-action-movie hybrid—he puts the wrapper between his teeth. Locks eyes with you. Rips it open.

And okay, PSA time: Kids (not that any kids should be reading this, what the fuck brain?)—this is not how you open condoms. Use your fingers like a normal person, not your teeth like some kind of sexual menace. That's literally Condom Safety 101.

But then again, when a guy this stupid hot does literally anything, your brain just kind of... accepts it. Like yeah, sure, demolish that condom wrapper with your teeth while maintaining smoldering eye contact. That's normal. That's fine. You're fine.

He gives the condom a cursory check (okay, at least he's being thorough), pinches the tip between his fingers and you just... watch. Wait.

"You gonna fuck me tomorrow or...?" The words slip out before your self-censor can nab them, biting and teasing.

Bad choice.

His hand—his stupidly large, stupidly warm hand—wraps around your thigh and yanks you down the bed in one fluid motion. And why the fuck is that so hot? Why are you noticing how his fingers practically span your whole thigh? Why is the heat of his palm against your skin making your breath catch?

Your eyes flicker back to his cock and—oh. When did he even get the condom on? You must have missed that while you were having your crisis about his hands. But he's ready now, thick and hard and—

Fuck.

He pushes in with one swift motion and your body just... takes him. Like you're literally eager for it, still slick and open from his mouth. He makes this soft gasping sound like he's actually dying, like your cunt is some kind of religious experience.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, hips flush against yours. "So fucking slippery and warm, feels like silk—"

"That's—ah—what happens when you eat someone out properly," you manage, even as your walls flutter around him. Because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit, even with a dick inside you.

His laugh is rough, breathless.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

And fuck—the way he says it, like a promise, like a threat. Your cunt clenches at the thought and he actually growls.

He pushes your thighs down against the mattress and—ow. Okay, that's definitely going to hurt tomorrow. Future You is probably already plotting Present You's murder, adding your name to some karmic hit list right next to Emma’s (who, let’s be real, is definitely contemplating homicide through these paper-thin walls right now).

But then he starts moving and—oh.

Oh fuck.

Every coherent thought evaporates because he's burying himself so deep you swear he's trying to carve out a permanent place inside you. Like he wants your body to remember exactly how he feels, wants to leave an impression that'll last long after tonight.

You didn’t even get a proper look at his size earlier (too busy fizzing over his hands, his mouth, literally everything else), but holy shit. What you do know is he's thick—like, properly thick. Every inch of him pressed against your walls like he's trying to eliminate any space between you, like he's mapping out your insides for future reference.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, and you actually feel him twitch inside you. "So fucking—"

"Less talking," you manage to gasp out, "more moving."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "As you wish."

He snaps his hips once—testing, exploring—and your breath hitches in your throat. Then again. And again. Quick thrust in, torturously slow pull out, and every single time has you gasping like some Victorian maiden with a too-tight corset.

"Like that?" He sounds way too smug for someone balls-deep in a stranger. "The way you squeeze me every time I—"

"You always this chatty during sex?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. "Or am I just special?"

Another snap of his hips that makes your eyes roll back. "Maybe I just like the sounds you make when I'm inside you."

And fuck—why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You're still so wet from earlier that you can hear it, can feel how smoothly he glides in and out, nice and easy.

"You're certainly—ah—confident," you manage between thrusts, because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit. "Compensating for something?"

His grip on your thighs tightens. "Want me to stop and let you check?"

"Don’t you fucking dare."

His pace quickens and—oh hello, is that a smirk he's biting back? It is. It absolutely fucking is. And your brain, your stupid, traitorous brain, finds that scorching. Because of course it does. You squint your eyes shut because you can’t deal with how cocky he looks right now, can’t process how that cockiness is actually doing it for you.

Congratulations, you've officially lost it. This is your villain origin story. Death by dick-induced insanity. They'll write case studies about you in Psychology Today: "Local Woman's Brain Melts Because Hot Stranger Has Good Dick Game." Your mother would be so proud.

But also? Also shut the fuck up, brain, because you're literally getting the best dick of your life right now so maybe save the self-reproach for later? Like, there's a time and place for your characteristic overthinking and this ain’t it.

He leans forward then, changing the angle as he chases your mouth, and holy fuck. Each thrust goes deeper, harder, faster—like he's trying to reach parts of you no one else has touched. His kiss is messy, all tongue and teeth and desperation, and you're actually whimpering into his mouth like some kind of—

Wait.

Hold the fucking phone.

Since when do you whimper? What is this, some kind of Harlequin romance novel? Are you secretly the protagonist of a Fabio-covered paperback? Because you don’t whimper. You don’t make these soft, needy little sounds into strange men’s mouths. That’s not your brand. That’s not—

But then he rolls his hips in this way that makes you see actual fucking stars, and okay, you know what? Fuck your brand. Fuck everything. Because the way he's moving? The way he's filling you up like you're some kind of horny piñata? Yeah, that takes precedence over your identity crisis.

And speaking of crises—why does this feel so fucking good? Like, mathematically speaking, dick is dick. It's basic anatomy. Tab A into Slot B. So why does every thrust feel like he's rewriting the laws of physics? Why does your body respond to him like he's got some kind of sexual Midas touch?

The worst part? The absolute worst part? You can feel another orgasm building already. Which is ridiculous. Impossible. You literally came like ten minutes ago. This man hasn’t even finished once and here you are, ready to go again like some kind of horny Energizer bunny.

You need to have a serious conversation with your pussy about standards and expectations. Like, what happened to the refractory period? What happened to playing hard to get? Because this? This instant response to everything he does? This eager little flutter every time he hits that spot just right?

This is just embarrassing.

But also really, really fucking good.

"You take my cock so fuckin' well," he groans against your neck, voice rough and slurred. "Like y'were made for it, so perfect—"

And okay, what kind of porn dialogue bullshit is that? Who actually says things like that during sex? More importantly, why is it working? Why does every filthy word from his mouth send electricity shooting straight to your cunt?

"Hnnngh—"

That's it. That's all you can manage because your brain-to-mouth filter is totally fried. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he hits that spot just right, and you're pretty sure you're leaving marks but whatever. Future Him problems.

"F-fuck, how you clench around me when I say shit like that," his words come out breathless, hitching. "Like hearing how good you feel? How tight and wet and fucking flawless—"

"Shut up." But it comes out more like a whine than a command, completely undermining any attempt at snark. Your walls flutter around him traitorously, and his responding groan vibrates through your whole body.

"Make me," he challenges, punctuating it with a particularly vicious thrust that has your eyes rolling back. "Or maybe you don't want me to? Maybe you secretly get off on—fuck—on hearing how amazing you are, how nobody's ever swallowed me this deep before—"

"Nghh—" Your brain's offline. Completely fucking offline. No thoughts, head empty, just the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside you, the heat of his breath against your neck, the absolute filth falling from his lips.

"S'true though," he pants, pace growing erratic. "Never felt anything like this, like your—oh fuck—"

A moan tears from your throat—loud and wanton and utterly mortifying. But you can't help it, not when he's fucking you like he's trying to ruin you for anyone else, not when he keeps saying these things that make your insides turn to molten lava.

"That's it, lemme hear you," he encourages, and you want to punch him for how smug he sounds but you also want him to never stop. "Love the sounds you make when I'm deep in this pussy, when I—shit—"

His voice catches as you deliberately tighten around him, a small victory that makes you smirk despite how your body's on fire.

"Fuck, you're evil."

"You talk too much," you manage to get out between gasps, even as your hips chase his rhythm desperately. You're close—so fucking close—but not quite there.

He laughs against your neck, the sound dark and promising.

“Touch yourself for me."

When you don't immediately comply—because for some reason you still want to challenge him—he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

"Rub that pretty clit, show me how you like it."

The command in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Make me," you challenge, because apparently your mouth has a death wish.

"Oh?"

His rhythm slows to something torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. "Do I need to show you where it is? Guide those lovely fingers myself?"

You're about to snark back when his hand slides between your bodies, and—oh. Oh.

"Found it," he says with infuriating smugness, circling your clit with practiced ease. Your whole body jerks at the contact, oversensitive and desperate. "Seems like I know exactly where it is. Don't I?"

"Fuck—" Your voice breaks as he applies just the right amount of pressure, the bastard. "You're so—nghh—"

"I'm so what?" He's grinning now, you can hear it in his voice even as you squeeze your eyes shut. "C'mon, tell me. Use your words."

"Insufferable," you grit out, but your body betrays you, arching into his touch. "Arrogant—ah—asshole—"

"Maybe." His fingers speed up, matching the pace of his thrusts, and holy shit you're going to die. "But I'm an arrogant asshole who's about to make you cum again, aren't I?"

He's right and you hate it. Hate how well he reads your body, hate how he found your clit without hesitation like he's got some kind of carnal GPS, hate how fucking good he is at this.

"That's it," he encourages as your breathing hitches, as your nails dig into his shoulders. "Let me feel you fall apart. Wanna feel this cunt clamp down on my cock when you—"

His hips stutter and you can feel him pulsing inside you, even through the condom. The way his whole body tenses, the broken sound he makes against your throat—it pushes you right over the edge. Yeah. Your second orgasm says hi; has you curling your toes against his back, tensing your thighs around him as if he would ever dream of leaving right now.

"Fuck fuck fuck—" You're not even sure which one of you is saying it anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe you're having an out-of-body experience because Jesus Christ.

For a moment, there's just silence. Just breathing. Just the sound of your heart trying to recall its normal cadence. Then he chuckles against your cheek—a low, sated sound that you'll deny remembering tomorrow—and follows it with a quick nip that makes you jolt.

"Fuck, that was good," he breathes, still catching his breath.

"S'alright," you manage, even though your legs are literally jelly and your brain's still rebooting.

He pulls back just enough to quirk an eyebrow at you, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "Just alright?"

"Fishing for compliments?" You raise your own eyebrow, trying to ignore how his hand is still absently stroking your hip. "That's kind of desperate."

"Says the girl who came twice."

And—okay, rude. Accurate, but rude.

He shifts then, carefully pulling out (and at least he's considerate about it, making sure not to hurt you), and starts dealing with the condom. But then he just... stands there. Looking lost. Condom in hand and this adorably bemused expression that makes something in your chest do a weird little flip.

No. Not adorable. Nothing about this guy is adorable. Hot? Yes. Skilled with his tongue? Abso-fucking-lutely. But not adorable. You refuse to find anything about him cute, especially not the way he's glancing around the room like a lost puppy trying to figure out where to—

You can't stifle the snort that escapes you. "Trash can's over there, genius." You gesture with your head toward the small bin by the dresser. "Try not to get lost on the way."

He rolls his eyes but moves across the room, and you definitely don't watch the play of muscles in his back as he walks. Or the way his ass looks in the dim light. Or how his hand rakes through his tousled hair as he leans down to dispose of the condom and—

Fuck.

Fuck.

Because here's the thing: you've had one-night stands before. You know how this goes. Quick fuck, awkward goodbye, never see each other again. That's the routine. That's the protocol. That's what smart, sensible people do.

But.

But you're already thinking about how his mouth felt between your legs. About how he filled you up just right. About how he seemed to know exactly what to do with his hands, his hips, his—

And you know what? Fuck it. Fuck being sensible and sane. Fuck playing it cool. You've got a hot guy with stellar dick game right here, right now. Might as well take advantage while you can.

Before your brain can talk you out of it, you're launching yourself off the bed. Your legs are still a bit wobbly (thanks, Mr. Two Orgasms), but you manage to catch him just as he turns around. Your mouth crashes into his, messy and demanding, as you push him against the wall.

His surprised grunt turns into a pleased hum against your lips, and his hands immediately find your hips like they belong there. Like this is exactly what he was hoping would happen.

Cocky bastard.

He spins you around so fast your head spins—or maybe that's just the lingering vodka. Either way, suddenly your back's hitting the wall and—oh. Okay. This is happening. Again. Because apparently your body doesn't give two shits about being thoroughly fucked already.

His mouth crashes back into yours, hungry and insistent, and it should be gross really—you can taste yourself on his tongue, everything's messy and uncoordinated and frantic. But instead it's just...hot. So fucking hot you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

Then his hands slide down to your thighs and he's lifting you like you weigh zilch (and seriously, what is it with this guy and manhandling? More importantly, why do you like it?). Your legs wrap around his waist automatically, and how his cock twitches against your stomach—already getting hard again—should not make you feel this smug.

"Eager?" you manage to gasp between kisses, because apparently your mouth doesn't know when to quit.

He bites your bottom lip in response, just hard enough to make you whimper (and fuck, there's that sound again, what is wrong with you tonight?). "I’m sorry? Weren’t you the one jumping me?”

"Just felt sorry for you." The words come out breathier than intended as his mouth finds that spot behind your ear. "Standing there looking all lost with your used condom—"

His growl cuts you off, vibrating through his chest into yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat, and—fuck. The way he attacks your neck like he's trying to mark you up, like he wants everyone to know exactly what you've been doing...

Then his mouth finds yours again, swallowing whatever protest you might have made. And it's different this time—sloppier, needier. All clashing teeth and warring tongues and his hands everywhere at once. You're pressed so tightly between him and the wall you can feel every twitch of his muscles, every stuttered breath.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, fingertips trailing fire in their wake, and you're already embarrassingly slick again. Already aching for him like you didn't just have him inside you minutes ago. Your hips roll against him craving friction, and the sound he makes—half groan, half snarl—shoots straight between your legs.

"Condom," you gasp against his mouth. "Need a—"

"Yeah," he breathes, but he doesn't move away. Just keeps kissing you like he's suffocating and you're oxygen, like he can't bear to stop even for a heartbeat. "Yeah, just—fuck, you feel so good—"

Your brain's rapidly disintegrating, especially with the way he keeps grinding against you, the way his mouth keeps doing that to your neck. But you manage to remember: "Bed. Other condoms. On the bed."

He makes this sound of acknowledgment but still doesn't budge, just shifts his hips in a way that has his cock sliding against your clit and—jesus fuck.

"If you don't get a condom right now," you warn, voice embarrassingly unsteady, "I'm going to kill you."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "Such violence."

He practically teleports to the bed—like, Olympic-level sprinting for that condom. It'd be comical, the way he fumbles with the wrapper (apparently Mr. Smooth isn't so smooth when he's desperate), except you're too busy being embarrassingly turned on by his urgency.

You're about to suggest moving to the bed—because your legs are already shaking and wall sex seems ambitious after two orgasms—but—

Holy fuck.

He's got you up against the wall again in one fluid motion, hands gripping your thighs as he lines himself up and—oh god. The sound that rips from your throat as he fills you in one swift thrust is utterly shameful. But the broken "fuck" that falls from his lips? How his whole body shudders as he bottoms out?

Yeah, okay. Maybe worth the mortification.

"Jesus fuck," he breathes against your neck, voice wrecked. "You feel—shit, how do you feel even better than before?"

"Hush it," you gasp, even as your walls flutter around him. "And move."

He laughs, breathless and gritty. "Demanding little thing." But he's already moving, setting a pace that has your head lolling back. "God, you’re even wetter than before, taking me so well—”

"That your professional opinion?" Your attempt at snark falls flat when it comes out as more of a moan. "Done extensive research, have you?"

His hips snap up particularly hard at that. "Never—fuck—never felt anything like this."

And that should be a line. That should be the kind of bullshit guys say during hookups to stroke their own egos. Except the way he says it—all breathless wonder and raw honesty—makes something hot unfurl in your chest.

"Yeah?" It comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. Can’t really care when every thrust is melting honey down your spine. "Prove it."

He makes this sound—half growl, half moan—like he fucking loves your audacity. "Already made you come twice."

"Maybe I was faking."

"Sweetheart, nobody's that good an actress."

And honestly? Fair. But you're not about to admit that, not when he's already so smug about how well he plays your body. Instead, you drag him down for a kiss that's more teeth than finesse, swallowing his groans as his pace gets more erratic.

"F-fuck," he pants against your mouth. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna feel you—"

"Big talk for someone who—ah—hasn't delivered yet."

His responding thrust makes your back arch off the wall. "Jus’ wait."

His hips snap up harder at your challenge, making your head thump back against the wall. And fuck—the way he's moving now, all rough desperation and graceless rhythm. Everything's wet and messy and absolutely filthy, the sounds of skin on skin blending with your breathless moans.

"Still—ah—ah—waiting for that delivery," you manage, even as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Fuckin’—" His breathless laugh is menacing. "Always—fuck—gotta have the last word, don’tcha?”

You'd have a comeback for that, you really would, except he chooses that moment to shift his angle and—holy shit. Because now? Now his pubic bone grinds against your clit every time he moves, every time he thrusts deep inside you. And honestly? Fucking unfair that even his bones know where your clit is.

You can feel him twitching inside you, can tell he's close by the way his breath comes in harsh pants against your neck. And you're almost there too, just need a little more—

But then he's groaning, hips stuttering as he cums. His whole body tenses, pressing you flatter against the wall as he empties into the condom.

And okay, great for him, congratulations, but you were so fucking close.

You tap his back urgently. "Keep goin’."

"What?" He's still catching his breath, forehead pressed against your shoulder. "Gimme a second, ah—I just—"

"I was—right there," you whine (and yes, you're actually whining now, this is what you've been reduced to). "Don't you dare stop."

He lifts his head, looking at you incredulously. "I literally just filled the condom—"

"I don't give a fuck, just move."

And okay, yeah, PSA time number two: This is definitely not safe sex practice. The second a condom's full, it needs to be changed. That's like, Sex Ed 101. But also? Also your clit is throbbing and you were this close to coming and your horny lizard brain has completely taken over.

"Jesus," he breathes, but he's already starting to move again, shallow little thrusts that make your eyes roll back. "You're fucking insatiable."

"Like earlier," you gasp, grinding down against him. "With the… with your hipbone."

He laughs against your neck—a rough, breathless sound that shouldn't be as arousing as it is. "Gotcha."

And he does. Repositions himself, makes sure he’s got exactly the same position he had earlier. His hipbone comes in contact with your clit as he begins thrusting faster again, and fucking yeah, that’s what you needed.

"Fuck, the way you feel," he groans. "So slick and snug and—shit—"

"Shut up shut up shut up—"

Because you can't handle his voice right now, can't deal with how his words make the drowning sensation grow more and more intense by the second. You're so close you can taste it, right on the precipice, just need a little more—

Then he nips at your neck, his tongue flattening against your pulse point. And that's it. You're a goner. Again. For the third time tonight.

Your entire body locks up as bliss courses through, lapping at your core like waves at a shore. Your eyes instinctively close as you relish it in all its intensity, and you're pretty sure you make some kind of mortifying noise but whatever. Three orgasms in, dignity is a distant memory.

He slows his movements gradually, letting you ride it out, and you can feel him softening inside you. Your head drops to his shoulder because keeping it upright seems like way too much effort right now. The residual booze is hitting different after getting thoroughly wrecked—everything soft and fuzzy around the edges.

You vaguely register him checking the condom with his free hand—the other one still supporting your ass because apparently you're not ready to unwrap your legs from his waist yet. Your brain's moving in slow motion, heavy with alcohol and mist and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that only comes from really good sex.

"Hey." He taps your back lightly. "You falling asleep on me? Dick game that good?"

"Die," you mumble into his shoulder, not even bothering to lift your head. "Just... shut up and die."

You hear him chuckle, vaguely. It should be irritating. It isn't. You're too drained to care. Everything's warm and hazy and your limbs feel like they're crafted from lead.

You're only half-aware of him moving you to the bed, of sheets being pulled up, of a warm body pressing against your back. Your consciousness is already drifting, floating in that space between awake and asleep where nothing quite computes.

The last thing you register, right before slumber claims you completely, is his nose pressed against your neck and his drowsy murmur:

“Smell like vanilla now too."

⋆｡°✩ TAGLIST ✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[vxlentinescookies]

Ajax listen,,,,listen to me Ajax-

Self Aware AU, where the cookies come to the player's/reader's world. Pick whichever characters you wanna include, I just need to see this 🙏

→ ❛Part of your world❜

→ Characters ; Longan Dragon Cookie, Burning Spice Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie, Timekeeper Cookie & Millennial Tree Cookie → Quote ; ❛❛If someone came to you and told you “One day you’ll have those who you love the most in the palm of your hand”, well… you never thought that’d become true, nor that it’d be a metaphor…❜❜ → Genre ; Headcanons/Drabble → A/N ; This took me a whole ass night to make and 2500+ words to finish, I hope you like it /lh

Longan Dragon Cookie

“How quaint… to believe someone like you lives in such a… small place”

Having Longan Dragon in your home was… curious to say the least. Not something you expected, yet here you were, with a dragon looking at you as they squatted in your bedroom.

Longan would be hypercritical of the place you lived, noting things like “This looks cheap” or “Its far too small”

Despite that, Longan would be quite intrigued in your life, wanting to see how you worked or what you did, they’d follow you around when not sitting in your living room and meditating.

Nevertheless, they’re there for a reason, they’re with you for a reason, and they’ll make that reason known very, very soon.

It’d take Longan a few months, but eventually, they would come to sit by your side at the table, not sitting down on a chair but instead, sitting down by your side quite literally. They’d stare at you for long moments before finally leaning their head on your shoulder, the weight catching you off guard as you looked at them. 

“... I’ll make sure you live like you deserve one of these days” They’d say, and in that moment, you understood why there had been so many disappearances of delinquents and robbers nearby…

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

One of the few favorite activities of Longan was to read, so much so, that you had to request books from the library more often than not, but with the way Longan was reading them… It had just been a few months, and yet this dragon had consumed almost all of your local library’s books.  So, when they finished reading most of your books, they’d chose to write them. And they’d write about what they saw, about everything they had seen around them, everything they had seen in this new world, and in some sense, it was intriguing to see how a dragon explored the new world they were in, the little things that werent intriguing to you were greatly important to them, in a way that got you even more intrigued by how they saw you.

“... You want to know how I see you?” They’d ask.

You knew fully well that you shouldnt expect much, after all, this was Longan Dragon we were talking about, they werent a kind dragon, they saw cookies as lesser beings, and humans now by extensions, but as you asked them that question, they’d only smile and pat your head softly.

“You’re the reason Im here… Of course I would think highly of you”

A genuine smile, it made your heart flutter as they spoke, a hand going to cup your chin in it.

“You’re interesting, perhaps, one of the most interesting things I’ve seen in this world.”

Besides writing, they’d follow you around and take note of everything you’d do… And by night, they’d curl by your side, taking most of the bed as they allow you to take rest in their chest, as they allow you to take rest in their breaths while their hands thread on your hair.

Burning Spice Cookie

“How intriguing…! Never would I have expected your home to be so… so… erm…”

Another one who seems to heavily judge your house, but also, another one who appears in your home kneeling because it is so small compared to him.

Either way, he gets eased into the ambient quite easily, his search for entertainment leading him to see through everything and all the world has to offer.

Until he… gets bored, again, because your world isnt as different from his (and in some sense, it is… actually… more boring than his old world…)

So, he moves to the next thing closest to him for entertainment!

“Little one, come here” 

He’d call forward to you once, looking at you with dark yet fiery eyes and an everlasting smile, though you knew this once it hid something, after all, despite him coming to your world for x or y reason, it involved you, it always involved you…

“Entertain me” Would be his words once you approached him, his smile becoming only more cryptic as you lifted an eyebrow at his voice. Entertain, him? In what sense or way would you be able to entertain someone akin to a god? 

Seeming to sense your doubt, Burning Spice would only come and hold you from your shirt, lifting you up before staring at you and then…

“Hahahah, you should’ve looked at your face, you really are an interesting one!”

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

Besides seeking something for entertainment, Burning spice is in some sense able to somewhat pass through the crowd, and by that I mean he can somewhat pass as just a very tall human. Nonetheless, between choosing to hit the gym and sending you pictures, he’ll also follow you around, finding even the most monotonous tasks fairly entertaining if it has you in it. Its a weird combo, being outside with a dude in a hoodie and sweat pants following you around while doing groceries, or being in the metro and getting a fairly nice picture of him flexing for you. Burning spice is a menace…

“Aye, welcome home! I took care of some pesky people while you were gone… It was fun hearing their screams…”

…in far more ways than one.

Either way, you two also share a bed, its not like you have a choice with how clingy he can become when sleeping, pulling you in his arms in a heated hug (in the sense that he literally irradiates heat) while snoring loudly, you’ve gotten complaints from neighbors (if you live in an apartment), but somehow… they’ve… they’ve quieted down recently… However, when you ask Burning Spice, he just laughs it off.

Shadow Milk Cookie

“Woowee, what do we have here, sweetheart?”

Not as judgemental of your home, no, for once someone isnt as focused on where you live but…

He is focused on you, looking at you up and down, before hitting his head on the roof of your room, ouch!

He spends most of the days following you around though, using his magic to stay hidden from most people, so much that people may find you crazy for seeing you talk to… nothing!

Either way, much like the others, he’s there for a reason…

“Why Im here?”

You asked Shadow Milk once, after a good few months, what the jester had come to do in your own home. In fact, it perplexed you so much that when you asked him, the feeling seemed to be shared. It was… intriguing to say the least, but he’d only smile before clasping his hands together and saying in a song-esque tune.

“Becuase you’re sooooooooooo interesting, darlin! Just look at you, how could I NOT come here with you?”

Truth to be told, he saw you as who you really were, in some sense he saw you as someone who didnt fall for lies easily, he saw you as someone who saw beyond that and you were… interesting. You were a shot in the dark, and he just had, to have you near.

“You’re so silly, darlin, sososososo silly” He’d add in, patting your head softly as you only smiled and blushed slightly, even while knowing his smile and gaze hid a million of thoughts, and a million of even more ideas.

If you��re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not reading around in your home, or following you to the library to read some books, he’d be looking over your shoulder, reading every single note, watching every single thing you do, it makes him curious, how someone so quaint has him wrapped around your finger. And yet, he cant help but smile at the idea of being just like that, wrapped around your finger in a sweet loving embrace.

He’d be the most romantic of the bunch, the one that makes it the most prominent that he’s there with you because he likes you, he dosent even hide it fully despite his jester-esque persona, he just cant hide it! So, when you ask him about what he was doing one day in the balcony of your apartment, he’d only turn and smile softly.

“Why, I'm recreating one of your world’s theatre plays!” He’d say, and you make a mental note to go to the theatre more often… “And you’ve come just in time, silly (y/n)! I need someone to play dearest Juliet!”

You add that it is a tragic love story, and he only brushes it off, adding in that “actors are actors, sweetheart, now come in and act!” so you do, and you have a fun time doing a monologue to a bunch of people who stay and watch, before claps fill the air.

And when time comes to bed, he’ll be the first to curl up in your bed, curl like a cat who welcomes you into his arms so sweetly, you feel the scent of milk, lactonic as it is, and for once you feel safe.

Timekeeper Cookie

“Well, look what we have here!”

To find Timekeeper in your home means to have done something either right or wrong. In your case, its right.

They’re very much curious about everything from the things you do on a daily basis to your home and how electronics work.

Still, and much like some others in this list, they become quickly bored about it, choosing to focus on you as main form of entertainment

Still, you can expect certain shenanigans to ensue.

It was late at night when it happened, just as you were playing when a portal opened and dragged you inside of it. You were scared shitless that much is true but, when you saw the person who dragged you in, you simply could sigh in slight annoyance.

“What? Cant I drag my favorite person in for some fun?” They’d say with that ever present smile, Timekeeper chuckling as she smiled widely at you, before noticing… “Oh, right, it is night where you’re from, guess I took you out at the wrong time!”

You huffed and yawned, before sitting up and looking at your phone… Right, it didnt exactly work when in time rifts, but then again that raised the question, why did they bring you here to begin with? As if being presented with the question loud and clear, they’d clear her throat and speak yet again.

“I simply wanted to see you, nothing wrong with that now?” They’d say quite mischievously, picking you up and bringing you into her lap “Go on, lets- Hm?”

You’d fall asleep into her arms as soon as she picked you up, your calm quiet face being shown to her as you were held in her arms. Well, guess fun had to wait.

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

Much like the others, they also enjoy reading, however, they focus on reading about engineering and mechanics, more so about the mechanics of your world to see if they’re any different from the ones of her world. To say there isnt much difference is but an understatement, there was a hefty amount of difference counting the technology from the TBD was far more advanced, but, even then, you’d be able to get the timekeeper intrigued by the nature of your world.

“Tell me more about your world, c’mon!” They’d ask one day, floating from a time rift as you cooked dinner. 

Unlike the others Timekeeper wasnt keen on staying in one place, still finding comfort in being inside time rifts most of the time, though they still visited you more often than not, more often than other places. Seeing them you’d ask her what she wanted to know, to which she’d hum before saying.

“Anything, I dont really find it entertaining seeing it myself—Explain your world to me yourself, doll!”

So when night comes after a long day chatting, it is you who clings to her softly, as she watches you sleep cozily by her side. She smiles and pats your head, because as much as she’d prefer to fade into a time rift, she knows she cant let you go so easily, no. Not when you finally showed her happiness.

“Interesting, this place is… quite interesting…”

Seeing someone as tall as Millennial Tree in your home is but a piece of the whole puzzle. You are dumbfounded but in some sense, seeing them kneel to greet you is almost laughable.

He’s big, very tall and a gentle giant overall, and it shows when he holds your hand and tells you that your world is interesting to him.

He’s just as curious as everyone else, looking at everything, looking at everyone, he’s curious about you, curious about your world, yet he knows it’d be dangerous to leave on his own.

So, you take him to the forest, planing on leaving him go but…

“I dont want to leave you alone…”

He’d speak with conviction, looking at you as your eyes widened and your face dropped. Just what you feared would happen. He’d hold your hands together, looking at you with some concern before smiling softly, kissing both of your palms.

“I came here for a reason, that much I know, and I know that reason is within you… Allow me to stay by your side, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it worth it.”

You have no power in you to say no, to turn down his offer after his gentle and sweet words, that day you realized that perhaps he did come to your world for a reason, a world so clad in evil and pain…

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not travelling nor reading, he’s at home with you, cooking or revisiting each place he has gone to to help. He’s become… a sort of Messiah, you cant help it, become public enemy no.1 to some, and a savior to others, it truly depended on who you were asking. Your gaze would follow his as he trailed on a book you both were reading before he’d lean and kiss your forehead, things were… easy, happy with him there… You felt much happier.

“Is something the matter, sapling?” He’d ask, his gentleness carrying over to his voice as he hummed at your words saying it was nothing, but he knew better, still, he wouldnt push. “Are you perhaps tired?”

You pouted slightly before nodding, yes, you were quite tired, but you didnt want to admit to it. Still, he’d nod before moving the book to the side and lifting you into his arms. He’d carry you to your shared bedroom, careful on his way there before setting you on the bed with him, cozily, softly, carrying you to him as he pressed his lips on your forehead and your body to his.

“Sleep well, sunshine” He’d say, brushing hairs off your face before speaking again “Thank you for accepting me into your world…”

Honestly, how could you not at this point? With that thought in your head… You fell asleep.

[thottieonline]

PENN’S HOTTEST VIRGIN

LUIGI MANGIONE X VIRGIN! FEM READER

IN WHICH — Reader goes to her first Frat Party at Phi Kappa Psi, partying with Frat President Luigi Mangione.

WARNINGS — SMUT!! Porn with a Plot! Minors DNI!

CONTAINS — Loss of Virginity (Duh), Religious themes, PinV! Oral (Fem! Receiving), Praise! Blasphemy — we knew it was coming. Reader wears glasses (a bit self indulgent, lol)

NOTES — So. Much. Dirty. Talk. Luigi’s a little rough but we love it! Like this is just straight PORN I’m so sorry!! Anyways, this is my first smut on Tumblr, so excited to be here!

To Y/N, it seemed that it was a social norm to have had sexual experiences or have been in a relationship, especially by your second year in one of the biggest party schools in the country — So how was it possible someone as beautiful as Y/N could remain untouched?

She knew her male peers gawked at her and shamelessly spoke about her whenever she walked by, often hearing the things they wanted to do to her in passing, ultimately sending shivers down her spine.

She was innocent, not stupid.

Considering she came from a family devoted to their Catholic faith, they had tried their best to shield her from a life of “sin.” However, as she grew older, she started to question her religion.

Would I really go to hell for doing this? If I wasn’t meant to be doing this, why does it feel so good?

Those questions eventually lead her to make more impulsive decisions. After all, you’re only twenty in one of the biggest party schools once.

Ask for forgiveness, not permission — The voice of her roommate Blair spoke into her head. Blair being her voice of unreason, she encouraged her to be more wild, thus leading to them getting ready for a frat party at one a.m on a Tuesday.

“B, you still haven’t told me what frat we’re going to.” Y/N yelled over Blair’s loud music, Blair only sparing a glance at her and refocused on her hair. “We’re going to Kappa.”

Phi Kappa Psi was one of UPenn’s biggest frat houses, gaining a reputation for throwing the wildest parties on campus, competing with other frat houses on who could garner the most attention, in-campus and off-campus.

Other Fraternities pale in comparison to Phi Kappa as they miss one important element — Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione managed to make a name for himself as a fourth year student, making a lasting impression on his fellow peers and professors. Being exceptionally gifted in Computer Science, Robotics, and Charisma — Mangione had the respect of everyone around him in the palm of his hand.

Mangione being five-foot-eleven, athletic and intelligent with unruly curly hair and a smile to die for — It was simple, really. Every man wanted to be him, while every girl prayed for the opportunity to be the next one he took to bed.

She was no exception — though she never voiced her desires out loud. Y/N often imagined his lips trailing down her neck, his lips creating a suction on her sensitive skin, sucking on her vanilla lotioned skin to the point of bruising.

God only knew how much she wanted to be marked up by him. Her virgin mind constantly thought about sex, but she couldn’t think about anyone else but him. No one else had her attention like he did and that was exactly how she liked it.

She only thought about Luigi fucking her to the point where she cried, her pussy being used and overfilled with his cum. She’d imagine him continuing to fuck her after she lost count of how many times she came, the glasses she normally wore on her face were nowhere to be found.

Y/N imagined Luigi calling her his perfect slut, praising her ability to take all of him like a champ.

“God it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?”

“Such a good fucking slut for me, N/N.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Let me see you.”

Just the thought of him made her thighs clench together. Luigi was the only one she would ever let fuck raw. She needed to feel all of him, every inch and every vein of his Italian cock. She wanted Luigi to ruin her for other men, fucking her so good to the point all she can remember is his name.

It’d be even better for her to wake up to such a deliciously painful reminder of him when she’s hardly able to walk the next morning.

“Okay, I’m done.” Blair spoke, quickly snapping Y/N back to reality. She looked at her roommate, seeing she had finished getting ready for the night.

Since it was a frat party, Y/N and Blair were dressed in simple yet sexy outfits— Y/N opting for a black tank top, pairing them with denim shorts that were tight on her ass and her beat up sneakers.

She’d done her hair hours ago, opting to go straight, putting her trust onto the anti-humidity products she put in her hair to last all night.

“Bitch you look so good.” She smiled, Blair giving her a full 360 of her outfit. “Thank you, baby.” Blair smiled at her compliment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get fucked tonight, looking all sexy.” Blair teased, making Y/N roll her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So what if I am?” She challenged, half-jokingly.

Blair squealed, “She’s finally coming out of her shell! Took almost two years but we’re here.” She quickly wrapped her arms around Y/N. “C’mon, let’s get you fucked up tonight!”

Before she knew it, Y/N had stepped foot onto Kappa grounds, already trashed with red solo cups and a couple of passed out partygoers on the front yard — It looked like a scene straight out of Project X.

Careful to not step on those passed out on the grass, Y/N and Blair made it to the front door, pathetically guarded by one of the seemingly drunk pledges. “Damn, looking good mamis.”

The two giggled at the slurred voice of the young man, “You two on the list?” He asked. Before Y/N could open her mouth, Blair already began talking to him.

“Not really, but I think you can make an exception for tonight?” Blair flirted, placing her manicured hand on his bicep, giving the young man false hope of something happening later on.

“Fuck,” He uttered under his breath. “Yeah, you two can come in. Enjoy, ladies.” He stepped out of the way, letting Y/N and Blair come through.

“You gotta teach me how to do that.” Y/N chuckled. “It was like you didn’t have to try at all.”

“Y/N, please, you can totally do that. You just overthink things too much. You didn’t see how he was looking at you at the door?” Blair chuckled. “Now, let’s get you some liquid courage — God knows how much you need it.”

With that, Blair took Y/N’s hand and led her to the dining room, where the infamous Kappa jungle juice was placed. Blair poured herself and Y/N a full cup — the combination of the sweet cranberry juice and the unforgiving strong scent of liquor nearly sent her to a drunken state.

Out of habit, she did a silent prayer before she downed her drink.

“Fuck, that’s strong.” She groaned to herself, the bitter taste of the liquor lingering on her tongue. Y/N pushed herself to drink more — It wouldn’t be a complete first frat party experience without getting shitfaced drunk.

Blair giggled at the sight, “I’ll be right back, N/N. Stay here, ‘Kay?”

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, acknowledging her. She continued to drink, silently praying once more to get her through the unforgiving taste of the drink in her cup.

God, if you let me get through this, I promise you—

“Yeah, I’d say the prayer is totally necessary.” A deep voice spoke close to her, interrupting her moment with the man upstairs. Y/N turned her head to the side out of curiosity and there he stood less than a foot away — Luigi fucking Mangione smirking at her.

“Say, were you also raised catholic or was that for dramatics?” He teased, making her blush as she looked down at her feet before looking up at him again.

“Definitely both.” Y/N laughed, her free hand playing with her gold cross necklace that laid nicely on her chest.

Luigi’s gaze flickering from her eyes onto her necklace. He admired how the gold cross complimented her glistened skin. The last piece of Y/N’s devotion to God contrasting with the less-than-holy outfit she had on drove him insane.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She spoke, the liquor giving her the courage to introduce herself — something she could’ve never imagined doing stone cold sober. The sound of her voice made him flicker his gaze from her chest onto her eyes, decorated with her signature frames.

He smirked to himself before telling her — “I know who you are, pretty. I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” With that, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his, her heart racing faster with just a simple touch.

“You do?” She questioned.

Mangione was two years above her and to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any classes together. It was a really big school, after all.

“You don’t know?” He asks, taking in how her eyes glimmered with curiosity as she shook her head. “You’ve seriously never seen the Penn Crush page on Facebook?”

“You know, I don’t really use Facebook like that — So, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She smiles, watching him pull out his phone to look up the infamous Penn Crushes page on his screen.

A few seconds pass by and there she was — Y/N L/N all in her glory. She scrolled through his screen, seeing the countless pictures taken of random students that deemed was submitted to the page — yet a lot of those pictures were of her.

There was one picture of her taken from afar where she sat on a random bench, presumably waiting for her next class, and there was another one that she recalled Blair taking a picture and uploaded on her Instagram story. It must’ve been screenshot and submitted as she saw the amount of likes on the post.

She continued to scroll until she saw one post where the caption immediately grabbed her attention —

Penn’s Hottest Virgin, Y/N L/N in a throwback post with the Penn Catholic Service Association. It’s great knowing she’s kept her promise! #virginityrocks

“Oh My God.” Y/N laughs at the post. She recalled joining PCSA when she first came to the school to have an outlet where she could be with others like herself.

She’d thought it’d be a good way to stay connected to her religion while forming new friendships, becoming a dedicated member of the association and getting involved with her community.

Y/N recalled the event from the post as she had to prepare a speech on why it was important to her to keep her promise to God to maintain her purity. At the time, she didn’t mind that people knew if she was a virgin — It was the whole point of the speech!

However, as time passed on and she had since left the association, it was definitely something that she wouldn’t have shared now, nearly two years later.

She read through the comments, barely processing the countless amounts of praise she received unbeknownst to her. “I didn’t think I was on anyone’s radar,” She joked, “Especially as the hottest virgin.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a fan favorite.” He told her, not before he pulled her impossibly closer. “Have you kept your promise?” He teased, seeing the almost immediate effect he had on her.

She didn’t know if it was the combination of the crowded room they were in with the liquor or the fact that Mangione’s lips were on her ear, asking a question that sounded so innocent, yet so filthy.

The heat rising in her body was getting too much. Y/N felt his hazel eyes following her every move, from the way she subtly pushes up her glasses to the way she clenches her thighs together to relieve the ache in between her legs.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, “But, I think I wanna break it.”

“You do?” He cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear. Luigi knew she wanted him as bad as he did, but he needed those words to come out of her mouth.

She bit her lip, holding back her words for the last time. “I want you to take my virginity.”

With that, he put down his cup on the remaining space on the counter, taking her hand in his and leading her up to his room.

The hallways were completely closed off. It was quiet, a complete one-eighty of the chaos that ensued everywhere else. Luigi unlocked his room, holding the door open for her as she entered what she would describe as the closest thing to heaven.

Y/N turned around to see him close the door and without hesitation, he pulled her by her waist and placed his soft, plump lips onto hers, starting her off slow and sensual — It was the perfect first kiss, she thought, but she knew the slow pace wasn’t going to be enough.

She wanted him so fucking bad, wanting to prove to him that she could take it like the good fucking girl she is. She’d been waiting for him all this time and she couldn’t let it go to waste. Y/N pulled him impossibly closer to her as she began to channel her insatiable desire for him, Mangione following suit.

His hands trailed from her waist and latched onto her hips, fueled by desire as he backed her onto his mattress, their bodies creating a soft thud on the bed. Never breaking the kiss, Luigi ground himself onto her denim shorts, making her moan into the kiss.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” She whimpered, breaking away from their kiss. He was orally fixated on her, his lips continuing their delicious assault on her sensitive skin.

“Gonna mark you up real nice, baby.” He uttered, eliciting a moan from her in response. “You like that, hm? You wanna be marked up by me?”

“So fucking bad.” He smirked at her confession, placing his lips back onto her neck and trailed down to her belly button. His strong hands roughly pulled down her denim shorts, Y/N’s body clad with her tank top and her soaked white thong.

The cool air in his bedroom didn’t help relieve the ache in between her thighs, needing him more than ever. “Bow on your panties? How cute.” He teased, pushing her panties to the side as he licked a bold stripe on her slit.

Her hips jolted at the newfound sensation, Mangione smiling at her reaction. His hands gripped onto her hips as he continued to use his tongue on her relentlessly, needing her to get himself drunk. Luigi couldn’t help himself but gather every last drop of her juices on his tongue, tasting her virginal pussy.

A string of sounds escaped her mouth as his tongue continued to work through her folds, circling his tongue around her clit before sucking on it. Her knees buckled at the suction of his lips.

“Fuck, L-Luigi.” She whimpered.

It was all happening so fast, her mind in a haze as Luigi held her up, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder as he continued to give his all, devouring her as if she was his last meal.

He had love for the game, so determined to make her first time worth it — wanting her to scream his name loud enough so everyone could know he was the first one to fuck Penn’s Hottest Virgin.

“Say it louder, baby. Need everyone to hear you.” He heaved, replacing his mouth with his long, skilled fingers.

She cried in pleasure as his two fingers stretched her out like no other, his digits pressing right up against that spot deep inside her that she could never reach on her own. Her glasses had slipped off her face, laid somewhere on his mattress.

It would’ve frustrated her to not be able to see, but with how good he’d been giving it to her, her eyes had stayed shut, the poor girl only being able to keep them open for only a few seconds until the next wave of pleasure.

“Put them back on for me, baby — Please.” He pleaded, loving how her glasses decorated her face. That was her signature, she’d never been without her glasses since the first time he saw her.

She reached out for her glasses, feeling the hard plastic beside her, putting them back on her beautiful face.

“Did so fucking good baby, listening to me.” He praises her, taking out his fingers and putting his mouth back on her needy pussy.

Y/N was so fucking close, her legs shaking around him as he devours until there’s nothing left — Luigi drinking up all her juices as they spread from her pussy to her thighs and undoubtedly his bedsheets.

Mangione had taken everything from her at that moment — her body, mind and voice. It was all too much, her needy hands reached into his bed of curls, gripping onto them as she buried him impossibly deeper between her thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Lui, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonn-” She cried out, tears running down her face as his name rolled off her tongue, his name being said so many times as if it were a prayer.

It was so sinful, so sexy, and he loved it.

“Cum on it, baby.” He urged, his tongue desperate for another taste. Luigi had been hooked from the first drop and had a craving for more. His tongue trailed from her hole onto the top of her folds, swallowing the remaining juices on her pussy.

“You taste so fucking good.” He praised, kissing her right inner thigh. Luigi could spend his entire life reliving this moment, worshipping her body.

Her body was in a near paralyzed state, the only signs of her liveliness was her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her glasses were now sitting at the tip of her nose, making her look so much sexier to him.

Luigi tried to fight back his infamous shit-eating smirk, but it was no use. He smiled proudly, showcasing the infamous fangs that everyone had been obsessed with, Y/N included.

Seeing those fangs reignited the fire in her body, needing to feel him again. Y/N lifted herself up and got on her fours, crawling to the edge of the bed where he remained kneeled.

There was nothing else on her mind but him. She wanted him to ruin her so fucking badly and so did he. His hazel eyes were clouded with lust as were hers. His dick was uncomfortably strained against his shorts, begging to be inside her virgin pussy.

Mangione leaned closer, his hands gently grab on to her face as he brings her closer to his face, closing the gap between them.

He held her face as their lips moved in sync, much hungrier than before, Y/N tasting the combination of the sweet jungle juice and herself on his tongue. Her hands trailed down his toned body, feeling his hard cock on the palm of her hand.

“Not sure if all of that is gonna fit inside me, Lui.” She joked, as she pulled away from the kiss, gently squeezing his bulge. It felt so fucking good under her hand, the feeling of how hard he was for her made her so much wetter.

“We’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure you’ll take all of it.” He promised, sealing it with a kiss. He pulled down his shorts, revealing how big he was — His tip glossed with precum. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, N/N — wanted you in my bed since I first saw you.” He confesses, guiding his dick between her folds. His tip rested right at her pussy, inching in slowly as she winced in pain.

“Want me to stop, baby?” He coos, caressing her soft thigh.

She shook her head, “I-I can take it, Lui—S-Swear.”

Satisfied, he pushes himself in her even more. “God, you feel so fucking good — wanna fuck you so hard, but we gotta wait, right?” He teased.

“Fuck me, Lui.” She pleaded, pulling his face down so she could whisper into his ear, the hard plastic pressed against the shell of his ear — “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

With that, he pushed himself all the way inside, his dick harder than ever before. The burning sensation intensified, a small shriek erupting from her throat. “F-Fuck.” Y/N gasped.

The initial pain soon subsided as he continued to thrust, his hips connecting to hers — Luigi & Y/N becoming one. She cried with pleasure as Luigi’s pace intensified, making her tits’ jiggle out of the skimpy tank top, her eighteen karat gold chain smacking against her chest.

It felt so fucking wrong, yet so fucking right.

He wasn’t ever supposed to see her in that way — For fucks’ sake, he wasn’t even supposed to know who she was!

Mangione was her fantasy come to life. She loved the way he felt, his cock going in so deep inside her he could see an imprint of where he was. He couldn’t resist, taking her hand in his and placing it on her stomach.

“You feel that? I want you to remember it f-forever.” He groaned. Her cunt grasped him hard, holding him even tighter.

“Oh fuck! Y-You make me feel so fucking g-good, baby.” She whimpered.

“Yeah?” He mocked, grinding his hips deeper into hers, his pace slowing down a bit, making her feel every inch and vein of his. She clenched around him once more, Luigi groaning at the sudden tightness. He worked harder, hips snapping into hers as he picked up the pace once again.

Y/N loved how full he made her, the way he didn’t leave a single part of her body untouched.

“God, it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?” He gripped on her hips, smiling at her fucked out expression.

“So,” It was all she could get out, her speech becoming more incoherent the closer she got. Y/N placed her manicured fingers on her clit rubbing her sensitive bud in circles, matching his pace.

Her body squirmed at the dual stimulation — It was all becoming too much. Y/N wanted this to last forever, never wanting to forget how his big dick felt inside her body, fucking her like the slut she knew she was.

“Luigi!” She screamed in pleasure, reaching her peak. Her walls pulsated around him like crazy, nearly sending Luigi into his climax. As much as he wanted to cum inside her, the thought of him cumming on her beautiful glasses sent him into overdrive.

God, he just loved her fucking glasses.

“Please baby, I just wanna cum on your glasses. Can I, baby?” He pleaded, pulling out of her. He took his needy cock in his strong hand, he inching closer to her frames.

He was so close, how could she deny him such a pleasure?

Y/N nodded, excitedly grabbing his dick from his hold and jerked him, aiming him closer to her frames. “Like this?” She asked sweetly as he shuddered around her touch.

His cum quickly shot out of him, landing on her glasses and coating her vision. “Just like that, sweetheart.” He assured her.

Luigi released himself from her touch, wanting to mark her up with his cum, aiming for below her stomach. He released a string of curses under his breath, chasing his much needed relief.

“Fuck, that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had.” He breathed, feeling so fucked out as he laid next to Y/N’s body.

At that point, her hair had been messed up as the anti-humidity spray was no longer holding up as some texture had shown up, adding onto her “sexed out” look.

Even with her hair wild and free, she still managed to look so beautiful — Luigi couldn’t get enough.

She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “Please, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word I say, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so much, it drove me insane — Do you know how hard it is to run a fraternity when there’s only one thing on your mind?” He ranted, now getting up from his spot on the bed.

She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her from his private bathroom. She was amused with the Italian. “Didn’t know it was so hard on you, Mr. President.”

“Very hard, actually.” He stated, returning with a damp cloth and wiping her body down. “Especially when she was known as the hottest virgin.” He joked, making her laugh.

Once she’s all wiped down, Luigi then uses his own personal glasses cleaning kit from his bedside drawer, spraying the liquid onto the stained glass, cleaning her frames with such care.

“You’re too much, Luigi.” She smiled, adoring the man beside her. “So detailed, too.”

“I’ll prove it everyday if I have to, Bellisima.” He professes, placing her frames back on her face with such care. “I’m not letting you go after everything you said to me.” Luigi pulls her in for another kiss, reassuring her he was there to stay.

[cherry-coffees]

Marriage of Convenience!Caitlyn headcanons

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who does not want to get married - much less to someone she doesn’t know or have feelings for. so when Cassandra introduces you to her for the first time, all she knows is that you’re from some noble house in Noxus and she resents you. It’s not your fault, she knows, but it’s so much easier to have someone to blame for her unhappiness.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who watches Cassandra talk to your mother in silent rage, who watches you smile politely and just go along with this. this just makes her resent you even more because why are you so okay with it?

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who (very reluctantly) attends the ball in celebration of your engagement. no one know it’s arranged - everyone in Piltover thinks that a Piltovian and Noxian fell in love and oh how wonderful it is that these star-crossed lovers will bring peace and an alliance between the two regions! Caitlyn wants to scream the truth at them all until her lungs burn. but her mother would kill her, so she just stands there with a fake smile, blue gaze icy.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who eventually ducks out of the main ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, seeking some relief from the constant attention of the crowd, only to find that you’re already there. frustration runs through her veins, a scowl automatically gracing her sharp features because why can’t she just have a single moment alone? but her expression morphs into one of surprise when she takes in your posture: leaning against the balcony railing in your gown, your head low and your body almost crumpled — defeated.

Caitlyn can’t help but hesitate, straightening out her Commander uniform she had insisted upon wearing. She doesn’t know whether to intrude or leave you be. But, she supposes, you will be married soon. 

So she breaks the silence, stepping forward to lean on the railing beside you. “Why aren’t you in the ballroom?”

“Why aren’t you?” You counter, not bothering to meet her eyes. You stare ahead, looking out at all of Piltover all lit up at night. 

Caitlyn can’t stop the scoff that escapes her. “Too much attention for something I don’t want.”

You bob your head once, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Makes two of us.”

“Are you kidding?” Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing and turning her body to fully face you. “You seem to be quite content going along with everything your parents want.”

“Yeah, well,” you exhale, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold night air. Caitlyn notices this, gaze darting to the gooseflesh that prickles on your bare arms. “There’s nothing either of us can do about it. It’s better to go along and make the best of it. If I’m going to be married to you, I don’t want to hate each other.”

Caitlyn blinks, slightly taken aback. “I-“ she pauses, considering your words. “I don’t hate you.”

“Seems like it.”

“I don't,” she insists, and you finally turn your head so your eyes lock with hers. “Look-“ Caitlyn holds your gaze, a twinge of respect stirring within her. “If my parents had to marry me off to someone, I’m glad it’s you. I know we just met, but you’re very respectful, and you seem kind. I like that.” She hesitates again, eyes flicking down over your body for a split-second. “And you’re undeniably pretty.”

“Uh- thank you." You blink, wide-eyed at the unexpected compliment, a pink hue dusting your cheeks. You can't deny that being called pretty in that posh accent of hers makes you a little flustered. But you push past it, shaking your head to clear your mind and continuing. "You’re right: we don’t know each other. But since we’re getting married, I’d like to, if you’ll allow it.”

And for the first time since Cassandra broke the news to her about this marriage, Caitlyn lets herself give you a half-smile. “Yeah,” she nods, a hint of interest in her eyes. “I’d like that.”

I have loose plans to write a full fic of this so!!! Stay tuned and lmk if you have any ideas/things you'd like to see with this <333

Reminder that my asks are open!

[themultifanshipper]

i am ovulating so bad but can I request a franco x reader x ollie smut where they were fighting over the reader like that one fight scene from bridget jones' diary, and the reader was like... why not both??

To say the start of the 2025 season had been eventful was an understatement. 

Or at least from Franco and Ollie’s points of view. 

Warnings: smut, threesome, blowjob (the return of Franco's dick sucking lips), mention of quickies, also a lot of alcohol, Yukierre being little shits, Ted kravitz once again making an appearance, very plot heavy ngl there's not much smut

At some point during the winter break, you had struck up a situationship with Franco. And you’d managed to keep it a secret for about a week. 

There was no such thing as privacy in Monaco, so of course it was inevitable that someone would eventually snap a pic of him leaving your house, and that was it. 

Ollie had been planning on asking you out at the start of the season, given that he now had a full-time seat and you'd be seeing a lot more of each other. 

And he didn’t really consider Franco much of a threat, so he decided to ask him during testing. 

The two of them were gazing at you from across the pitlane. 

“Are you and her like... an official thing?”  

Franco scoffed “What is that supposed to mean?”  

“You know... do you love her?” 

Franco frowned at him.  

“No, I don’t. But just because we aren’t in a relationship, do not think for a second that I will let you have her” 

Ollie raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just curious.” 

Franco didn’t believe him. And Ollie didn’t believe Franco.  

And they were both right. 

Because the truth was that Franco was in love with you, but he was too much of a pussy to do anything about it. So he was fine with just sex, until he could muster the courage to confess to you.  

And the truth was that Ollie was going to do everything he could to have you. He did have feelings for you, that had been brewing for a while, but the added element of competition made him hungry. 

Ollie was nothing if not proactive. He took every opportunity to talk to you, and flirt shamelessly with you. 

And at first, you were reticent. 

You’d been waiting for Franco to make a move. You liked him, a lot. And you knew he liked you. So any day now, right? 

Except weeks went by, and still no indication that Franco was going to make any kind of commitment to you. Not even a drunk phonecall, or a proper date... 

So eventually, Ollie's advances started getting to you. You were only human.  

You had no idea that the two drivers were in any kind of altercation in Melbourne. 

Someone had spotted them having a heated argument and a blurry video was circulating around the more remote spots of the internet, so you missed it completely. 

In China, you got your first indication that something was going on. 

Before FP3, Ollie had come to you saying he wanted to talk to you about something important. 

You told him to meet you in your drivers room after the session, and that you had something to talk to him about as well. 

His heart swelled with hope. Perhaps you also had feelings for him and he was finally going to beat Franco. 

But then, Franco was there, in your drivers room, waiting for you after the session.  

“I’m waiting for someone, you need to get out before someone sees-” 

“I don’t care about Ollie, I need you so bad right now” he groaned into your neck while his hands worked to get your suit off. 

He’d never done anything so bold before. And as soon as his hands and lips were on you, you caved. He had his way with you on the massage table, doing his best to get the sweetest, and loudest, noises out of you in an effort to ward any lurkers away. 

One of said lurkers, Ollie, froze when he heard the noises coming from your room.  

His heart sank, Franco had gotten to you first.  

This time. 

You and Ollie both did terribly on sunday. You weren’t expecting a podium, but some points would have been nice. And Ollie DNF’d thanks to one of the Alpines (in his mind he blamed Franco, even though the Argentine wasn’t even in a car) crashing into him in turn 2. 

So you and him did the only thing you knew would lift your spirits. You went out drinking. 

You ended up in some club, and you knew Yuki and Pierre were there as well. 

You drank, and danced with the three men. Forgetting your worries for a night. You hadn’t had that much fun in a while, Yuki and Pierre were absolutely unhinged when you got a bit of alcohol down them. 

Ollie stuck by your side the whole night, and eventually your mind went back to the FP3 session. 

You dragged him outside to talk (the club was stifling, and loud as fuck), and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong because of the haste with which you’d grabbed him. 

“Ollie, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday. I got... distracted”  a blush crept over your cheeks. 

Ollie found it adorable. 

“That’s okay” he pulled you into a drunken hug “At least you were making so much noise there was no chance of me walking in on you” 

You giggled shyly, nuzzling into his chest.  

“Oh my god... that’s so embarrassing” 

“Well, I suppose that was Franco’s way of staking his claim” there was an undertone of something almost bitter in the way he said his name. 

That was a very odd thing to say. Why would Franco even need to stake a claim? Unless... 

“Let’s go inside, I’m cold” you muttered, and Ollie led you back to the booth where Pierre and Yuki were arguing over whether Mijiu or Baijiu tasted better. 

You had no idea what either of them were, so you ordered a round of both for everyone to do a taste test. 

They were both awful in your opinion, so you ordered a round of shots of tequila to wash them down. 

It didn't take long before all of you made your way to the dance floor, inhibitions completely obliterated. 

In the back of your mind, you had a plan. Granted you were on the edge of blackout drunk, but it still made sense to you. 

When the song changed to something a bit slower and more... sensual, you shuffled closer to Ollie.  

If Franco had been trying to stop Ollie from talking to you, there had to be a reason, right? 

So you moved to the beat, rolling your hips enticingly as you sang along to the words. 

Ollie lifted an eyebrow in question, his lips curving into a drunken smirk. 

You bit your lip and got closer, hooking your fingers into his belt loops to pull him in. 

He got into the rhythm very quickly, and slid a hand around your lower back to hold you close while you danced. 

The tension was palpable, but the chemistry was undeniable as you moved in sync, rolling your hips to the heavy bass pumping through the speakers. 

Your faces were inches apart, separated only by your mingling breaths, and the rapidly dwindling amount of restraint you two had. 

“Kiss mee” you slurred, smiling up at him. You needed to know whether he wanted you as much as you wanted him. As if the way you were grinding on each other wasn’t enough. 

“What?!” 

“Kiss me!” you said, louder. 

His mouth opened, hesitation written all over his face, but he glanced down at your lips. 

Between the alcohol and the noise of the club, it was impossible to hear anything, so you mistook his hesitation for misunderstanding. 

You decided to get your point across by curling a hand into his hair and pulling him down to crash your lips together. 

He quickly got over the shock of it and cupped your face with his hands to deepen the kiss. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there making out, but it was long enough for Yuki to come and tell you that he and Pierre were leaving and that you could all share an uber if you wanted. 

The miniscule part of your brain that was still rational decided that you and Ollie should go with them, so you did. 

You had what you wanted anyway. Confirmation that you had two boys that wanted you. 

Japan is where you realised just how badly. 

You didn’t know about their arguments over the weekend, you just knew that Franco was trying to have sex with you every minute of every day, and that Ollie had a smug smirk on his face constantly. 

It was unnerving, really. 

On sunday morning, your team made you aware that pictures were circulating, of two blurry figures kissing in a club in China, next to two people who looked suspiciously like Pierre and Yuki. 

It was impossible to confirm who the people kissing were so you had nothing to worry about, but your PR manager asked you to please, for the love of god, be more careful. 

The race came and went, and you and Ollie both finished in the points. 

Yuki was taking Pierre to a karaoke bar that night, and in true Yuki fashion, invited you, Ollie, and Franco. 

The little shit- stirrer. And of course you knew the idea was probably a Yuki-Pierre collaboration. 

It was a bit awkward at first, both Ollie and Franco were trying to get your attention under the table with wandering hands, but you quickly shut that down. 

You and Pierre were up. You were singing a duet version of ‘My Way’ but Pierre sang his parts in french. It was hilarious. 

Yuki jumped onto the table and joined in within seconds. 

You were so into it that you didn’t notice Ollie and Franco slip out.  

Until the song finished and you looked down to see that the leather seats were unoccupied.  

You decided to go and look for them, and it didn't take you long to find them. 

The shouting could be heard as soon as you shut the door to the private room. 

You followed the voices all the way to the men's toilets, in which the two were arguing. 

You pushed the door open and couldn't help but laugh at the sight in front of you. 

Ollie had Franco in what seemed to be an attempt at a headlock, but while one of his arms was around Franco's throat, the other was pinned under Franco's weight against the wall. 

“Oi!” you hollered at them and they immediately let each other go, attempting to straighten themselves out. 

Ollie had a swollen lip and Franco looked like he'd had an altercation with a plug socket. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“Nothing” “He started it!” “He said-“ 

“I don't care!” you shouted “get your asses back in there and behave!” 

You pointed towards the room sternly, and they quickly shuffled down the corridor with their tails between their legs. 

You managed to finish the karaoke without another incident, but you could feel the tension between them. 

The walls were closing in. It was becoming all too real to you all of a sudden. They both wanted you, and you didn’t want to choose, but you couldn’t exactly let them keep tearing each other to shreds over you. 

Shit hit the fan in Bahrain. 

They were behaving like animals. 

You couldn't speak to either of them without the other one getting jealous and pissing you off. 

Ollie didn't do FP1 because Haas had gave his car to a rookie for the session, which meant that both he and Franco were in the paddock during the session. Unsupervised. 

It came as a shock to everyone but you when they started openly brawling. 

You'd just got out of the car, and were getting weighed when you heard the commotion. 

“DON'T YOU DARE!”  

Crash. 

“MOTHERF-“ 

“YOU TWO STOP I-  OW!” 

You ran towards the two dickheads. Who were fighting in your garage. 

These two could not fight to save their lives. It was the stupidest brawl you'd ever seen. 

Your mechanics sort were hesitant to intervene, sort of standing around ready to step in as soon as there was any risk of them doing actual damage to each other. 

You didn't know who threw the first punch. You didn't care. 

The adrenaline was coursing through you so you went straight in, pushing the two struggling men down to the ground to destabilize them, then grabbed the shirt of the first one you could get your hands on. 

Which happened to be Franco. 

Someone next to you shouted “Yeah! Get your boyfriend!” 

“He is not my boyfriend, fuck off!” you shouted back. 

Your words had different effects. Franco’s heart broke a little, despite it being true, and Ollie now knew he had an undeniable chance. 

And everyone around you went “ouch” 

You dragged Franco away and threw him to the side, allowing Ollie to get back up and lunge at him. 

You blocked him, and slapped him, hard. 

You turned around and slapped Franco even harder. 

“Out of my garage, now!” you spat at them. 

They looked like they wanted to argue but you didn't even give them the chance. 

“I said, OUT!” you bellowed, and they looked at the crowd sheepishly before making their way out, in opposite directions. 

You didn't even entertain the small mass of people that were staring at you. You strutted to the back of the garage and made your way through the corridors to find a quiet place to think. 

You thought things couldn't get any worse, but of course, you quickly found out that a camera had wormed its way into the crowd and had broadcasted live the moment where you intervened and shouted at the person (who turned out to be Ted Kravitz) to ‘fuck off’. 

You were in your hotel room, looking through tweets about the footage, when a message popped up on your screen. 

“I'm sorry about earlier, can we talk?” 

It was Franco. 

“No” 

You left every subsequent message on read. 

About 10 minutes later a knock at the door interrupted you once again. 

It was probably your PR manager, coming to give you the 7th speech of the day about how “for the record, this is not what I meant when I told you to be more careful!” 

You looked through the peep hole and cursed loudly. 

It was Oliver fucking Bearman. 

You wrenched the door open. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? If anyone on my team sees you here we are both dead!” 

You dragged him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“I wanted to come and explain-“ 

“No!” you whisper-yelled “There is nothing to explain! You and Franco have humiliated me, and yourselves today!” 

“But-“  

“There is no ‘but'! This shit stops now, I can't have my name dragged through the mud because you two wankstains decided it was a good idea to start fighting in my garage! Do you realise how that looks?” 

He looked at you guiltily and hung his head in shame. He looked almost small while sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“This whole thing has been a mess from the beginning! Because the truth is I like you both and I don't want to-“ 

You were interrupted by another knock at the door. 

Oh hell no. 

You stormed over to the door and wrenched it open again, revealing Franco in gray sweats and a dark hoodie. 

His attire told you everything you needed to know about his intentions right now. 

“Go away!” you hissed. “I told you I didn't want to talk” 

Franco glanced at Ollie still sitting on the bed and frowned. 

“So I am not allowed to be here but you invited him? That is not fair” 

“Oh for god's sake!” 

You dragged him inside, like you did Ollie, and motioned for him to sit on the bed. 

“You two are idiots!” You hissed. “What was that, today?” 

“We both wanted to go to your driver’s room to talk to you” 

“Yeah? And then you started fucking fighting!” 

“Because we love you!” 

“I can fucking see that, dipshit” you flicked Ollie's forehead “And thanks to you every motherfucker who watches Formula One also saw it, because you fought on live fucking television!” 

Ollie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and Franco stared at the floor. 

And as if the universe hadn't punished you enough. Another knock rattled against the door. 

You turned around and watched in horror as your PR manager let herself in, and upon seeing the two men on the bed, stared daggers at them. 

“You two just don't know when to quit do you?” 

“I'm sorry about this, I didn't know either of them were coming they just turned up” you muttered. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well at least this all seems a bit more mature than whatever the fuck happened in the garage earlier” 

She turned to you. “I've smoothed it over for you, given that you'd just come out of the car, and according to the footage you actually stopped the fight, so you won't be getting any fines or penalties. Although I would refrain from telling any Skysports presenters to fuck off anytime soon. No matter how much they deserve it” 

She turned to the other two. “I however do not have the power to save either of you, so my guess is you will be informed by your teams of any fines you may be getting.” 

She eyed you all sadly. 

“Please sort your shit out. What you do, or do not do behind closed doors is none of my business, but please stop being idiots in public, it makes my job so much harder, and I am not paid extra.” 

The two drivers had the decency to look ashamed as they apologised to her. 

“On that note, I wish you all good night, and please don't break any furniture” 

And with that she smiled softly and left, leaving the three of you in silence. 

“You heard the woman” you sat on the chair next to the bed and crossed your arms defiantly “Let's sort it out.” 

They looked at each other helplessly and you rolled your eyes.  

“Come on, what do you want?” 

Franco piped up first. 

“I want you. All of you. I have been in love with you for months but I’ve been a coward…” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his confession. 

You looked at Ollie. 

“I was planning on asking you out. But I got jealous when I found out you were with Franco… and then I uhhh… kind of made it into a competition. Trying to get you to like me back before Franco had the guts to tell you.” 

You hummed, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What about you?” Franco asked. “What do you want?” 

“I uhh…” you were almost intimidated by the two men staring at you. “Well… I like you both, so… either you can learn to share, or neither of you can have me” 

They looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation as they glanced back and forth between you and each other. 

The fact that they seemed to be entertaining the idea of sharing you was doing funny things to your brain. 

You imagined having them both at your mercy. Then your mind wandered to all the possibilities. 

The image of them making out briefly flashed in your mind.  

The butterflies returned to your stomach and you let your mind wander even further, Franco on his knees for Ollie.  

A voice suddenly pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Franco asked, and you stared at his lips. They would look so perfect wrapped around- 

“Yeah, you look a bit flustered” Ollie chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” 

You bit your lip. 

“The two of you. Together.” 

A small blush crept up their necks and they squirmed uncomfortably. 

“We can share” Franco muttered, eyes darkening slightly. 

“Good” you smiled, standing up and slowly making your way towards them. “I want you both naked in the next 15 seconds…” 

They glanced at each other with wide eyes before hurriedly taking their clothes off. 

Once they were fully bare, they looked up at you expectantly. 

You grinned and swiftly sat down in between them. 

You pulled Franco in for a kiss, hands inching their way up the two men's thighs. 

You could feel Ollie's gaze on you so you turned your head and smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him. 

One of your hands went to touch Ollie's cock, which was half hard, and your other was met with Franco's hand, that he had already wrapped around himself while watching you make out with Ollie. 

You swapped again, Ollie's cock hardening at your touch, and at the sight of Franco pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

Then Ollie's turn came again, and he was fully hard by now, so you swept your thumb over his tip to make his hips twitch. 

You then stopped touching them altogether and leaned back on your elbows on the bed. 

“Now you two” you smirked. 

They looked at each other breathlessly, blush high on their cheeks and eyes lidded. 

They were hesitant, Ollie's hand weaved its way into Franco's hair to pull him in.  

It started out chaste, but still, the sight of it was truly something. 

You wriggled out from in between them and they looked at you in question. 

“Gonna lock the door” you muttered, jogging over to it. 

You heard a muffled “good idea” and turned to see them back at it, and this time with gusto. 

Their eyes were closed, so you undressed silently and climbed back on the bed. 

Ollie gasped into the kiss when Franco's hand made its way around his cock, squeezing gently before setting a slow, almost teasing pace. 

Franco trailed kisses along his jaw, making his way down Ollie’s chest, and the latter looked at you. 

His eyebrows jumped when he saw your state of undress. And went even higher when he noticed you were touching yourself. 

But it was quickly wiped from his mind when Franco’s lips suddenly made contact with his tip. 

He gasped, head whipping down to look at where Franco was kissing up and down his length.  

One of his hands once again found itself weaved into Franco's dark locks when the absolute tease decided to lick his cock from base to tip, while staring straight up at him through his lashes. 

“Jesus” he muttered “You've done this before haven't you?” 

Franco just winked, and took his cock halfway down into his mouth and sucked. 

The two of them looked ethereal, Ollie gasping for air while Franco sucked him down as far as he could go. 

Apparently Franco was doing something with his tongue, because Ollie kept throwing his head back and hissing. 

“Fuck- I'm not going to last long if you keep doing that.” 

Franco pulled off with a pop and smirked at him, pulling him in for another sloppy makeout. 

You were sitting there, two fingers deep inside yourself, and they were completely ignoring you. 

The irony of the situation made you scoff. 

“Guys… is either of you going to fuck me or…?” 

Ollie laughed and Franco started crawling up the bed towards you. 

“It would be my pleasure” he smiled. 

Ollie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Actually, I think you have fucked her enough, it's my turn now” 

He crawled up to you, and kissed you sweetly, pulling your hand away from your cunt and replacing it with his own. 

“God, watching us got you this excited?” 

You nodded shyly. “You two look really fucking hot together” 

He laughed, gummy smile making a brief appearance as he lined himself up, sliding his tip up and down your folds to tease you. 

“You ready?”  

“Of course” 

He slid home in one gentle thrust, and you moaned into his mouth when he leaned down to kiss you. 

Franco came to kneel next to your head and waited for you to take a breather before asking you to open your mouth for him. 

He slapped his cock against your tongue teasingly, and the wet noise caught Ollie's attention, who had been mouthing at your tits absentmindedly. 

Franco fucked you mouth in earnest, and when he noticed the pther man looking at him heatedly, leaned over to capture his lips in a bruising kiss... 

It was all over far too quickly, but the exciting novelty of the situation had gotten to them and they came together with a muffled whine. 

You then made them clean you up with their tongues, and the sight of both of their faces between your legs, taking turns lapping up your juices, just felt right. 

If they could share, and not be too obvious about it, then the rest of the season should be a breeze. 

You sent your PR manager a hefty check, with a note. 

“Thank you for putting up with our shit. It's been sorted <3” 

[wonderjanga]

The Flask

Literally any hero that knows Captain Marvel will tell you that the man is absolutely amazing, pure and above anything such as cheating, drinking, or even smoking. The JL knows this, the YJ knows this, Teen Titans know this, even the Fawcett heroes know this.

Billy didn’t know this. He honestly had no clue other heroes looked up to him that much but anyways, we have to talk about the prelude to this incident.

See, Billy was minding his own business walking through the trenches, because let’s be honest that’s where he lives, (or at least that’s where he lives in the Superman/Shazam movie). Anyways, on this walk home, he finds a flask just on the ground. He picked it up.

Billy: “Oh cool! A water bottle! It’s a little small though.”

Yeah… anyways, he went to a gas station and cleaned it out of any remaining funny smelling liquid. He even filled it with some tapwater when he was done. So… Kablam!

Strange Water Bottle: Acquired!

Let Billy tell you, he was so proud about finding this water bottle. It had a cool sunflower on it and everything. And sure maybe adults look at him weirdly whenever he drinks from it but whatever! He has a water bottle now!

In fact, he was so happy about this water bottle, he even took it to work, a.k.a. superheroing.

Marvel: *finishes beating up a villain and takes out his flash so he can drink some water*

Fawcitizen: “Wow… Guess the cheese is finally letting loose, huh?”

Elderly Fawcitizen: “It’s about damn time. That young man has been slaving around with the other heroes saving people for years. Let him let loose.”

Fawcitizen: *nods head* “Never heard a truer statement.”

The elderly Fawcitizen and the other Fawcitizen were a little concerned at how he was downing the flask without faltering in the slightest but whatever. It’s the Cheese. Just let him do that.

The Fawcett heroes didn’t think the same though. They wanted to bring up what could’ve happened to make him feel the need to do this, but they also didn’t know if Cap would answer honestly. Heck, he might even offended, and they don’t want that! So, they bit their tongues and kept quiet.

Of course, Billy didn’t just take his water bottle out whenever he was in Fawcett. He took it out just about anywhere. This has led to some interesting interactions with others, not that he minds.

Constantine: “I didn’t fancy you to own one of those, mate.” *points to Billy’s sunflower flask*

Marvel: “Why wouldn’t I?”

Constantine: “Touché.” *offers his own flask so they can clink them together*

Constantine and Marvel: *clinks them*

Billy was absolutely ecstatic that someone else had a water bottle like his. Now, of course, there have been negative interactions with his water bottle.

Marvel: *doing security for whatever reason at the UN and sipping from his “water bottle”*

Security Guard: *watching this* “Quite distasteful, no?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?”

Security Guard: “I mean, this is a gathering of world leaders.”

Marvel: “So…?”

Security Guard: “So I think you’d have the tact to not drink from that here, but apparently not.”

Billy was majorly bummed that some people didn’t like his water bottle but you know what? Whatever.

By the way, because of the fact none of the heroes know why he started “drinking” they just blame each other. More specifically the JL blames the Fawcett heroes while the Fawcett heroes blame the JL.

Again to remind you, anything in Billy’s flask is water.

Also, he eventually found out that his “water bottle” was a flask from Solomon and promptly started leaving the thing at home so he could only drink from there because he was absolutely not getting rid of it.

All the heroes were glad when the sunflower flask suddenly disappeared.

[sloaneispunk]

“a real man”

dbf!in-ho x you

when a family party takes place, you finally met the one and only hwang in-ho, your father’s best friend. when unsettled disputes take place, you find shelter with the man who was thrice your age.

“y/n, get the door will you?” your dad asked, taking the plates from your hands as you made your way to the front door.

you yanked the door open, mumbling under your breath. why did he have to throw this party anyway? it’s not like it was the first time you were home, why was he making such a big deal out of it?

“hey, sweetheart. is your dad home?” a man said.

you took a good look of the man that stood before you in the doorway. holy shit.

“in-ho! there you are! was starting to think you were ditching your old pal!” your father’s voice boomed from behind you, pushing you away from the door as he took your place, inviting the unfamiliar man in.

“it’s good to see you too, man.” he chuckled.

“i’m assuming you’ve met y/n?” your father introduced, stepping aside, revealing your confused face.

“i did…” in-ho nodded, “quite a pretty one.”

a blush crept onto your cheeks. “thank you.”

“polite too? you raised her well.”

“of course i did. don’t know what her mum’s been teaching her though, been a little angsty lately.” your dad revealed, making your eyes grow wide.

“can we not do this now?” you gritted, glaring at him.

after that, you never saw much of in-ho, being cooped up in the house while everyone was having the time of their lives outside with your dad in the party that he had organised for you.

eventually, you grew bored, grabbing a drink and hopping onto the kitchen counter as you watched the party unfold in the backyard with your father.

“hey, what are you doing here?” in-ho’s gentle voice rang in your ears, snapping you out from zoning out.

“these aren’t even my friends, they’re my dad’s.” you said defeated, peeking at the ongoing party outside.

“guessed it. didn’t think you’d be friends with all us older men.” he joked, making you chuckle, shaking your head. “you know, if it’s not pushing your boundaries, can i ask-why did your dad throw this get-together again?”

“i’ve been living with my mom for a few months, today’s the first time i’m back in awhile.” you told him. “oh, i’m sorry, do you want a beer or something?”

“don’t be silly, kid. this is your party, i’ll get it myself.” he smiled.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence as he leaned against the counter beside you, giving you the silent company you needed.

“you know for what it’s worth, i think you look beautiful.” in-ho broke the silence, turning his head slightly to face you.

“you’re not so bad yourself.” suddenly, he felt a sense of pride overwhelm him. he couldn’t possibly grasp the thought of you finding him attractive as he found you. afterall, he was almost thrice your age.

when it was finally time for a sit-around at the dining table, you were way out of your comfort zone. eyes burned holes into you from every angle, giving you no space for privacy whatsoever.

“so, y/n… youe dad tells me that you’ve been living with your mom?” a friend of your father’s questioned.

there we go. “uh, yeah.”

“how’s it like there? she any better than your dad?” he teased, making your father let out a low laugh as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“c-can we don’t talk about this-”

“of course it is!” youe father interrupted. “couldn’t even get her to come over for a good few months, must have been really great.”

only in-ho noticed you were in distress, your breathing getting faster as your leg shook under the table. testing waters, he placed a hand on your thigh under the table, hoping to give you some stability to get through the dinner.

when you felt his warm hand on your thigh, you jerked away initially, thinking that it was one of thise old creeps who had touched you. but upon realising that it was only in-ho you shifted closer to him. as if you were silently begging for his help.

“we can all be gentleman at this table, let’s not give the lady any trouble, huh?” in-ho had intervened, anger slowly building up inside of him as they continued to press you with uncomfortable questions.

“hey speaking of your mom, she ever bring anyone home recently? like a colleague? maybe a friend?” you father asked.

“no.” you stated bluntly, you could already feel your eyes being welled up with tears.

but it didn’t stop there, you father as well as his friends made no effort to stop their interrogation.

eventually, you broke, letting the tears spill onto your lap as you tried your best to play it off without drawing anymore attention to yourself, but it was in vain.

“kid, are you cryin’?” one of them laughed, catching the attention of the rest.

“she is!”

“why are you crying, little girl?”

“do you want your mommy?”

in-his fist grew tighter around the handle of the fork he was holding, he couldn’t sit there and watch as you were being tormented by these sick bastards.

“boys, that’s enough!” he suddenly yelled, causing the room to go dead silent.

without another word said, he stood up, his chair scraping ear piercingly on the wooden floor as he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the table and out the front door.

luckily for you, in-ho was only staying a couple blocks down, no more than a good three minute walk. the whole time, he said nothing, only changing his grip on you from the hand to your waist, leading you to his porch.

when you got to the doorstep, you stopped on your tracks, making him turn around, quickly taking a quick scan of your face to see if he had hurt you on accident.

“hey, talk to me, what’s wrong, love?” he asked in a soft tone, as if he were talking to a little girl.

“i can’t be here.” you said, looking up at him teary-eyed. “my dad will kill me.”

“nonsense… i won’t let him lay a hand on you, i promise. it’s better to stay here than with all the rascals there anyway.”

you winced at his harsh words, reminding you once again of the conversation at the dinner table.

“let’s not think about any of that anymore, alright? come in, you must be exhausted too, pretty girl.” he said as he ushered you inside.

in-ho’s house was warm. it smelt like him, the dim yellow lights bluncing off the perfectly decorated walls of his home. it was so quiet, just perfect.

“here, you can change into this. make yourself comfortable.” he said as he offered you a shirt and sweatpants which looked like it was his.

you thanked him and headed to the bathroom to change out of your clothes. when you were returned bacm to the living room, he was already on the sofa, legs spreaded out cozily as a tv programme played.

“there you are, do you have anything you wanna do in mind?”

‘no’ you shooke your head.

“then why don’t we just stay here and watch some movies. how does that sound?”

a smile broke on your face, making him feel a sense of relief. but to his surprise, you didn’t take just any emoty end of the sofa. you shuffled up close to him, merely centremeters away as he could smell your perfume that hadn’t worn off. it was driving him crazy.

as the two of you sat in silence, watching the show, in-ho noticed how your head was starting to fall closer and closer to his chest. he took a peak, seeing that you were now barely awake, struggling to keep your eyes open. he chuckled, pulling away, making your slowly open your eyes and lifting your head.

“no, no, stay there.” he cooed, moving closer in a more snug position for the both of you. and wirh his signal, you laid your head on his chest, your body and legs curled into a ball as he draped his arm over you while the other found its way to your hair. he combed through the soft, lush strands, lulling you to sleep as he did so.

“goodnight, y/n.” he whispered before leaning down carefully, placing a kiss on your forehead, watching as you tried to snuggle up closer to him.

in-ho knew he was doomed. it was a dangerous game he was playing with his best friend’s daughter. but at that moment, he realised just how bad he had had it for you. and there was no turning back.

[angelltheninth]

When Arcane Men Get Jealous

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Finn, Marcus, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessive behavior, being protective, kissing in public, biting, holding hands, public display of affection, canon typical violence, suggestive

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would die if they were jealous over me. Melt into a puddle. Gone.

When Viktor gets jealous he gets a bit more withdrawn than he usually is. Not that he was ever a social butterfly, however he was always more open and happy to talk when it was with you. So his behavior is odd, he even seems to get quieter whenever you walk into the room. Like he's trying to remove himself from you with silence.

"I am not avoiding you. Look, there has been a lot to do for the past week, I'm sorry if you got a bad impression but I was simply busy. If you want more company, go ask Jayce, or Skye, I'm sure they will be more than happy to entertain you, darling."

Viktor is short with his answers, saying as little as possible to minimize the amount of time he spends talking to you. Not because he doesn't want to talk to you, he loves talking to you, but if he keeps talking there's a chance he might say something he's going to regret. And end up hurting you.

"There you go again with these ridiculous accusations. You won't leave it alone will you? So now it's my fault that your project is running late? I would have been happy to help but someone was too busy talking with... you know what, nevermind. You're right, we both have a lot to do, so let's just drop this conversation and focus on work."

If you keep getting in the way of his work, Viktor will eventually come to a breaking point. Him not being able to work is only adding to his emotions, and he's never been the best at dealing with them. While he doesn't exactly yell at you, it's very rare that he ever raises his voice there's a notable frustration in his words, and pain, fear that you'd leave.

"If I'm being so unreasonable then leave. Go. Have fun. I know it's not idea to be cooped up in the lab all the time. There are so many more things to do out there. if you... want to go with other people I suppose I can't stop you, nor can I stop my own jealousy. How am I being even more unreasonable? I know you wouldn't leave me without talking about it. Look... I do not... want you to leave, working is more fun with you. But am I truly all that you want? Me? This lab? Because you're all I want. All that I can think of."

When Jayce gets jealous he keeps invading your personal space when you're around the person or people he's jealous of. His behavior is nothing innapropriate or pushy. It's just his arm around your waist, just him bringing you that drink you wanted, just him bragging about you a bit too loud and saying how much he loves you.

"You really are great, babe. How in Runterra did I ever find a beauty like you huh? What's that bashfulness for now, I always praise you, and I'm never gonna stop. You're my girl right? I can be a proud boyfriend and talk you up every once in a while."

Physical affection a big deal to Jayce and a way he shows he cares but also a giveaway to his jealousy. He holds your hand longer, his eyes flicker between you and the one he's jealous off, his smile is a bit more nervous when he has to leave you alone. Then there are his kisses, not as gentle, not a little, quick peck on the edge of your lips but a real kiss, lips pressed against yours until you let him know you need air.

"Got a bit carried away there. Ah, sorry, I can't resist you sometimes. All the time. Do you expect me to when you wear lipstick like that? Makes your lips look like they're made to be kissed. By me specifically. I'd kiss you all night long, for the rest of our lives and never get tired of it."

Jayce keeps denying that he's jealous when you bring it up in a teasing way. Logically there's no reason to get jealous, everyone knows your relationship is doing great, in fact you're hardly ever fighting and even when you are it doesn't last too long. How does he turn that part of his brain off? How can he not get jealous when all those people look at you the way he looks at you?

"They're always looking at you. How can you not notice? It's so obvious. You don't notice because... you're only looking at me? That doesn't even make sense! Of course they're looking, you're breathtaking everywhere you go. I just hope that wherever you go, you'll always take me with you, because I want to be by your side forever."

Ekko often jokes about being jealous so you don't pick up on him actually being jealous. A little jealousy is fine but not when it's getting in the way of his missions and operations with his team. He'd been a bit distracted in the past, by one of the Firelights flying too close to you, so he pushed his way between you two.

"It was the formation! Which you would have remembered if you weren't too busy chatting. Come on, Firefly, get your head in this. Otherwise you're gonna make your leader jealous. Wouldn't want that right? What if... what if you get demoted for it? Hey! Ow! I wouldn't demote you, who would listen to all my plans?"

When you have free time together Ekko makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible. If you're together all the time there's less chance that someone else will swoop in and flirt with you. He would never describe his behavior as being clingy, all he wants is to spend free time with his girlfriend. That is perfectly normal behavior.

"What do you say we go out to get some food? We don't have to spend all our time here. Not like the tree is gonna burn down if we're away for a couple of hours right? Besides it's been a while since it was just you and me all alone. Miss being alone with you. Don't you miss it too?"

If the person he's jealous of ever puts you in danger in any way Ekko will go off on them. Harder than he scolded others in the past. He might let some of his jealousy show then, but he storms off, well flies off before you can talk to him. As much as he wants to be alone he also makes room for you on his hoverboard when you float down next to him.

"Shouldn't have went off on them like that. I know, you don't gotta say it, I'll say I'm sorry. Let cool off a bit. You'd think that if they were flirting with you that much they could have been looking out a bit better. I'm always looking out for you. Maybe a bit too much. Sorry if I've been weird about it lately. Would you forgive me if I took you on a romantic hoverboard ride?"

No one wants to piss off a big man like Vander by flirting with his wife. Everyone values their life and their bones too much. But... they stare at you. Quite openly actually. You see it, and you bet he sees it too. He sees everything that's happening at his bar and he won't stand for someone ogling his wife, even if he has to get aggressive about it.

"It's my damn bar, I've got the right to break the table with their heads when they're looking at ya like that. Tell ya what, a lot more people would avoid this place if I started beating up every asshole that looks at ya wrong. Only reason I don't is cause I don't want ya to be mad at me after."

He hasn't banned anyone from his bar in a very long time. Vander knows he tolerates a lot, this is Zaun, and some people don't have the best manners, that's not exactly their fault. But on the other hand if they start something with him then he will finish it. When he tells them to stop looking at you like you like you were one of Babette's workers and they get in his face he will pick them up and throw them out.

"Bastards had it coming. I tried to be nice, then they had to go and call ya names. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let anyone insult my wife. Not here, not on the streets, not anywhere. I went there and I wanted to talk to them, tell them to fuck the hell off, they were the ones who started getting violent. So I responded in kind."

Vander calls you over to the bar a bit more often if he sees a particular table is trying to monopolize you. He carries some of the drinks over, the food plates too, or he simply walks up behind you when one of the guys is getting flirty. Seeing his imposing, huge frame behind you, his muscles bulging, is enough to get most to back off you.

"See, darlin', I can talk things out just fine. When people are being smart about it that is. Might have to stop selling so much booze in this place, then they won't be so bold with ya. Ya are a pretty sight, I can't say otherwise. But ya are a pretty sight for me, not them, ain't that right? Mhm. I know, I'm all yer's too."

Silco never ever says he's jealous of anyone. He is the most powerful man in all of Zaun, everyone is scared of him and with good reason. As the Eye of Zaun he knows when people are looking, talking too, and might even try to touch you. Those people are often payed a not so nice visit by his men.

"I did hear about that gang, yes. It's very unfortunate that they don't know how to keep their noses where they don't belong. It's not that big of a loss on our end. There are a hundred people who can do their work, and better. All that matters is that they won't even have to think about not touching you again."

He rarely has to get his own hands dirty when he gets jealous. All it takes is him saying who the target or targets are and he makes them dissapear from Zaun. That doesn't always have to be deadly, but if they're really dumb it is. If Silco feels that you're in some kind of danger then he will keep you close by. He tries to distract you from seeing he's jealous.

"All I'm saying is that we could take a break from work. Sevika and Jinx can handle a week of it. And you and me can lock ourselves up in our home and not come out. The bedroom works perfectly fine too, if you'd rather spend our time in there. And what is it that I'm doing, darling? Jealous? You are an observant one. I wouldn't want you any other way."

The only time Silco will threaten someone in person is if that someone is bold enough to flirt with you in front of them. He can scare people within an inch of their life just by talking to them, he's not just a good businessman, and some people tend to forget that. He has Zaun in the palm of his hand, and everyone in it.

"He did not actually piss himself. Did he actually. Hm, I wasn't look at him anymore to be honest. He was spineless, surprising given he talked to you like he did. Guess he was thinking with his other head a bit too much for his own good. Why are you looking at me that way? Ah, I see. Looks like someone enjoyed watching me put a scumbag into his place a bit too much."

Since Finn isn't someone who would take anything lying down he will be damned before he sees someone coming onto his woman and not do anything about it. He might have a certain charm about him but that doesn't mean he's not ready to makes heads roll the moment when someone crosses any kind of line with you. Imaginary or otherwise.

"Hah, did you see that doll? As soon as I threw one punch he went down. All his buddies ran like rats. Left him all alone there. After all that tough talk and he couldn't even defend himself. Serves him right. He's lucky all I did was break his nose when he flirted with you. I wasn't even that far away."

Finn will make out with you in front of who ever he is jealous of just to prove a point to them. And while he has you moaning, has your head buried against his neck and your body running hot he will look at the other person and stick his tongue out at them, right before making a V with his fingers and putting his tongue between them. He's vulgar but it gets the point across very well.

"All these people looking at what's mine. Now, I can't have that right? I love that you're showing off your body, it's a great body, you know how much I love it. But sometimes I want to keep you away from prying eyes. And if I can't the least I can do is give them a show. Make them know I'm the only one who can touch you."

His jacket is a signature part of his outfit, but Finn will let you wear it. Hell, he will walk over and drape it over your shoulders while not even looking at whoever you're talking to. Sometimes they're not worth looking at when he can look at the pretty way you blush as you touch his hand that's lingering on your shoulder.

"Thought you looked a bit cold there. Keep this on all night. Later on I'll help you warm up my way, a much more fun way. Don't even worry about your perfume getting all into this, love having your scent all over me. And by tomorrow you're gonna be wearing all of my marks."

There are a lot of people in the Enforcers who tease Marcus about having such a pretty wife. He knows you're pretty, but he doesn't like that the department is noticing it so much as well. Not that there's any way for him to hide it, or that he wants you to hide it, that would be a real crime.

"I was not pouting. That is so childish. I was glaring at them. Well, they were the ones who stared first. You visit me at work, like that's such a big deal. We're married, honey, I pick you up from work too. Why is it such a big deal here? I think they're just trying to get a rise out of me."

Won't deny that he's feeling jealous or shy away from showing it. When Marcus notices any of his men flirting with you he makes them work extra hard that day, he gives them more paperwork, something that everyone hates there, or assigns them to the toughest jobs that he knows will take them days to complete. He can't help but chuckle when you visit again and they're too tired to flirt with you, they just say hello.

"What do you mean I'm picking on them? Of course not. You know how hard it is to deal with all these extra cases. Someone has to take on a few more. No, the fact that it's the same Enforcers who gave you flowers that one time has nothing to do with it. You think it does? And do you have evidence of this accusation?"

Marcus isn't shy about kissing you in front of the whole department. If that's what it takes to send them all a clear message to back off. It's always perfectly chaste kisses, but he does make sure that everyone hears him say he loves you when you leave. He smirks when eyes turn to him and he wishes them all a good rest of their day.

"Now you call me petty. All of these accusations and you still don't have any evidence. That's not a very good way to have a case. You've been keeping count have you? Oh. You... actually have been keeping count? I'm guilty? Fine, you got me, you got me. Maybe... that was a little petty of me, but I'm not sorry."

Every time Loris is jealous it's almost impossible for him to hide that fact. He's a big guy, nothing about him is easy to his, not even his emotions. And he's loud, so every time he huffs, mumbles something, or grunts you hear it. Your eyes meet and he looks away, his hand grasping yours and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

'They were staring at you a bit too much for my liking, pretty girl. If they were as tough as they pretend they were they should have held their ground more. Proves they were all bark and no bite. People like that really get on my nerves, and then they talk to my girl like she's single."

Loris invites you to have lunch with him quite often, even more often when he gets jealous of someone who works with him. Dealing with them in any other way would be unprofessional of him, and might get him in trouble. This way he gets to avoid that, avoid them, and spend a nice lunch date with you. No matter how you look at it he's the real winner here.

"Looks so good. But if you keep looking at me like that I might get hungry for something else besides the food. Just try shifting the blame on me when you know exactly how you're looking at me right now. I wouldn't risk it at work, but... if you showed up with a few hickeys on your neck it might get the rest of the department to stop flirting with you."

As much as he tries to make his jealousy go away it's not easy. Loris knows he should be an example for others, after all he had been an Enforcer for a long time, he can't just let his emotions get the better of him. Hard to keep those emotions down when they concern you. If nothing else works he will intimidate people. Easy enough for him. But he would rather that be a last resort.

"If he wasn't ready to throw fists and words at me then he shouldn't have thrown flirty words at you. He should be able to back himself up if he's gonna be saying stuff like that. All I did was pick him up and throw him outside. Hey, I might get in a bit of trouble for it, but at least he'll leave you alone from now on. I'd risk my badge for you if I have to, you know that."

Since he is the quiet type Steb shows his emotions and jealousy is one that he works hard to surpress. Every time he notices that someone is standing a little too close to you he walks over and looks at you, lovingly, then he looks at the other person with a glare, a deadly one. All the while he's standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Come now, angelfish, they weren't even worth your time. We both know they only had one thing in mind when they were talking to you. I could see it in their eyes. I don't appreciate that they looked at you like that. And I know you don't either. So I felt like I had to step in."

He is very physical with his jealousy. Steb lets his eyes and touches linger a few moments longer when he wants to make a point to someone. While he knows you don't hate it he also doesn't want to come off as too jealous or too possessive over you. You can take care of yourself and he loves that about you, he's watched you put people in their place often, but there are times where he can't hold himself back.

"I could feel your fingers interlocking with mine. You wanted me to stand close to you when they weren't leaving you alone. Would you have raised your voice if I hadn't walked over? It would be amusing to see it. But I think those kisses we shared also sent an equally powerful message. You didn't have to bit me though."

Steb nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck when he's feeling really, really jealous of someone. He makes it look less possessive than it is, pretending like he's overhearing something you have to say, and then pushing himself just a little bit closer. His cold lips make contact with your neck, sending shivers down your body before he brushes your lips with his thumb and leaves with a smirk.

"That ought to be enough. I could have done more but marking you in public might have been a step too far. We can enjoy things like that in private however. I enjoy being close to you in any context, and if it makes others realize you're not looking for anyone because you've already got a man then I enjoy it even more."

[meganwhalenturner]

So, last November I got to try my hand at Alchemy

Maddalena Rumor, in the Classics Department of Case Western Reserve University came to have dinner with us and mentioned she'd just successfully turned silver gold.

She had an alchemical recipe from a 7th century BCE cuneiform tablet from the library of Ashurbanipol. She'd been working with Rekha Srinivasan, from the Chemistry Department to see if they could translate the cuneiform, identify the substances mentioned, and then try the recipe to see if it worked.

They traveled to the British Museum to examine the tablet up close. By studying the partial strokes along the edges, Maddalena could make some educated guesses about missing words. Rekha, in turn, could use the descriptions of the substances to make some guesses about what they might be. Then they could start testing their best guesses with experiments.

This is complicated by the tendency of alchemical texts to use code words or inside jokes to describe materials or techniques. Something like me making a recipe that calls for 2 Legs and 1 Arm of Policeman and my friends all knowing it means 2.5 ingots of Copper.

I know the word alchemy comes from the Arabic al-kimia and that it eventually developed into chemistry, but I've always associated it with the worst of the Dark Ages in Europe--charlatans or wannabe magicians in smoke-filled, poorly lit cellars full of of mummified animals and just generally gross stuff that is not my jam.

I'm wondering now if that's because medieval alchemists were reading a lot of things literally that weren't meant to be taken that way. There's a reference in one of Maddalena's article's to a rare case where "human excrement" called for in a recipe is revealed to actually mean "garlic." I can see a lot of ancient alchemists laughing up their sleeves.

I had just learned during a trip to Naples the previous summer that the alchemy of Renaissance philosophers like Pico Della Mirandola was very different from the stuff in the basements of Prague. Instead of dreckapotheke, they were translating texts from the Ancients Greeks, texts that were perhaps based on the very tablets from the 7th Century BCE that Maddalena was studying. I promptly begged to observe her next experiment.

She very graciously said yes, so I went down to a lab at Case and I wish I had taken better notes, but I did not, so what I've got is a bunch of pictures, and I'll have to go back and badger Maddalena for details.

These are the ingredients for the next round of testing.

They will be mixed into a solution in the flask on the right and then heated on a burner.

Then silver tablets will be dipped into the solution:

And turn gold!

Not *into* gold. That was not the plan. Hope you aren't disappointed.

If you thought the object of alchemy in those dark basements in Prague was turn to lead into gold, yeah me, too. And maybe it was, but the alchemy of the ancient Near East seems to have been more clear that transmutation wasn't on offer. After reading some of Maddalena's articles, I now know there were four main practices of alchemy back in the day: coloring silver gold, making a silver alloy that still looked like silver, coloring glass to look like precious stones, and dying wool purple without using those expensive snail shells from Tyre.

I talked about alchemy a lot (really, a lot, everyone was very patient) at a recent writing retreat. Erin Bow called it the Science of Knock Offs.

There are multiple ancient sources that say that this "holy and divine art" (hē hiera kai theia technē) was taught to mankind by fallen angels who were sharing the secrets of heaven. I know it seems ridiculous that an all knowing divine being is going to focus on the Secret Science of Knock Offs, but the more I I think about it, the more I can see it.

ARMUMAHEL: We will share with you the great mysteries of heaven!

MANKIND: . . .

ARMUMAHEL: I can save you some money on purple dye.

MANKIND: YAY!

SAMYAZA: So how did the secret sharing go today, Armumahel? Did they ask about the language of birds? The control over monsters of the deep?

ARMUMAHEL: I told'em how to make glass marbles look like sapphires.

SAMYAZA: You do know Enoch is writing all this down. His book is going to be stuck in the apocrypha and we're going to be laughing stocks.

ARMUMAHEL: I promised to tell them tomorrow how to turn silver gold.

SAMYAZA: Ah! Transmutation of matter! That's a good one!

ARMUMAHEL: No, not transmutation. They just want the silver bowls on the alter to be yellow and shiny.

SAMYAZA: . . .

My shiny yellow tablet. : )

[carlosainzgf]

thangyu x fem reader 🙈?

like thanos being into namgyu's gf so he ends up fucking them both or something

one thing led to another

thanos x fem!reader (x nam gyu) (smut)

warning: cheating. (i know the req said “fucking them both” but i just can’t find nam gyu attractive so i couldn’t write smut with him in it so he gets cheated on. sorry)

the famous thanos went to a club. club petangon. he was gonna ask the club promoter to have an event in the club. as soon as he walked in fans went up to him, asking for pictures. he sat down at a booth as fans kept throwing themselves at him and he was being his normal cocky self. but then a specific guy caught his attention. well, not really. the girl that was with the guy caught his attention.

the guy was talking to someone as the girl waited for him, his arm thrown over her shoulder.

thanos looked at the guys name tag- nam gyu. the promoter he was supposed the meet with. but thanos’ attention wasn’t on him. he was looking at her. the girl that was probably nam gyu’s girl. she looked bored as she waited for him, looking around, her eyes met thanos’. he raised his hand and gave her a small wave, as if they already knew each other, she copied the act with a small smile. her movement caught nam gyu’s attention.

his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. he turned to where you were looking, seeing thanos waving back to you. his lips formed into a straight line. he clearly wasn't happy about it. nam gyu pulled away from the conversation and walked over to thanos, still holding you but tighter than before, as if he was showing you were his. not that it mattered to thanos.

once nam gyu came over to him, a smirk spread over his cheeks. this was fun. he saw how tight nam gyu held you now. he was clearly irritated. how nam gyu was "claiming you" was kinda pathetic to thanos.

“hey you’re thanos, right?” you asked before either of them could talk.

his smirk grew wider when you spoke before nam gyu could. he looked at you, chuckling as he heard your question. he nodded as he spoke “yes, yes, I am. and who are you?"

he looked between you and nam gyu, his eyes lingering at you. “she’s my girl. y/n.” nam gyu said before you could answer. he didn’t even turn his gaze away from you when nam gyu talked. seeing how nam gyu answered for you made him chuckle. this was getting funnier.

"y/n? cute name. a cute name for such a cute girl" he stated. you thanked him before sitting down, nam gyu sitting down with you. thanos got to talking about having an event here and how it would be good for both the clubs and his name. even tho he was talking to his eyes were mostly on you, not nam gyu’s.

they exchanged numbers, to talk about the details. nam gyu didn’t like thanos, not when he had eyes for his girl but he was right. it would be good pr. as you three sat, nam gyu’s phone rang and he got up saying he would be back.

as soon as he left thanos pulled you close to him and threw his arm around you. legs touching, faces closer than necessary.

“so…how did you end up with a guy like him? hm?” he asked.

“i came here a lot and we eventually met and one thing led to another.”

"one thing led to another, huh? . interesting" he spoke trough a grin. “he doesn't seem like your type. you seem too good for him" he kept a close eye on nam gyu as you two talked, seeing how more and more angry he was getting.

“he’s not. but we aren’t serious anyway.”

he pulled you even closer, still looking at nam gyu from the corner of his eye,

"not serious? and yet he's getting jealous, and claiming you as his. you sure you two arent serious?"

“to me we aren’t.” you answer teasingly.

being the straightforward man he is he said “and if I were to ask you out? would you accept my offer? since you aren't serious with nam gyu"

a smile crept up on your face, “i’ll think about it.” he liked how you were playing with him. “yeah? make sure you let me know when you decide. i'll be waiting, pretty girl." with that he gave you his number

you sure was going to give him a call.

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

it was late at night, nam gyu had called you over but he had to leave because of some trouble at the club so you were left alone in his apartment. sitting and scrolling through your phone, when boredom hit you. and then you remembered thanos. what’s the harm of giving him a call, right?

you waited a couple seconds for him to answer the phone.

“hi. who’s this?” god he had an amazing voice.

“im the girl from the club. y/n. remember me?”

“how could i forget, beautiful. so what do i owe the pleasure?” god that voice.

“im a little bored…nam gyu stood me up. im at his apartment right now and he won’t be back a while” you said whining, “…wanna have a tour?”

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

having a tour turned into having shared glasses of wine that to lingering touches. one thing led to another. you were soon on his lap, kissing lazily and messily. his hands were on your hips guiding you to grind on his bulge.

“gonna let me fuck you? hm?” he let out between kisses.

“please…need it.” you said as you played with his hair.

“why’s that, baby? doesn’t nam su fuck you good enough? i knew you were too good for him. ‘m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even remember his name.”

he picked you up and walked towards the bedroom. nam gyu’s bedroom. he laid you down onto the bed gently. nam gyu’s bed. he kissed you with such passion that it made you think you were his girl not nam gyu’s.

he slowly undressed you. kissed down your body, paying extra attention to your breasts.

catching your nipple between his teeth, biting slightly but licking and kissing it away afterwards to soothe the pain away. moving down your body, he kissed your belly, thighs and rubbed his lips over your slit. you grew impatient at his teasing so you gripped his purple hair signaling him to get to work.

he sloppily made out with your pussy, like he was devouring a full course meal after not eating for days. his face was covered with your wetness and dripping with his spit. the mix of wetness ran down thighs he licked it back up, not wanting to waste a drop. he let his teeth graze over the bundle of nerves.

his hands kept your legs open and as his tongue focused on your clit. your back arched from the bed and you bit down harshly on your lip, containing your moans as you came on his tongue.

he licked up everything you gave him, guiding you through your high until your legs shook. as you came down from your high, he lifted his head, lips and chin soaked with your juices. eyes dazed and full of lust. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him up into a steamy kiss that had you tasting yourself.

he played with your sensitive pussy, as it was just devoured by him, as you kissed. you tried to pull away because the sensation was just too much. breathless, you tried to talk but couldn’t say anything.

“oh, baby…can’t talk? was my tongue too good? wait till i have my cock in you, baby.” god he was so cocky. and you loved it.

“i need you, thanos. fuck me.” your eyes met his lust filled ones as you spoke. he was quick to undress and get on top of you again.

slowly, he lined his very hard and leaking cock with your entrance and pressed inside, a groan slipping from his lips as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling you as he filled you up, inch by inch.

“fuuuck- i can barely put the tip in, baby. he had you for himself for so long and couldn’t even stretch you out. such a shame. a beautiful girl like you deserves good dick.”

the stretch of his dick made you see stars. your eyes rolled back as your pussy practically sucked him in. when he finally bottomed out you were out of breath. your legs pulled him just a little closer, the ache beginning to turn into something pleasant. his hips eased back before rocking forward again. oh, fuck, he was so big you swore you could feel his cock twitch in your belly. it felt like you were going to snap in half.

your nails lightly dug into his shoulders as he started to move, his thrusts slow but rough. he gripped your waist tightly, holding you as he used her body, fucking her with determination. you screamed his name, your nails digging into him enough to leave marka. he hissed in pleasure at the slight pain, his eyes falling closed in bliss. 

the headboard began to slam against the wall, your moans crescendoing and his groans filling the room. sorry nam gyu’s neighbors…

“imagine if he walked in right now? seeing ‘his girl’ screaming another mans name. in his very own bed.” you couldn’t really grasp on what he was saying, your brain too foggy to understand due to pleasure.

“don’t care. just keep fucking me- feels so good!” your moans and yells covered the sound of nam gyu coming into the apartment. thanos may or may not have heard someone coming in but…

you were close to coming and by the way thanos was throbbing inside you signaled you he was close too. you spasmed around his length with a screamish moan as you came, not hearing the door opening. thanos pumped you full of his cum. his cum and your juices seeped out of you as thanos breathed out at your neck with his body flush against yours, naked bodies intervened. he held you as you both calmed down when you were rudely interrupted by nam gyu’s yelling.

“WHAT THE FUCK-“