#would he even care that much to do something like that??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trivia-yandere · 3 days ago

Note

does milf oc ever get jealous at the thought of jungkook possibly having girls after him at college…? 🤭

well let us see

m.i.l.f (4)

you visit the dorm rooms one evening to restock your sons necessities expecting for him and his roommate to be out; yet you aren't so lucky.

word count: 4.178

warning: age difference, milf reader, smut, dirty talk, humping, nipple sucking, jungkook is a yearner, milf reader is also whipped, impregnation/breeding kink, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, possessive sex,

part 1 | two | three

You sigh once you slam your car door shut and proceed to lock it. You’ve managed to hold six bags as you walk up the concrete stairs to the dorm rooms. You weren’t expecting to get a message from Dash stating that he needed more snacks and drinks for his dorm, stating that he and Jungkook had gone through them all.

Truthfully, it was all your sons doing as he was known to snack more than Jungkook, but you were his mother. You had gotten everything he asked for and then some and now here you were.

The dorm room hallways were dimly lit and quiet. During the weekend it was like a ghost town and it allowed you to come in freely just like this without having to sign in. You hoped when you walked in there you wouldn’t come to a complete mess. Jungkook was a naturally organized person and you’re positive being with Dash had to be annoying.

Jungkook.

Your mind travels to the last time you saw him was at dinner and that was nearing a week ago. You had basically kicked him from your home to go to a party and he had not made an attempt to speak with you. You aren’t sure if this was the end for you and him - and if it was, then you should be glad.

Right?

You would be lying if you said Jungkook wasn’t the best fuck you had in years. You had several one night stands, sure, but that wasn’t exciting. You’ve dated men throughout your time, but that also didn’t lead anywhere as Dash always came first and they didn’t like that.

Jungkook was far more attentive than anyone you’ve ever met. Him pleasuring you was something he actually enjoyed doing - as if it brought him his own pleasure. He had more stamina than any man you’ve had before and it didn’t help that he was insanely attractive.

Even Dash’s father didn’t last - obviously. You getting pregnant was an act of two horny teenagers and all the responsibility was left on you. While he went on to go to college, you had to stay behind and work and raise Dash while his parents paid you on his behalf. He visited only when he was on break, and when he graduated college and got into his respected career, being a father was the last thing on his mind.

Maybe you couldn’t blame him much - but then again you could. It was around that time of year for him to visit and pretend he cared about his child.

You reach Dash’s door and sigh. Dash told you that he and Jungkook were at another party and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. But maybe it was childish to feel any type of way - Jungkook wasn’t yours to be territorial of. He was nothing but a good fuck that so happened to be your sons friend. You were growing far too comfortable with having him pleasure you that in the end, he could be doing this to someone else.

You open the door to the dorm room and close it behind you. The lights are off, but the led lights surrounding the walls are on and suspiciously, they’re red. Your eyes squint into the bedroom and you let out another sigh of finding a line of clothes onto the floor that belonged to your son.

You drop the bags onto the ground and you begin to stock them onto the shelves and mini fridge.

You’re far too engrossed in organising that you don’t notice the bathroom door open and close and footsteps come closer.

“Mommy?”

You drop a can of soda and yelp when it cracks open and begins to fuzz. You go to grab it, turning your head to look at the sound of the voice.

This was highly unfortunate.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, lifting to your feet to throw out the soda can. “...why are you here?”

“In my…dorm room?” Jungkook cracks a smile. He’s naked - only sporting a towel; again, how unfortunate. Not because you don’t find the man attractive and would be willing to mound him, but because you thought you were having enough self-control lately.

“Dash said you and him were at a party.” you murmur. You turn your head away with warm cheeks.

“He stayed.” Jungkook licks his lips. “He was occupied.”

“With Hana?” you question, not truly caring if he was or not.

Jungkook snorts. “Sure,” he says with a shrug. He hasn’t seen Hana since dinner and that was the norm with Dash.

“I’m only here to stock up on snacks and drinks.” you nod towards the newly stocked shelves. “I should be going-”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. He takes a seat onto his neatly made bed opposite of the disheveled one of Dash’s.

“What do you mean?” you scoff.

“What’s your issue?”

You knit your brows.

“You’ve been avoiding me, mommy.”

You want to laugh at Jungkook’s words. “I’ve been avoiding you?”

In the red light, Jungkook thinks you look hot. Especially while irritated. He knows that what he’s doing is a form of manipulation by putting the blame on you. He had decided to ignore you - against his best wishes; he missed you so much. You were obviously upset about hearing Yvette’s name that it caused you to push him away.

Witnessing Yvette at her party had irritated him enough to leave said party early against Dash’s wishes. He had driven home wanting to call you, but instead decided against it. He wanted to see how far it would go until he could see you again.

To think Jungkook was going to facetime you tonight, but here you were. It was like the universe was speaking to him now.

“Yes. You haven’t called me.” Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t care if his towel is slowly unravelling.

“I never call you.” you squint your eyes, pondering what in the world he was going on about.

“Exactly, mommy. It’s like you don’t care about me.” Jungkook pouts a bit. “Or is it because you want me to keep following you like some type of lovesick teenager.”

You tilt your head. What game was Jungkook playing here? If anything, you should be questioning him. Why in the world would he give you the best dick in years and then ghost you for Yvette?

You mentally curse at yourself for sounding like this. You weren’t the age to care what in the world a man did - especially one your son's age.

Jungkook watches you for a moment before snorting.

“You can’t even admit that you were using me.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re probably off to the next college boy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “Am I some type of cougar to you?!” you hiss at him. Why you were still here discussing anything with Jungkook was beyond you. Dash could walk through that door any moment now and see you with his nearly naked friend.

“No.” Jungkook answers swiftly. “I just thought you liked me for me.”

“I do like you, Jungkook.” you say between gritted teeth. You cannot believe you were having this conversation. “It’s just not morally correct for us to do this. You know that.”

“Then why haven’t you walked out yet?” Jungkook questions. You were asking yourself the same thing. “Since you want to be so “morally correct”.”

You stand a bit straighter. “I will.”

Jungkook leans forward, watching you. Witnessing him in the red lights in person was far better than over the phone - yet you couldn’t allow yourself to grow weak. Not now while he was obviously testing you.

“Have a good night, Jungkook.”

You turn away from him, deciding that he could organize the rest of the snacks. Whenever Dash returned, you didn’t need to be here. It was risky already sneaking around with his best friend - no matter how much of a rush it was.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and just as you open it, it closes once more. A tattooed arm is right beside your head. Another hand locks the door swiftly, leaving you caged between the door and him.

“Jungkook.”

Your tone is so soft, yet stern like that it causes Jungkook’s cock to harden instantly.

“Yes?”

“I have to go.”

“Why? Dash won’t be back.” Jungkook states - because he texted Dash himself and told him to stay out. It was a code that the both of them came up with when the other had company over. Dash was far too oblivious to realize that recently, his eyes only ever been on you. “I missed you. You pushed me away, mommy.”

You take a deep breath. “You should be with girls your own age-”

“I knew that was why!” Jungkook quips. “Yvette is just a friend.” He wouldn’t call her that, but it was wrong to say that she was nothing to him entirely. It made sense in Jungkook’s mind.

“If I had her do you think I would be craving you every time?”

And there it was, the hand around your waist to bring you closer. The nose against your neck to inhale that sweet scent he enjoyed so much.

Fuck.

“I missed you so much, mommy. Just stay for a while.”

This was wrong.

You couldn’t stay here in the dorms. What the fuck were you going to do if Dash did come? How would you explain that?

What if somehow someone knew you were here and you were charged with something - or Jungkook or Dash?

Why hadn’t you said no to Jungkook and why hadn’t you stopped his wandering hands?

“Please, mommy. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted you.”

And of course you folded, allowing Jungkook to pull you to his bed. It’s a dorm and the biggest you could fit in here were full-size beds, but it was big enough for Jungkook and you. Somehow, you were out of your clothes in under 3 minutes and beneath his covers. Your mind screams at you to act like the grown adult you were and get out of whatever spell you were under, but your core was begging for you to stay.

“You didn’t miss me even a little bit?” Jungkook murmurs, hovering above you. His lips are kissing along your neck, leaving behind wet trails.

“I did.” you admit, as stupid as it was to.

“You pushing me away kept me horny all night, mommy. I guess we’ll have to make that up.”

Jungkook never cared about being quiet while he was in the doors - especially during the weekends when it was as quiet and dead as it was. That meant that he could do whatever he wanted and he was fully intending on doing just that. And it always started with your breast - the perfect mounds to sit right in the palms of his hands. His hands roam your body as he finds his mouth wrapping onto your right one. His cock rubs against your naked core, sliding past your clit.

You let out a hushed moan, your body reacting for you. You actually missed having Jungkook on you - suckling onto your breast needily and treating your body with pleasure. It was insane to say aloud; but damn was it the truth.

“We can’t do this forever, Kookie.”

Jungkook’s right hand keeps you in place so he can easily rut his cock against your now wet clit. He groans against your nipples, popping it in and out of his mouth like a lollipop. His eyes glance up at you, appearing entirely too sinful underneath these same red lights.

“Why not, mommy?”

There were a thousand and one reasons why. Jungkook was just horny and so were you. Eventually his life would continue on after college and so would yours - you couldn’t continue this. But for now, it would do. You would allow Jungkook to fuck you so good that you’d lose all of your morals.

“I don’t want to fuck anyone else. I want you.”

Jungkook’s tongue licks up from your breast to your collarbones. He goes towards your neck next and sinks his teeth down onto your skin. He continues to rub against your clit, groaning and grunting against your neck while you let out a hushed gap.

“Your pussy is always so good, mommy. What do you expect me to do?”

Your pussy’s throbbing now. Jungkook’s hand grips your thigh just as you begin to buckle it to meet his thrusts.

“I think about you all the time. I think about you creaming on my cock like you do. About me cumming in you so deep that you’d end up pregnant.”

That was new, causing you to let out a low gasp - one that Jungkook notices immediately when he slides past your clit.

“You’d like that, right, mommy? Me cumming in you so much that I’d get you pregnant? I’d actually be a good father to our child.”

This was sick, you think. There was no way this was exciting you. You were a grown woman, for fucks sakes!

But it’s the way that Jungkook says it - so low and sultry. His voice so husky and full of lust that it’s far too appealing for you not to moan and now your head, your thighs caging him closer to you. “You’d be so pretty pregnant, mommy. Your breast would grow bigger with milk. You’d look so hot.” Jungkook grumbles the last part, this time his hand reaching behind you to grip your ass entirely. His tip is right at your hole now. “I could fuck you right now, mommy. Get you full of my cum…”

Jungkook is speaking, but you notice he isn't talking to you anymore. It’s as if he’s speaking to himself - should he or should he not?

But Jungkook does. He enters you without a second thought - nor do you fight him off. Your pussy wraps around him so heavily like it usually does, and each time he’s as shocked as the last.

Now Jungkook’s mind is fully engrossed with the thought of you being pregnant. He would like to think he would be a good father - better than Dash’s. He knew enough to know that a father that only saw their kid maybe 4 times out the year wasn’t a father. He wouldn’t prioritize himself over you or his child; he wasn’t selfish.

Nor was Jungkook a broke college student like most. He was here because he had to be; it was mandatory if he wanted to remain in his grandfather’s will. It was mandatory if he wanted to leave here and join his family company. He didn’t need a degree that was going to get him nowhere; it was only a hobby for him - for the rest of his cousins attending and scattered in the dorms.

You didn’t need to know that; not yet.

“Fuck, mommy.” Jungkook pounds into you greedily. His hands grip your ass, your squelching pussy music to his ears. Your legs are hiked onto his shoulders. “You’re so wet. You want a baby, don’t you?”

The sane part of you was already ashamed. You had allowed Jungkook far into your life (and body) that he was able to do or say whatever he wanted. He had you naked in under five minutes and fucking in under ten. His cock was so deep in you that you were seeing red covered stars.

“Yes, Kookie!” you squeal. “Your cock is so big!”

“And you love it.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, drilling your pussy with no remorse.

“I do love it!”

You were being too loud, you think, but you cannot find it in you to care right now. Jungkook, in the little time you’ve allowed him to fuck you, has managed to make you cum. Countless times. Within multiple sex acts.

This was a rarity and damn was it hard to find.

Jungkook pulls out suddenly and before you can whine, he replaces his cock with three of his fingers. He begins to pump with the same speed as his cock, connecting his tongue to your clit.

“Kook-kie!” you gasp. The sudden action has your mind swirling.

Jungkook has wanted to taste you since the same night you told him to go. He wanted to have his tongue on you again and again and again - but he didn't. So he had to take what he deserved.

Your legs are shaking, feeling the overstimulating pleasure build through you. You cannot help with how fast you were going to cum - not when you had an overachiever like Jungkook. Your hand grips his hair to keep his tongue in place, your hips grinding against his tongue.

Jungkook’s dark eyes glanced up at you, enjoying the way you were loving every minute of this. An action no one but him can do - only what he should be doing to you. He allows you to take a bit of control and keep him against your greedy cunt, wanting more and more until you physically couldn’t take anymore.

‘“I’m gonna cum, Kookie…!”

Jungkook only suckles hardly, allowing his fingers to pump faster and faster. He wanted you to cum all over his tongue; to use him as if he was your personal fuck toy. If only he could be day in and out; to feel and taste you at any given moment of the day.

Jungkook’s cock throbs to be inside you again.

“You’re always so good for mommy, Kookie.”

Your toes are curling as you’re cumming, your vision blurring a bit. Jungkook’s own eyes close as you begin to cum, arousal pooling out of you and coating his hand entirely, but he doesn’t want your pleasure to end - not even when you’re squealing and shaking.

Jungkook forces you onto your stomach next, hiking your hips up and he enters you. He’s fully in charge again - yet he never never stepped down. One hand is on your back, forcing you down while the other is on your hips. He pounds into you disrespectfully, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

You’re continuing to squeal into his cotton sheets, hands gripping them for support. Your ass is amazing - it always is in this position. He’s so deep that he can cum in you right now; bury you with warm seed that there isn’t any way you cannot fall pregnant.

“Such a hungry pussy, mommy. You’re doing so good.”

It was all too much to handle. Your pussy continues to leak with arousal, coating your thighs and his bedsheets entirely. You’ve unable to form words at the moment and only continue to babble or moan, but it was okay with Jungkook. He knew that only he knew how to fuck you this good.

“I know you already have a son, mommy, so I hope we have a daughter. She’ll be so cute just like you.” Jungkook laughs gleefully, his cock springing in and out of your wet core. “And if we have a son, I guess we’ll have to try again.”

Jungkook forces a hand between your legs, teasingly tapping your swollen clit. It was sickening how wet and overstimulated you were.

“Only I can fuck you, mommy. Say it.”

You can’t - not now. Not with how well you were being fucked - completely used like a ragdoll.

“Say. It.” Jungkook hisses, his wet hand grabbing your throat and forcing you up against him. “Say that you belong to me, mommy.” Jungkook pressed, his demeanor changed entirely. His thrusts are punishing.

“Only…to…you…” you force out, clenching pussy milking his cock for everything you wanted from him.

“Only mine to fuck, right? You won’t be a whore and cheat on me, right, mommy?” Jungkook asks, squeezing your throat. “You’re so fucked out and drunk off of cock that you’d say anything.”

Both hands grip your breast, but still Jungkook plunges his cock inside of you. It isn’t as though you’re in his college dorm with how disrespectfully he fucks you. But neither of you care - you’re drowning in overstimulation.

“Look at you, mommy. So fucked out and squirting all over me.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll ruin your life if you ever think you’re going to leave me and give such a sweet pussy to someone else.”

“It’s too much, Kookie.” you let out another squeal as another high bubbles up.

“I bet it is.” Jungkook spats. You don’t even realize what he’s saying to you - you were so cute. “You aren’t going to leave me. Say it.”

“I-I’m not going to leave you, Kookie.” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut yet again as you cum all over his sloppy cock. He was going to cum right in your pussy like he always does.

“F-Fuck.” Jungkook stutters. His eyes dart to the corner of his room and he smirks, the camera well hidden and only for him to see. The amount of footage he has taken on this exact bed could not compare to the footage of you he has - only for his eyes only, of course. Or, to blackmail you if you ever did decide to leave him.

Warm cum shoots right into you and you sigh, letting out a soft cry.

You want to say you don’t know when the last time you bought yourself a morning after pill.

But you cannot - because you never had. Your son was going to be graduating college soon and here you were purchasing a morning after pill.

You should be ashamed of yourself and the amount of carelessness you’ve managed to put yourself through in the last few weeks.

You managed to not get pregnant after Dash, and now you just couldn’t stop fucking.

Jungkook has fucked you on every inch - of his side - of the dorm room. Against the wall, in the surprisingly clean bathroom while you and he bathed - an act that caught even you off guard. You were so dick drunk that you rode him until he was begging you to let him cum - it was insane.

You managed to sneak out before the sun rose and went to the nearest convenient store to be judged by a middle age woman.

You close your eyes after you swallow the pill. You rest your head against the cool window and let out a soft sigh.

Was this where your life came to? Fucking Jungkook and allowing him to treat you like a cumbucket whore?

Your phone sounds so loud that it startles you. The name on the phone causes your eyebrows to shoot.

“Dash’s Dad” is labeled and instantly you want to scream. It was not the right time.

“What?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

The voice irritates you instantly.

“I’ll be landing soon.”

“And…you’re telling me for what?” you snicker. “Call an uber.”

He sighs. “Are you always this cold, Y/N?”

“Dash is in college.” you sigh. “You don’t need to call me anymore to get in contact with him.”

He does - only because he and you both know Dash won’t answer. Maybe it was the thought that counts.

“I was thinking I can stay at yours.”

“Hell. No.”

Your hand squeezes the phone. To think this man had the audacity-

“Why? Found yourself a man?”

“Why the fuck is that any of your business?!” you snap.

“That means no.” he snickers. "I'll be staying at the house that I've bought. But..." he trails off. “I was thinking we can go to dinner. Talk, you know?” he speaks.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about-”

“While I’m paying his tuition, yes there is.”

That was low. Dash didn’t even know that, nor were you going to tell him. It was a part of the agreement you made with his parents. They assisted with funding Dash while he went to college and in return, he would do the same for the son he barely had any interest in raising.

Until now apparently.

“What do you want?” you snicker with a shake of your head. “You want to come around out of nowhere and pretend to be a family man?”

“I’ve been trying-”

“You tried when he was 15.” you interrupt. “You promised to see him but haven’t done anything but send a check. Do I have to remind you that you missed his high school graduation or…?”

This is why you avoided speaking with him for so long. It ended with you being pissed at the memories of your son being disappointed time and time again.

“I’m trying, Y/N. Can you give me a little grace?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I’ll be expecting for us to go to dinner-”

“I’ll cook instead.” you interrupt. You didn’t want to even be seen with that man.

“Fine.” he scoffs. “Then we can discuss some things.”

You don’t even want to know at this point. Was it bad to wish that whatever plane he was on would crash and only he would be the one to not survive it?

“Whatever.”

“Bring your little boyfriend, Y/N. I know someone as graceful as-”

You hang up the phone before he can continue to piss you off.

You’re unsure why your mind drifted to Jungkook at the thought of “boyfriend”.

trivia-yandere: okay so like, not so much yandere yet but as you can see we're planting seeds... :3

part five coming soon...to think this was only supposed to be four parts

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @marylight098 @youcallmeana @allie-in-the-moon @boonbyu @chimmy-licious @llallaaa @hyeinwluv85s @busanbby-jjk @bts-ruu @marylight098

#m.i.l.f.#explicit-tae #trivia-yandere #bts smut #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #jungkook x reader #bangtanwriters net #bangtanwritershq #bangtan smut #jungkook smut #best friends mom #bts college au

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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 days ago

Text

♡ Motivation ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingi x chubby!fem!reader x best friend!yunho

♡ Genre: smut/angst

♡ Summary: Yunho hasn't been able to get you out of his head or his life since the night his best friend Mingi fell for you. He tries to look at you as his best friend's girlfriend, surpressing any forbidden feelings that arise for you, but one night and a single forgotten pair of panties is all it takes to make him break. What will he do when you walk in on him in one of his most vulnerable moments? More importantly, what will you do?

♡ Word Count: 7.9k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader's the brat of all brats, just a tad bit manipulative, both Mingi and Yunho simp for her hard, some subby boy vibes w/ a lil dom Mingi, a lil dom reader, jealous Mingi, perv Yunho, kissing, male masturbation, panty sniffing/licking, deep throating, sexual fantasies, penetrative sex, rough sex, marking, oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, nipple play, choking, low-key breath play, fingering, swallowing, overstumilation, throat fucking, creampie, handjob, things get very wet, general worship, pet names (baby, good boy, baby girl).

♡ A/N: I need to make this clear. This fic is in no way 7.9k words of smut. There's at least 1k words of something else in there so, ya know, I'm not a total pervert (I am a total pervert 💜). I have so much more planned for this trio but this is what I have for now and I hope all of my sexy chubby babes out there have fun with it. Love you my darlings.

There’s something off about you.

Yunho knew it the moment that Mingi brought you home from the club. It wasn’t a rare occasion for Mingi to bring a girl back to the apartment. Usually Yunho would be right by his side, stumbling through the door with his tongue shoved halfway down the throat of a girl whose panties hit the ground before he could even learn her name.

But that night he made the rare decision to stay home. He had a paper due the next day and it was either lock in or fail. So instead of partying with his friends, scoping out his prey for the night, he spent his time rotting on the couch, staring at his laptop until his retinas burned out. Fully consumed by the task at hand, he hardly noticed what time it was when the front door clicked open and you came skipping through like you owned the place.

“Ooh, a smart one” you teased, leaning over the back of the couch to grab a peek at his screen.

You smelled like strawberries and cream with the faintest hint of vodka. Fresh. Sweet. Edible. Your lips were glossy and plush, tinted with a shade of pink that made them particularly kissable. Even by the quickest glimpse of you in his peripheral he could tell that you were pretty. Not pretty like things people take pictures of. Pretty like things men start wars over.

“What’s your name?” you asked, extending a smooth, manicured hand out to greet him.

Mingi groaned, his arms already around your waist to usher you towards the bedroom, “It doesn’t matter what his name is.”

“Yunho” he managed, turning to get his first full look at you. Heat rushed to his cheeks at the sight of you in that tiny black dress. It clung to your curves for dear life, making every part of you look especially plump in ways that made the heat rush to other parts of his body.

“Yunho?” you giggled, your fingers skimming his, leaving little sparks of electricity dancing at his fingertips. You didn’t say his name. You sang it like a lullaby, your eyes seeming to twinkle at the sound of it. “I like that name.”

Mingi was all over you, ready to tear you apart, and you were doing nothing at all to stop him but somehow you still seemed fixated on Yunho. Or maybe he was the one fixated on you. “I’ll see you later, Yunho” you winked, Mingi nibbling at your neck just enough to make you moan it out.

You were just another girl. Mingi’s girl at that. Yunho knew he shouldn’t care and yet he found himself staring at the spot you were once in long after you’d left it. He couldn’t understand what it was about you but he wanted you to come back. Lean over the couch again. Whisper in his ear. Say his name.

“Yunho? I like that name.”

Shrugging it off, he rubbed his exhausted eyes, dragging his attention back to the task at hand. What he felt was nothing. Just some weird side effect of sleep deprivation. It’d be gone in the morning and so would you. Only that wasn’t true at all. The feeling didn’t go away and neither did you. Not that morning or the morning after that or the morning after that. Mingi kept bringing you around and that feeling—this almost surreal pull you seemed to have to you—only worsened with each passing day.

Mingi felt it too. Yunho knew that he did. The only difference was that Mingi could indulge in it. In less than a week you were Mingi’s girlfriend and he was crazy about you. Ravenous almost. Yunho had never seen him get this way over a girl. Anything you wanted, everything you wished for. You only had to ask and Mingi would stop the world to make sure you had it. More than once Yunho wanted to stop his best friend and ask, “What’s she doing to you?” Were you a witch? A demon? Some magic being that had cast a spell upon his best friend, making him your zombie slave.

Whatever you were, your presence in the apartment was driving Yunho insane. He couldn’t stand to hear your voice because he heard it in his dreams. He couldn’t stand to see your face because it’s all he pictured when he closed his eyes at night. Anytime your body was anywhere near him his fingers seemed to tingle with the urge to touch you. Even when you weren’t around the scent of your perfume lingered in the air so that he couldn’t forget you once. Not for a second. Your existence was a small form of torture. Wanting you, longing for you, but not being able to have you was enough to make him insane.

There’s something off about you and Yunho can’t explain it. He can’t justify why he so desperately needs Mingi to get rid of you and he can’t justify why he’s standing outside of the bathroom door listening to you as you sing in the shower, blissfully unaware of his presence. It wasn’t his intention to end up here. He’d been on his way to the kitchen to grab a snack when he noticed the door was cracked and the shower was on. Naturally he’d assumed it was Mingi but before he could go on his way your singing pulled him back.

You’re adorable when you sing. You’ve done it around him before—cheesy pop songs at karaoke nights—and each time he finds it more endearing than the last. In the back of his mind he knows he shouldn’t be standing here. He doesn’t even know why he’s standing here. Maybe the answer’s something wholesome like him wanting to be near you when you’re doing something cute or maybe it’s something filthy like him getting hard at the knowledge that on the other side of that door you’re completely naked. Or maybe it’s somewhere in between. Either way he knows it’s not right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be feeling this.

“Get it together. What’s wrong with you?” he groans, raking his hands down his face. He presses his palms into his cheeks, fingers drumming at his temples. “We have to get out of here.”

“Hello?” you call out and Yunho’s heart stops dead in his chest. He doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t even breathe. He couldn’t if he wanted to. There’s no way you heard him.

“Hello?” you repeat, peeking your head out from behind the shower curtain. Fuck, you heard him. You wait a moment, positive that you heard something but not entirely sure what. Glancing over at the mirror you catch the reflection of a silhouette just outside the door. “Mingi, if you’re trying to scare me it won’t work. I can see you.”

Yunho’s plan to run in the other direction is halted by your words. You’ve already seen him. He can’t just run away now. If he does and you mention it to Mingi later you’ll know it was Yunho anyway. You’ll think he’s a creep and a pervert. As if him standing here to begin with does anything to argue against that theory.

Clearing his throat, Yunho digs deep to find the most normal explanation for his current position. “I’m sorry. I just had to use the bathroom. I didn’t know—”

“Oh, Yunie! Hold on a second!” Switching the water off, you reach out to grab your towel from the hook and toss it around yourself. “I’m sorry if I was hogging the bathroom” you apologize, hurrying out to gather your things. You expect him to come in but when he doesn’t you open the door yourself to find him standing there like a lost puppy. A terrified lost puppy.

“Yunie, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…uh…I…” he stutters, struggling to find the right words—or any words at all—in the presence of your half naked body in front of him. Even wrapped in a towel you’re glorious to look at. What skin that's left showing is more than enough to fuel the imagination and he wishes it weren’t.

“You…uh…you what?” you tease, feeling guilty when he averts his gaze from you, his energy growing even more anxious than before. “Calm down. I’m just messing with you. Seriously though, everything okay?” You rest your hand on his chest, smoothing over the soft white cotton of his t-shirt. His chest tenses at your touch, his heart picking up speed. It thumps against your hand like the beating of a drum and you twiddle your fingers along to the tune. “If you ever need anything, Yunie—”

Yunho slips around you to get into the bathroom, knowing he’ll combust if you touch him for any longer. “Thanks but I’m good, really. I just needed to use the bathroom.”

You giggle, turning to bid him farewell, “Well alright then. You have fun in here.”

You’re barely out of the bathroom when Yunho’s pushing the door closed behind you, listening for your footsteps before rushing to the sink to splash cold water on his face. This is borderline embarrassing. All you did was touch his chest and he’s short circuiting. What’s wrong with him? The sensation of something pulsing elsewhere on his body brings his attention down below his waist where a rise in his sweatpants has his cock pressed right up against the edge of the sink.

“Seriously? This is not the time” he whispers down at it, knowing that there’s no way he can leave the bathroom in this condition. At least not until he’s sure you’re really gone. Reaching down to readjust himself, his attention’s drawn to something blue lying on the ground near his feet. At first he’s unsure what it is, it’s all bundled up, indiscernible from any other fabric, but when he picks it up there’s no mistaking what the lace blue fabric is or who it belongs to.

Your panties dangle from his fingertips, delicate and pretty, a little silk bow adorning the front band. Yunho’s no stranger to the type of panties that you like to wear—he’s caught a glimpse of them once or twice when your dress was shorter than you might’ve known—but touching them is different and the added knowledge that you’ve worn them has him straining even harder against his boxers. The voice in the back of his head whispers that he should put them back. Leave them right where he found them and walk away before he does something he shouldn’t.

But there’s another side of him, one that would gnaw its own arm off for any piece of you, and it has him burying his face in your panties, every inhale filling his lungs with the sweetness of your scent. He loses himself in thoughts of what it must be like to have his face pushed between your legs, your pillowy thighs resting on his shoulders as he drags his tongue along your slit. His tongue darts out, soaking the lace and he swears he can taste you. His free hand finds the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them aside with his boxers in one swift motion to take himself into his hand.

Yunho hisses at the satisfaction of his palm skimming his length as his cock slips free. “Yunie” you always call him. He doesn’t know when you started calling him that but every time you do it does something to him. Would you call him that while the tip of his tongue’s circling your clit? Would you tug at his hair, grinding yourself against his face, and say “Yunie”? Precum leaks from his cock as he circles the tip, your panties becoming a gag to muffle the sounds escaping his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, desperate not to catch the slightest glimpse of himself in the mirror.

The sick part is he doesn’t know if that’d stop him. He should probably feel bad but there’s no room for a conscience right now. There’s only room for you flooding his taste buds. Only room for the pursuit of a high unlike any he’s felt before. The pressure building inside of him is almost too intense, his knees going weak each time he strokes his cock.

Biting down on the fabric, Yunho feels the muscles in his stomach tighten. His slick fingers dance up and down his shaft as he thrusts into his fist. Are you one of those girls who closes her eyes when she cums or do you leave them open? Would you stare down at him with tears in your eyes, your bottom lip quivering just as you’re on the edge of your high?

“Yunie” you whisper into the void of his fantasies, “I told you if you ever needed anything…”

Your voice sounds so clear. It rings in his ear as if it isn’t coming from the depths of his mind but from you directly. Yunho’s eyes open slowly, cautiously, to find out why it seems that way. Because it is that way. You’re standing right there beside him in your towel, watching him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you realized that you’d left your panties behind you didn’t expect to come back to this but you aren’t exactly complaining. You’ve always known that Yunho had a thing for you and the harder he tries to pretend that he doesn’t the more obvious it is.

You almost feel bad for how much fun you have teasing him when you all hang out together. He probably thinks it’s all accidental. Your hand brushing his when you walk by, your panties peeking out when you bend over, your voice getting a bit lighter when you say his name. All of it’s intentional. Done for the express purpose of seeing how far you can push him before he breaks. Seeing him standing here with your panties stuffed between his lips, his cock leaking all over the tile floor, you figure he must’ve hit his limit. How lucky you are to be here to see it.

Cupping his cheek, you gently trace his jawline, pressing your body against his side. “Don’t stop,” you coo, staring into his warm brown eyes, “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

You’re gorgeous. As gorgeous as you were the day he first saw you. Gorgeous enough to make the word “shame” non-existent. His fingers are still wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing in his grasp as your lips grow closer to his. When you’re close enough to feel the lace brush your lips, you pluck it away with your teeth, no barriers left between the two of you. He’s trembling, on the verge of falling apart and you’ve never wanted anything more.

“Tell me, Yunie. What’s my pussy taste like?” You tilt your head, brushing his lips with yours, and his body shudders one last time before he’s gushing down his hand, warm droplets of cum marking his sweatpants and pooling on the sink. He pulls away from you, fighting back what’s left of his orgasm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he whines, reality hitting him like a freight train. Fumbling to fix his pants, he looks back at you to find you giggling.

“You’re so cute you’re flustered” you say, your panties now secure in your hand. You can see him spiraling. The pleasure of his high and the confusion of your reaction splitting his world in two. Approaching him casually, you offer him a quick peck on the cheek. A treat for a job well done. “You might wanna clean yourself up. Oh and thanks for holding onto these for me” you smile, shoving your panties into his pocket, “But you can keep them.”

Exiting the bathroom as quietly as you came in, you disappear down the hall leaving Yunho alone to pick up the pieces of whatever that moment was. There’s something off about you and now Yunho knows it for sure. But why does that make him want you more?

“Oh come on! Are you serious?” Mingi yells into his headset, the scene playing out on the TV mere seconds from launching him into a blind rage.

You’d advised him to do something relaxing before bed. Listen to some rain sounds. Do some yoga. Drink a nice cup of chamomile tea and read a book. Unsurprisingly, jumping on the game with Jongho and Wooyoung wasn’t anywhere at the top of that list. It wasn’t even on it.

“Stop yelling at him, it’s not his fault!” Jongho shouts back, defending Wooyoung despite knowing that the mistake was kinda his fault.

“Mingi, what’d we say about yelling?” you ask, shuffling past the war zone on screen to grab something from the dresser.

Mingi pouts, sitting up in bed, “It’s not my fault, baby. They’re betraying my moral loyalty here.”

Wooyoung scoffs, surely rolling his eyes on the other end, “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am not dramatic!”

Slipping out of your towel, you toss on a baggy shirt and hop into bed with your boyfriend. “You are kinda dramatic” you tease, cuddling up beside him. Mingi throws a look back at you, one ripe with betrayal, and you rub his lower back to soothe the pain.

Mingi giggles, your fingers like magic to the muscles of his back. “Don’t start. You know that’s my spot.”

Jongho audibly cringes, “Alright. Match over. I’m out before this gets weird.”

“You’re going to bed already?” Mingi whines, “I was just getting started.”

“Tell ‘baby’ we said goodnight” Wooyoung says and Jongho hops right in with him.

“Goodnight, baby.”

“They said goodnight” Mingi huffs, his fingers at the ready to click the game off.

“Goodnight boys!” you sing just before Mingi rips his headset off, tossing it off to the side with his controller.

Never happy to see Mingi sulking, you take him by the arm, guiding him to lay by your side. He settles right in, tucking his arms around your waist to hold you tight. For all the things he’s tried to help him unwind, nothing’s ever seemed to work as much as being next to you has. Just the feeling of your body beside his like this, your fingers massaging his scalp as he runs his hand along the arch of your hip, is enough to make him forget that anything else in the world exists. It’s one of many reasons he rarely ever lets you leave. You wonder why you’re even paying rent at your place at this point. Outside of work 90% of your time is spent here with Mingi and—

You chew at your bottom lip, recalling what occurred a few minutes ago. You and Mingi aren’t the type to keep secrets from each other. Especially not about something like this. It might be Yunho’s worst nightmare for you to tell him but there would’ve never come a day where you didn’t.

“Baby” you sigh, playing up an innocent voice that signals to him you’re about to say something not so innocent.

Mingi grabs his phone, opening it up to check his notifications, “What’d you do?”

“What’d I do? Why’s it always something I did?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that” he swears, kissing you on the nose, “So, what’d you do?”

You tug harshly at his hair, your own bit of revenge, “I didn’t do anything, well, I mean, kinda? You know how I had to go back and get my underwear from the bathroom?”

Mingi nods, invested in some message sent to him through the group chat but still allotting some attention to you.

“Well…” you continue, “I found them and they were kinda…in Yunho’s mouth?”

Mingi begins to type a text message but stops in his tracks at the conclusion of your sentence. “They were what?”

“He kinda sorta had them in his mouth and his dick was in his hand but it wasn’t, like, weird or anything” you ramble, trying to explain enough that the stunned look on your boyfriend’s face fades. If that were ever possible.

Mingi responds to you with a long span of silence broken by hysterical laughter. “I knew it! I knew it! I told you. He’s a pervert.”

“Mingi, he’s not a pervert” you scold, finding the word a tad harsh.

“I mean, I’m a pervert too” he shrugs, “I’m not that much of a pervert though. I knew he liked you but I didn’t know he was that serious about it. That’s kinda pathetic actually.”

“Pathetic? So, what are you saying? You’d never suck on my panties?” you ask, just to get a rise out of him.

Mingi pinches the bottom of your shirt, raising it up to expose your lack of panties. “If you ever wore any around me maybe.”

You swat his hand away, taking your turn to pout, “That’s not the point, Mingi.”

Dropping his phone, Mingi stares intently at you, seriously contemplating Yunho's actions and your reaction to them. “Then what’s the point? You saw him doing it and what? You liked it?”

There’s a shift in the bass of his voice, something different about his body language. You know what it looks like when your boyfriend gets jealous and with a few simple words you’ve more than gotten him there.

“I never said I liked it.”

Mingi rests a hand on your leg, skimming along your velvet skin to tuck a thumb right where your thighs kiss. “You never said you didn’t like it. Is that what you want me to be? Some pathetic little boy beating my dick to you cause I can’t have you for myself?” He slides his thumb up higher, coming into contact with your clit and he can already feel how swollen it is.

A moan threatens to escape you, racing its way to the tip of your tongue but you choke it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What would be so bad about that? Huh? Am I not good enough for you to beg for?” you ask, grabbing his wrist to still the slow circles he makes around your clit.

Pressing harder against the sensitive nub, he grins at how your hips instinctively raise to meet his touch, “Don’t be a brat. You want it.” Even with the death grip you have on his wrist, he manages to sneak two fingers between your legs, dragging them along your entrance. You can feel yourself clenching, your arousal coating his fingers as he teases your slit. He’s right, you do want it, but you want something else much more.

“What I want…” you say, your other hand clamping around his wrist, “Is for you to beg for it or you get nothing and I mean nothing.” You push him away, rolling over on your side, your back turned to him in the ultimate act of defiance. “Goodnight, Mingi.”

It pains you to do this. Your clit’s throbbing from just a few seconds of contact, the warmth pooling below your waist worsening all the while, but you can’t let him have this. You never can.

Mingi cuddles up behind you, his chin propped up on your shoulder. He’s giving you the eyes, those shimmering brown boba eyes that always make you soft for him, but you aren’t even looking his way.

“You aren’t really going to sleep are you?” he pouts, sliding a hand up your shirt to squeeze your side.

You throw out a fake yawn, shifting in bed to get more comfortable, and let your eyes fall closed, pretending he isn’t there. That’s the worst thing you can do to Mingi. Ignore him. Deprive him of your affection. He loves to present himself as indifferent, a man fully unaffected by whether you want him or not, but if you pull away even an inch he’s groveling at your feet. You enjoy it, maybe a little too much, but a girl has to have her fun.

“Baby, turn back over…” he whispers, trailing kisses up your neck. He stops right behind your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, “Please.”

A chill washes over you and you arch your back, pushing your ass back into his growing bulge. You can’t help the faint smile that creeps across your lips at the sound he makes in response. He sounds like he wants you so badly it hurts. Good.

Gently nibbling at your ear, Mingi cups one of your breasts, his thumb and pointer finger coming together to apply light pressure to your nipple as it stiffens for him. “Pretty please. Just turn around. Just look at me, please.”

The decision to give in isn’t an easy one. You could keep going like this all night if you wanted to, letting him have just enough of you to keep him hard until the sun rises, but you decide not to. Not out of compassion or pity but out of your own selfish desire to see the look on Mingi’s face when he’s this needy.

Turning to face him, you find yourself far from disappointed at what you see. He has that look, the same one that Yunho did when he realized you were standing beside him, like the sun sets and rises in your eyes. It’s addictive.

“You want me, Mingi?” you tease, your hand disappearing into his pants to palm the cock that aches so badly for you. You trace the veins along his shaft with your fingertips, feeling the blood rush to its swollen head.

Mingi’s on the verge of a whimper, his mouth crashing into yours in an attempt to conceal it, but it tumbles out anyway and you stroke him faster, always wanting more.

“Want you…mmm…need you” he mumbles between sloppy kisses, his arousal coating your palm. “Please…fuck…I need…I need…”

Snatching your hand back, you grab onto his shoulders, rolling him on top of you. You tug your shirt up over your head to leave yourself naked beneath him, your breasts sitting beautifully on your chest. “If you want me then take me.”

You present it as if it’s a challenge. In a way it is and Mingi has no intention to back down. He’s on you before you can say another word, devouring your figure with his hands. You clumsily help him out of his clothes, tickled by his eagerness. It isn’t that Mingi doesn’t notice your amusement. It’s more so that he doesn’t care when he plans to fuck it right out of you anyway.

“Mingi!” you squeak when he snatches you up, forcing himself between your legs, your ankles resting at his shoulders, his fingers digging into your plush hips.

He aligns himself with your entrance, pushing the tip in to watch your juices leak around him and pulling back out at the last second. Licking his lips, he slides two fingers through your folds, rolling your clit between them. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

“I don’t know” you pant, your body tingling from head to toe, “Show me.”

Technicolor dots sprinkle your vision as he slams into you all at once, his thickness stretching you beyond what you remembered he could. You can’t control the way your body vibrates in response to the pleasure, the fullness almost too much to handle. Mingi reaches out for your neck, his fingers closing around it as his hips snap into you harder. You feel helpless, completely at his mercy, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby” he grunts, his gaze drifting down to the place where your bodies meet. Each and every time he pulls back his cock’s wetter than before, dripping with juices so decadent he’d get down on his knees and lap them up right now if you asked him to. “You think Yunho could get you this wet? Think he could fuck you like me? Hmm?”

You part your lips but nothing comes out, just short uneven breaths mimicking the English language. Mingi leans in close to you, his grip loosening, “Can he do it? Can he fuck you like I can?”

“Aah…n-no…mmph” you moan, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself steady, “Only you, Mingi.” His hand closes around your throat once more and your words are lost again. Hooking an arm behind one of your legs, he pushes your knee to your chest, slipping in even deeper, and your vision blurs with tears, your stangled moans filling the air.

Mingi can’t get over how precious you are. How ridiculously perfect you look taking his cock. From the first night he met you he knew that no other girl could make him feel the way that you do. You fit him like a glove. It’s like every groove and every dip, all the finer details of your walls, were crafted especially for him. Yunho could never make you feel this way because you weren’t made for him. You were made for Mingi. Even your body knows it. It tells him by the way it responds, clenching around him so tightly that he can barely move.

“Baby…” you manage, locking your legs around him. You don’t need to say anything else. Your walls spasm so wildly that he can’t ignore the signs. You’re dangerously close and he’s right there with you. He has been from the start. He could’ve cum from the feeling of you alone and it took everything in him not to.

“Say my name” he commands, reaching between you to play with your clit.

Your body trembles from the overstimulation. It’s like you’re on a rollercoaster. Higher and higher, so high you’d think you were floating, and then that earth shattering, mind blowing drop.

“Mingi!” you cry his name out loud and clear.

Mingi turns your neck loose, enveloping you in a kiss just in time to spill into you, his seed filling you up deep inside, dripping down your thighs to make a warm sticky mess. Your tongues are still entangled when you both come down. Your spent bodies melting into each other’s.

“You can have your fun” Mingi whispers between your lips, “Just make sure you remember who you belong to.”

He eases down on the bed, resting his head on your chest, and you run your fingers through his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead. You smile to yourself, knowing that you got exactly what you wanted in every way. How cute it is that Mingi thinks you’re the one that belongs to him when he’s the one who belongs to you.

He can’t go out there. Yunho’s been pacing his bedroom floor for 15 minutes trying to figure out what to do. But whatever he does he can’t go out there. He thought that if he woke up early enough he’d be able to prevent this but by the time he finished brushing his teeth you were both wide awake. Now he can hear the two of you in the kitchen, playing your music and cooking breakfast like you always do.

He turns to his bedroom window, contemplating how bad a fall from the 6th floor could really be. He’s tall enough to make it…maybe? Maybe he could call out of work. He has enough vacation days to make up for it. He could just crawl back into bed and pretend to be sick, hiding away until both of you left the apartment.

The possibility dawns on him that you haven’t told Mingi at all. If you had, he probably would’ve murdered Yunho in his sleep. If not then why? What reason could you have for keeping this a secret? Then again, what reason do you have for anything you do?

“What? Are you dead?” Mingi says, bursting into Yunho’s room, nearly giving him a heart attack.

Yunho tries to act natural, scrambling to pick up a few things from the floor to pretend he’s cleaning. “Knock much?”

Mingi pats him on the back, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Stop being so sassy. Breakfast is ready. Come eat with us.”

“I-I can’t. I have to get ready for work.”

“You don’t work for what? Another hour? You’ve got time. Come on” Mingi insists, emptying the contents of Yunho’s arms onto the nearby bed.

Yunho stands frozen, unsure what to do. He’s always found Mingi’s stubbornness charming but in this moment he completely despises it. “I told you I can’t—”

“Let’s go!” Mingi cheers, yanking Yunho out towards the kitchen before he can think of protesting again.

Yunho blinks, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunny kitchen where you dance around the table pouring drinks into three glasses. The plates are already set, the delicious aroma of an expertly cooked breakfast filling the apartment. Your food’s always the best, he usually rushes to the table to inhale it, but today he stares at it like it’s been secretly poisoned.

“Good morning, Yunie” you sing, twirling past him to place the container of juice back in the fridge.

Yunho takes a seat, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than he’d like it to. You’re wearing the same shirt from last night with the addition of a pair of rose pink panties and some cute mismatched socks from Mingi’s favorite anime. Your hair’s messy but not a mess and you’ve yet to put your makeup on. Both men prefer you like this but only one can admit it.

Mingi sits across from him, digging right into his meal. “So…” he says through a mouthful of food, “Are we going to Wooyoung’s party later or what?”

“Eat” you whisper, gesturing towards Yunho’s plate and he does. “I don’t know, baby. I just have this feeling that somehow you’re gonna end up on that stupid fucking game and I’ll just be sitting there bored by myself. Unless, of course, Yunie’s gonna come keep me company.”

Yunho nearly chokes on his food, rushing to take a sip of his drink to wash it down. “Keep you company? I don’t think…I mean…I don’t really know if I’ll have time. I’m kinda busy tonight”

Mingi tilts his head, eyeing Yunho curiously, “You’re acting weird today. What’s up with you?”

“Weird? I’m not acting weird.”

“Mingi, leave him alone” you sigh, easing down into Mingi’s lap. You pick a strawberry from the plate of fruit at the center of the table, flicking the leaves away. “If he doesn’t wanna come, he doesn’t wanna come. Maybe our boy has a date or something.”

“I don’t have a date” Yunho’s forcing out so quickly the worlds almost get jumbled. There've been girls in the past, too many to remember, but lately he’s found himself uninterested in them, his brain too preoccupied with one in particular to focus on any others, and for some reason he finds himself longing for you to know that.

You take a bite of the strawberry, your lips pursed sensually around the fruit. Some juice drips down your chin and you wipe it away, licking it from your fingers. “So you’ll come for me then, Yunie?”

Yunho’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. You couldn't have said what he thought you said. He must still be half asleep. “I’m sorry. What’d you just say?”

“You’ll come for me. To the party.”

“Oh…yeah, the party. I’ll come.”

Turning back to feed Mingi the remainder of the strawberry, you share a knowing glance before turning back to Yunho.

“What did you think she said?” Mingi asks, honing in on Yunho’s weak spot like a trained sniper ready to pull the trigger.

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. No one moves. No one speaks. Yunho’s so nervous it’s oozing off of him and you can feel it creeping across the table right into your lap. Just as the tension becomes unbearable you and Mingi erupt into laughter giving Yunho the feeling that there’s a joke he isn’t in on and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Thank you for the food but I really should get ready for work” he huffs, pushing his chair back to get up.

“No, wait, hold on!” you say, hopping from Mingi’s lap right into Yunho’s. You poke out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him sweetly. “I didn’t make you mad did I?”

“I’m not mad at you, I—” his sentence trails off as he registers where you are. Straddling his lap…with no pants on…and your boyfriend sitting close enough to punch his teeth out.

Yunho keeps his hands at his sides, careful not to touch you, but that does nothing to stop you from touching him. Brushing his hair out of his face, you subtly grind yourself down onto his lap, marveling at how handsome he looks fresh out of bed. “You look sexy with your hair pushed back. You should wear it like that tonight.”

“Y-you should get up” he stutters, dodging any chance of eye contact with Mingi. He doesn’t want to push you off but he doesn’t want to get hit either.

“Do you want me to get up or do you think he does?” Placing your arms around Yunho’s neck, you lace your fingers together, leaning your head back to address your boyfriend. “Baby, you want me to get up?” Mingi shakes his head, fully invested in the plate of food in front of him. “See? My boyfriend says ‘Yes’. What do you say?”

Yunho takes a deep breath, the room suddenly feeling ten times smaller than it previously was. “What do I say about what?”

Mingi takes another quick bite of his food, rising from his seat to stand beside you. You look up at him with the brightest smile. His little demon. “What do you say about her?” he says, kissing you so deeply you almost tip out of Yunho’s lap. When he breaks from the kiss he pets your hair as your lips drift closer to Yunho’s mouth.

“You want me, Yunie, yes or no?” you ask despite being able to feel the answer stiffening between your legs.

Yunho hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between Mingi and you. Mingi. You. Mingi. You. Mingi. You. Yunho grabs your face, kissing you hungrily, months of pent up tension pouring onto your lips. You must admit, you didn’t know he had this in him. There’s enough passion to get drunk off of and you’re ready to down every shot of it he’ll give you.

Not one to share you too much, Mingi grabs the back of your neck, pouring his everything into another kiss. He only has you to himself for a split second before Yunho’s pulling you back to him. You find yourself breathless, being bounced back and forth between two men so quickly that everything’s a blur. There’s a mouth on you at all times. Pressed to your own. Kissing your neck. Marking your collarbone.

Tilting you back towards the table, Yunho pushes your shirt up, capturing one of your breasts in his mouth. It fills the space between his cheeks, muffling his moans as he twirls his tongue around your bud. Still kissing you, Mingi reaches down to cup the other, enjoying the weight of it in his hand.

“Mmph, harder” you moan for both of them to hear.

They’re beyond happy to do as you ask. Yunho’s teeth and Mingi’s fingers closing around your nipples. You can’t touch your panties to say for sure but you know they must be wet. Completely soaked through. Ruined.

Reaching your hand out to hold onto Mingi’s leg, you mistakenly come in contact with his clothed cock. The first brush may be an accident but the second isn’t and neither is the third. Determined not to let Yunho feel left out, you squeeze your hand between your bodies, massaging his bulge through his pants. Neither man can hide the ecstasy of what you’re doing to them, rutting themselves against your palm and moaning like it’s the best thing they’ve felt in their lives.

What’s that word Mingi used to describe Yunho again? “Pathetic” was it? What would he call himself now? Is this not pathetic? Is this not pitiful? For you it’s none of the above and both in the same breath. They’re both pitiful in a needy, endearing sense. In a sense that you want them to be this way over you and only you. There was once a day where you couldn’t imagine anything better than one man who’s willing to worship you but now you know there’s something much better. Two.

Tucking a finger between the band of Mingi’s underwear and his bare skin, you tug at the elastic. “Gimmie” you command, your head back, tongue sticking out to the sky. You do the same to Yunho and your body rises as he rocks his hips, freeing himself from the confines of his pants.

Yunho’s heard you with Mingi before. The walls in this apartment aren’t the thickest and you’re far from one of the quieter girls Mingi’s been with. He’s gotten off to the sound a couple of times, picturing how you might look in all manner of ways, but he never imagined he’d actually be here to watch you open your mouth expectantly, taking Mingi’s cock to the back of your throat like gag reflexes don’t exist.

Mingi strokes your cheeks, admiring how puffy they get with him filling them up. “You’re doing so well, baby, fuck…” he beams and you wiggle your tongue on the underside of his shaft, relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him better. In your hand Yunho’s dripping with enough arousal for your hand to smoothly skate up and down his length, circling the rim with your thumb before massaging it back to the base.

You easily set a rhythm, perfectly balancing the two. Mingi in your mouth and Yunho in your hand. The arch of your tongue. The rotation of your wrist. With Mingi it’s simple, you know what he likes and you know how to do it, but with Yunho it’s different. You have to learn him as you go. Which spots make him quiver. Which angles make him twitch. Lucky for the both of you, you’re a quick learner and symphony of hushed moans whispers that you’re doing it just right.

Keeping an arm looped around your waist, Yunho gradually pushes your panties aside, giving you every opportunity to protest. When all you do is push your hips toward him he takes it as a sign, rolling his thumb through the warmth of your folds to find your clit. Your body jerks when he bumps up against it, a melodic hum of satisfaction vibrating around Mingi’s cock.

You lift your hips letting another of Yunho’s fingers slide along your entrance. When you come back down his finger slips in, your drenched hole sucking it right up. There’s an audible squelching as he swishes his finger around, your juices already leaking down into his palm. His fingertip finds that soft, spongy spot inside of you and curls into it, and you rock into him. Your body’s way of saying, “Yes. More. Please.” Yunho hears you loud and clear, pressing harder, delving deeper.

Hearing your moans turn to strained whines, Mingi grabs the back of your head, gliding himself out of your mouth until just the head of his cock rests at the edge of your tongue. His cock’s still pulsing, pink and glistening with your spit, as the tip traces your puffy lips leaving them shimmering with his precum. You wiggle your tongue, pushing your head forward to draw him back in but he doesn’t let you.

“Breathe for me” he says, teasing you with an inch, “I can’t have my baby girl choking, can I?”

Following his instructions you take a few deep breaths, feeling the cool rush of air through your lungs. You hadn’t even noticed the deprivation and the sudden introduction of hair leaves your head spinning.

“You okay?” Yunho asks, running a comforting hand across the small of your back.

“I’m okay” you smile as cutely as you ever have, offering Mingi the same confirmation. “I’m okay so give it back to me now.”

“You want it that badly?” he asks and you nod impatiently. “Then take it.”

Mingi thrusts into your mouth, stealing away your last breath of precious air. With how hard he’s fucking your throat you’d think it’s been weeks. You’d think he wasn’t just inside of you last night making you scream his name like it’s the only word you know.

Drool leaks down your chin, your hollowed out cheeks greedily accepting everything he gives you. Yunho sneaks another finger inside of you, scissoring you open, spreading you wide, his thumb still rubbing your clit at a merciless pace. At the start you were intentional, calculating your every move, but now your movements are mindless. You’re a slave to pleasure and everything else is secondary.

In the midst of it all an odd feeling overcomes you. A tugging at your heart that makes you think that you never want this to end. You could stay like this forever. Spend every single morning with them like this. It may not be holding hands in the park on a sunny day but there’s something romantic about this moment. Something tender in the perversion of it all. The reason behind it begins to surface. A word that you try to chase away as soon as it begins to spell itself out. L…Lo…Lov…

“Oh god…” Yunho gasps, his eyes widening in shock at the suddenness of his orgasm.

He hadn’t even felt it coming, he just knew he had at least a few more minutes in him, but here he is spilling all over your hand, covering your black nail polish in a sheet of white. He fingers you harder, bouncing you in his lap, wanting you to hit your high before he comes down from his.

The warmth of his cum splashing against your exposed pussy is enough to make you lose control and you give him just what he wants, your body going limp as your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You feel a vacancy in your throat and open your mouth to scream but it’s muffled by a sudden rush of liquid cascading across your tongue. Mingi keeps your head steady as he empties himself into you, making sure you don’t miss a drop, and you lap it up happily, kissing the tip as he pulls out.

There’s a whooshing in your ears and your limbs feel like jello. You’re a sticky little mess who can barely hold herself up and you love it. You love it so much. Planting a clumsy, dizzy kiss on your lips, Mingi stumbles back to his seat, almost missing his chair as he plops down. Yunho tucks himself back into his pants and you spin back around to face Mingi, elbows propped up on the table, chin resting in your palms.

“So…” you say, still gasping for air, “You boys still got room for breakfast?”

#ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #mingi x reader #song mingi x you #yunho x reader #yunho x you #mingi smut #yunho smut #poly ateez x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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foxtrology · 3 days ago

Text

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

#harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #materialists #materialists fanfic #harry castillo x you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller writing #joel miller x y/n #joel tlou #pedro pascal fandom #the materialists #the materialists fanfic

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muqingslover · 2 days ago

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[ Pushing my virgin Caleb agenda again yippieeeee. God he's such a loser I love him. Thinking about making a masterlist but im a full-time procrastinator lmfao ]

Virgin!Caleb who has zero sexual experience but is the textbook definition of sexual frustration. This man is about to snap in more ways than one.

Virgin!Caleb who during his teen years had to deal with his raging hormones and finally caved and searched for porn one night. He couldn't care less about the content itself only that the person MUST look like you, bonus point if their voice sounded similar to yours.

Virgin!Caleb who feels incredibly guilty each time he cums using your clothes but he can't stop himself from burying his nose into the soft fabric of your coat as his other hand quickly moves up and down his dripping cock— By the gods, you just smell so fucking heavenly.

Virgin!Caleb who wants to try everything at least once (as long as it doesn't hurt you) because he simply can't get enough of you and your body. Of all the LIs I think he's the most open to pegging but that's a topic for another day muehehehe

Virgin!Caleb who watches you sleep like a creep and notices your shirt riding up while you laid comfortably on your stomach. His eyes trail down to your exposed skin, body growing uncomfortably hot and causing him to shift the way he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He wonders...Would you squirm if he brushed his fingertips down your back? Would you tell him to stop? Or would you let him move lower? Would you let him slip his hands under the waistband of your shorts to feel your soft thighs and press against the thin fabric of your underwear, that would surely be wet by now— ....Yep, he definitely needs an extra cold shower tonight.

Virgin!Caleb who gets nosebleeds every freaking time you do or say something his dirty, loser mind considers as too much to handle. I will die on this hill if I have to listen to mE HE GETS NOSEBLEEDS AND IT'S SO HOT BELIEVE ME ! !

Virgin!Caleb who tries to keep his composure after he accidentally caught you grinding into a pillow and whining so good. He knows he should leave, that this is beyond immoral, but his body won't listen and honestly it's not like he really tried all that much.

Virgin!Caleb who is now leaning against the wall next to your door as he ignored his throbbing boner straining against his tight pants, trying to imagine that your pretty moans were because of him instead. How he wished he could just walk in there and taste you. To mark you as his so no one else would even dare to look at you. To keep you locked in his room, safe and healthy, while he spent his day buried into your soft little hole until either of you were unable to form a coherent thought.

Virgin!Caleb who had to cover his mouth to prevent your name from spilling out when his climax hit him and he made a mess in his own pants without even touching himself, sliding down the wall after his shaky knees gave out. Oh yeah, he's in biiiig trouble.

#hes so pathetic #i cant not fuck him #and i WILL #*evil cackling*#virgin caleb agenda #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds #lnds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb lads #caleb lnds

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katiascraft · 2 days ago

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﹙MV1﹚ ── ❝ am i enough? ❞

summary: max feels insecure about his body :( (so you comfort him)

warnings: none. it's just pure fluff.

author's note: first time writting 'bout max. short but i just felt i had to write this for some reason. hope it isn't stupid. love you all <3

blog masterlist

Max was taking a shower in the in-room bathroom of our ensuite bedroom in your Monaco house. It was quiet in the monegasque night. You were getting in your pajamas not thinking much about the world and trying to tidy up the room a bit because none of you had time to actually tidy all of it up the proper way. But this will make it for now.

You heard the shower turned off. Max seemed off all day. He was unusually quiet. You tried to comfort him as much as you could but something was going on in that head of his. But you didn’t want to pressure him nor invade his space when he feels like this. Even if you don’t know what's actually going on with him. You just knew he felt sad. The look in his eyes said it all to you but respected him and let him take his time until he wants to talk about it.

After a few minutes Max finally gets out of the bathroom. To your surprise he is fully dressed and with the hood of his hoodie over his head. You frown a bit when you see him. This is very unlike max, you thought. He usually walks around th house in just boxers with not a single care. So this was worrying.

He didn’t say a word. He just crawled into the bed and adjusted himself under the sheets. You looked at him a bit worried and even though you wanted to let him take his time, you needed to check in.

“Max, are you ok?” your voice was soft and low. You didn’t want to make him feel pressured with the questions. He stopped looking at his phone. Tiktoks could be heard playing on his screen. He blocked it and paid attention to you. “You've been off all day baby, do you want to talk about it? No pressure” you continued looking at him in the eyes trying to figure out what was going on with him but unable to anyway.

He licked his lips nervously “i’m not okay” his voice was below whisper and you thought you heard a crack. That made sirens in your head turn on. You crawled the bed and laid next to him.

“What’s wrong baby?” you said gently caressing his hair. Worry all over your eyes expecting his answer.

He took his time trying to find some comfort in your gentle gesture. He was a bit ashamed of his feelings even when it came to you.

“I just looked in the mirror this morning and i didnt like what ive seen to be honest” his voice was shaky between hurt and anxiety. He didn't want to be judged but even though he knew you wouldn't, his pattern because of childhood trauma was still there. Triggering him all the damn time. And sometimes, like today, it takes it stoll in him.

Your heart broke listening to him saying all of those words aloud. That’s because you got him so well.

“Baby, I got you. But you’re so beautiful my love. Don’t let those evil voices in your head win” you said, understanding him and trying to give him some comfort. He looked at you with puppy eyes. He was in the book of crying with his lips pouting.

“You really think I'm enough?” His voice is so tiny and shaky. This is so heartbreaking. You got closer to him so you could look each other in the eye and feel you close. You grabbed his face gently, caressing his cheek sweet.

“Maxie, my love, you’re more than enough. You’re so fucking beautiful max emilian, everytime i look at you the only thing i can see is beauty” you tried to reassured him. He couldn’t look at your eyes anymore or else he would start crying.

“But I don't have a pretty face nor a good body. I'm not like danny or lewis or even charles.they look good, i don't. I look squishy… i don't like it at all” his voice now expressed a bit of anger. You assumed it was rustration. You shook your head looking at him and trying to find his eyes again.

“Baby, don’t compare yourself. You’re beautiful in your own way. You have a pretty face, you have a good hell of a body. Max, you’re so hot i can’t even control myself most times” you tried to make him laugh but he smiled at best. Your heart ached for him. “I know it's hard , okay? I know you’re exposed to the world to see and to have an opinion on you. And that must be really hard for you to deal with. I know. And people are mean and will comment so much nonsense just to hurt you. That’s all they want. Don't let them win, baby. They say ugly things about you for a reason, right? Because you’re too hot, too good and a fucking world champion. They can’t cope with that much in one single person.” finally you made him giggle a little. You smiled sweetly at him.

He hugged you, hiding his face on your neck. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, caressing his back gently.

“So am i enough?” he asked in a whisper. Your hand on his hair makes him feel safe.

“More than enough, maxie. You’re gorgeous and I can not be more obsessed with you. "You kissed his head softly. And you didn’t see him but he has a smile on his face now.

“I love you, y/n” he said, pressing a soft kiss on our neck. That sent shivers down your spine and smiled sweetly.

“Love you my super hot and fast formula one racing driver, no one can compete with you” you said cheeky and made him giggle. When he got apart you say he cried but hid. It broke your heart a little but you understood. Gently you whipped his tears with your thumb.

“And i love my super duper beautiful, caring, loving and perfect girlfriend” he said now making you giggle. You loved that man to death.

And he loved you until forever falls apart.

˖ ֹ੭୧ the end ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

don't forget to like, reblog and comment i you liked it! and follow me so we can be friends <3 (and drink mate together)

#𐔌 . ⋮ katiascraft .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x you #mv1 x y/n #mv33 x reader #mv33 x you

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yoongelectric · 2 days ago

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Signs - Lando Norris

— do your damn best to figure it out

pairing: lando norris x reader, established relationship

genre: angst, smut

warnings: p in v, oral (both receiving), fingering, miscommunication, insecurities, body image issues, praise kink, breeding kink, soft dom!lando, sub!reader

notes: I don't think I need to clarify this, but just in case, this is the reader's pov, what y/n describes is not necessarily what Lando feels or thinks!!!

Your relationship with Lando was new, you had started dating 3 months ago but you had made it official last month, everything was perfect, well, almost everything, Lando was an attentive, affectionate boyfriend, always remembering everything about you, doing the impossible to make you happy, surprising you with thoughtful gifts and making your life easier in every way. The conversations between you flowed easily, you could spend hours talking about any topic and laughing non-stop, you got along well with his friends and he with yours, everyone said you were made for each other and you thought so too.

The only problem between you was sex, Lando wasn't bad, quite the opposite, he always put your pleasure above his, making sure you came before him and he was very attentive during aftercare. The problem was that no matter what you did you didn't seem to be able to turn him on, to make him lose control, you weren't even sure you were capable of satisfying him. You had tried everything, grinding on him as you were about to fall asleep, walking around the house in your underwear, leaning over in a not-so-subtle way, even trying to make him feel jealous with his friends, nothing seemed to make him snap, to make him fuck you like he meant it. When you had sex, he wouldn’t talk to you, or compliment you, or moan, or even grunt or take labored breaths. And don’t even think about asking you to touch him, or kiss him, or suck him off.

At the beginning of your relationship you didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking he was just shy and you needed to get to know each other better, but now you were starting to overthink things, did he really like having sex with you? Or was he just doing it because it was part of the relationship? Did he even really find you attractive? Or would he prefer a girl with a better body? With bigger tits, or a better ass? Sure, his dick got hard when you two had sex and Iando fucked you almost every day, but there was nothing to indicate that he was exactly crazy about you.

you really tried not to think about it, to convince yourself that they were just ideas in your head, but you saw how it affected your relationship more and more, pushing you away from him without realizing it, losing trust in your bond, every time lando touched you the only thing that went through your head was if he really wanted you.

and here you were, he was sitting next to you, the movie on the tv long forgotten while your boyfriend kissed your neck, caressing your waist trying to get you closer to him, and an idea came to your head, would he try harder if you make him beg for it?

"lando, i'm not in the mood right now" you said gently pushing him by his chest

You felt his hand leave your waist, the kisses on your neck stopping

"It's okay, love, let's watch the movie" your boyfriend smiled at you carefree, unaware of the storm of thoughts in your mind.

you huffed annoyed, of course, he really didn't care, you crossed your arms over your chest, unconsciously leaning towards the other side of the couch

"something's wrong, y/n?" your boyfriend looked at you with concern, his brow furrowed in confusion, you simply shook your head

"are you mad at me?" lando paused the movie turning to you

"i'm not mad, lando"

"you sure?" he placed his hand on your thigh but you were quick to move your leg

"i'm fine" you said without even looking at him, lando nodded, putting the movie back on.

that was enough, he couldn't even tell that you weren't okay, nothing was okay. you stood up frustrated rushing to your room and sitting on your bed, what else could you do? nothing seemed to work and you were getting tired of thinking something could change

in a matter of seconds lando entered the room hesitantly, kneeling in front of you trying to grab your hand

"why don't you like fucking me, lando?" the words were out of your mouth before you could think

"what do you mean? i love fucking you, love" your boyfriend sat down next to you, not really knowing what to do

"don't lie, i can tell" you said looking at him for the first time since you started talking

"i don't know what you're talking about, you were the one who told me you weren't in the mood 2 minutes ago"

what was so hard for him to understand?

"Yeah, but you didn't insist, it's the same for you to do it or not"

Your boyfriend's confused face was more evident every second, he had no idea where all this was coming from

"Baby, why would I insist? What's going on?"

"What's going on? I feel like you don't want me Lando, you don't say anything when we have sex, I don’t know if I look hot, if it feels good, I don't know absolutely anything about what's going on in your head, if you like it or not, what do you you want from me? you're always so calm, it seems like you're forced to do it, as if it were part of a job, you're never rough with me, you don't seem to need me like I need you, god, Lando, we've been together for 3 months and you've never even asked me to suck your cock" Your words were faster than your thoughts, and when you finished speaking you had to take a deep breath.

"Do you really think that's how things are?" You nodded, avoiding his gaze. "y/n, you should’ve told me that sooner. I never thought you'd want me to do those things."

"It doesn't really matter. It's just silly anyway."

You don't know exactly what you said that changed Lando's attitude completely. His eyes darkened and his body tensed. You don't know how, but you ended up with your back on the mattress and Lando kneeling between your legs.

"Do you think it's silly?" He said, caressing your thighs, making your pajama shorts ride up. "That I'm such a shitty boyfriend that I can't make my girlfriend feel enough?"

Lando leaned over you, placing kisses on your belly.

"I have the hottest girlfriend in the world, and I'm making her have second thoughts." Your boyfriend moved up to kiss your inner thighs. "I can't accept this, y/n."

You were speechless. You'd never seen him like this before. His gaze was piercing on you, his eyes, once a bluish-green, were almost black from his dilated pupils. His voice was hoarse with a mixture of lust and anger. You didn't trust what could come out of your mouth if you spoke now.

Lando pulled away from you momentarily, standing beside you as he unbuttoned and removed his pants and shirt. He was left in only his boxers. You could see the outline of his already hard member, pressing against the fabric of his underwear. He took your hand, making you sit up and positioning it on his cock.

"See what you do to me? Do you really think you don't turn me on? That I don't want your lips on me? I think about that all the time, how good it would feel, how pretty you would look with your mouth full of my cock, always thought you wanted me doing all the work, but since you want it so bad…”

He released his member from its confinement, giving it a few pumps before placing it on your lips.

"Open your mouth."

And you did as he said, wrapping your lips around the tip, circling the sensitive area with your tongue.

Lando held your hair in a ponytail, forcing you to look into his eyes, his jaw was tense, his brow slightly furrowed, and you could feel his member pulsing in the wetness of your mouth.

"So beautiful as always, so good for me, can you take more?"

You nodded, taking him further in your mouth until the tip pressed against the back of your throat, your hand holding what you couldn't fit in.

The moan Iando let out when you swallowed, making the walls of your throat contract around his cock, filled your chest with satisfaction. His head fell back, his grip on your hair tightening. You pumped your head, testing the waters, while simultaneously moving your hand in the opposite direction. Noticing the pleasure he was feeling in his body language, you couldn't help but moan, finally having what you'd wanted for so long. The vibrations unconsciously made him push his member further into your mouth, seeking more of what you were giving him.

You rested your hands on his thighs, letting him fuck your mouth to his heart's content.

"Is this what you wanted, y/n? To see me completely at your mercy? I've always been. I could do this all fucking day."

Lando guided you on his cock, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You felt the muscles in his legs tense beneath your hands. His eyes squeezed shut. You knew he was about to cum. You wanted nothing more than to have his seed on your tongue, to know that you were the one who could make him feel this way. But just as he was about to finish, he pulled out of your mouth, tapping his cock against your lips a few times, moving it from side to side like a lipstick.

"God, you're going to be the death of me. You look so beautiful."

"Lando, please, cum in my mouth. I wanna taste you." You were surprised by how husky and needy your voice came out, but you didn't care. You just wanted to make him feel good.

Your boyfriend shook his head. "I'd love to, maybe another day, but today I want to cum inside your pussy. I want you to know you're mine, all mine."

"Take off your clothes." You timidly removed your shorts and oversized t-shirt, leaving you in only your lace panties in front of him. A little self-conscious, as you lay down on the bed, you bent your legs and placed your hands over your stomach and breasts, trying to cover yourself a little. It wasn't the first time you were naked in front of Iando, obviously, but it was the first time you'd seen him like this, his gaze fixed on your body, scanning you without missing a single inch. He carefully placed your arms at your sides. "Don't cover yourself, I’ve already seen all of you, princess." He opened your legs, kneeling between them, and leaned in to kiss you deliberately, slowly but firmly, taking the time to taste each other's lips. "y/n, fuck, I want to eat you whole" he said going down to place wet kisses on your neck, your jaw, your earlobe, chills ran down your spine as you tightened your legs around his hips and held on tightly to his shoulders, your nails leaving marks on his tanned skin

His kisses moved down to your breasts. Lando licked one of your nipples while massaging your other boob with his hand. Your back arched at the contact, silently begging for more. You could feel his impossibly harder member prodding your inner thigh, making your pussy clench.

"Lando," you tried to get his attention, unsure of what you were about to say.

"Mhmm?" He looked up at you, nodding slightly for you to continue as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently.

"Please, do something, touch me" Lando laughed softly as he moved to your other breast, placing kisses over it before repeating his previous actions.

You could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of your panties, the need in your core almost painful.

"Iando, please," you begged, pulling at his hair to make him look at you once more.

"Are you in a hurry?" He mocked, but complied with your wishes, gently biting your hipbone before removing your panties in one swift motion, running his fingers over your heat, hissing as he realized how wet you were. He leaned down, leaving a long lick over your core, holding your thighs open tightly so he could pleasure you however he wanted, your hand instinctively in his hair, keeping him from moving away.

"So good, I could eat this pussy all day." He sucked your clit with his lips while drawing circles around your hole with his fingers, teasing you.

Moan after moan left your mouth. He was making you feel so good. You hated how he could take you apart and put you back together in a second, ruining you for anyone else.

His tongue working wonders on your pussy, a mixture of your juices and his drool dripping down your skin, which Iando was quick to lick back, not wasting a single drop of what you were giving him.

"Baby, I want more, please."

Your boyfriend was quick to carefully insert two fingers inside you, hooking them upwards and pumping them slowly. The stimulation made you almost scream in pleasure, your legs trying to close over his head.m, Lando pressed your hips into the mattress to keep you still. "Love, please, I'm so close." He knew it perfectly well. Your pussy contracted again and again around his fingers, he could feel the muscles in your thighs tense under his touch. He forced himself against his own wishes and pulled away from you before you could reach your high.

Before you could protest, he put your legs over one of his shoulders, sliding his cock inside you without warning. Both of you moaning at the same time at the feeling of finally being connected, when he was completely inside you, he kept still until you got used to him.

"Do you feel that? Do you feel how full of me you are? How hard you make me?" Lando growled when his words made you clench around his member.

"Fuck me, please, Lando." You pushed your hips against his, trying to feel more of him. Your boyfriend pulled out almost completely, leaving only the tip inside, then slammed his hips down on you hard. "God, love, just like that." Your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the sheets, trying to hold onto something.

"So beautiful, like you were made for me." The rhythm Iando kept was reckless, pounding into you mercilessly, hitting all the right spots. "I love you so much, I love fucking you. Sometimes it's all I can think about. How beautiful you look when I fuck you stupid on my dick." He licked his thumb, pressing it over your clit, drawing random shapes until he almost brought you to the limit. "Cum on my cock, Y/N. Show me how beautiful you look when you come undone in my arms."

His words were driving you crazy. There wasn't a single coherent thought in your head; you just moaned his name over and over again, begging, not knowing exactly for what. Suddenly a wave of euphoria invaded you, as you reached your climax, white dots invading your vision, you felt like you were in heaven, seconds that seemed like hours as a sense of bliss overtook you

The look of pleasure on your face was enough for Iando to reach his high as well, painting your walls with his white seed, you hissed at the overstimulation as your boyfriend began to lazily fuck his cum inside you before pulling out and lying down beside you.

"Are you okay?" he said, gently caressing your cheek.

You nodded tiredly; you felt like all the energy had been sucked out of your body.

"I'm sorry for making you feel insecure. I guess I never realized what your needs really were." You could see the guilt creeping into his eyes.

You smiled, snuggling into his side. "It's okay. I should have told you sooner, and certain insecurities of mine didn't help either."

"Well, it's my job as your boyfriend to help you forget all that. I don't want you to ever think for a second that I don't want you."

You placed a chaste kiss on his lips, resting your head on his chest.

"I'll do my best."

divider: @fairytopea

#ln4 imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris scenarios #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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tiramissyoucake · 23 hours ago

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MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. More marriage with Viltrum Mark ty for liking the last one, I wrote this wit a headache

CW: not proof-read, forced marriage, fem reader, dub-con, straight piv, partially clothed, I don't know shit about the garter tradition, some dirty talk idk, Mark is way too horny about getting married

It was odd. The wedding had so many 'earth' traditions carried out. Mark slipping a ring on your finger and watching you do the same, bringing a Viltrumite of a high position to declare you married, kissing you tenderly like he didn't take away everything from you for his selfish desire, he did it under the impression that it'd please you, all it did was make you miss home.

You dreaded the bedroom the most as he carried you back, the silver white of his clothes duller than the pure white that hugged your body; the one he requested. There was no use clawing or fighting him like you did during the first few weeks on this planet, he was stronger and as much as you hated to admit he was right; there's nowhere to go on Viltrum or the galaxy.

You were snapped out of the despaired haze as Mark impatiently dropped you on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, sitting on his knees with all his decorum gone, he panted. "I've been waiting for this." lifting your legs as the garter came into view, the dress spilling and compiling at your waist.

"Earther men have some sort of custom related to this," he started, looking between you and that flimsy piece of fabric that clamped around the meat of your thigh, gaze sharp and hungry. "The groom removes this from his bride, right?"

You noted how he paused, as if waiting for you to answer, you glanced away uncomfortably. "... It's mainly a... 'western' tradition."

"But an Earther one, right?" He seemed too eager to listen to objections, lips running over your thigh, a trembled sigh coating your skin as if he couldn't believe this was happening, you resisted the urge to squirm. "Let me have you." He mumbled.

His teeth clamped onto the cloth, ensuring he had a firm grip as he tugged it down, painfully slowly. Sharp eyes looking up at you to drink up your emotions; embarrassment? Love? Fear? Mark convinced himself it was all the same with you.

After removing it, he spat the garment aside, so abruptly it made you jump, "Lay back." He demanded quietly as he climbed into the lavish bed, mattress sinking under his weight.

His hands quickly trailed over your body, lips hurriedly coming down to meet yours in a yearning kiss, feeling you, drinking you in. "My bride... my beautiful bride.." he mumbled to himself between kisses, parting his lips to deepen the kiss further as he practically moaned into your mouth.

Your hands came up under the assumption that he'd try to remove the dress before he swatted one hand away impatiently. "No. Keep it on." He almost growled as he tugged your thighs closer, his hard length pressing against you beneath the fabric. "I want to fuck you in this dress."

There was something about touching you and kissing you as you were dolled up for him that drove him insane. Was it the outfit? The clothes? The fact that it's your wedding night? He didn't care.

He undid his robes, Viltrum clothes coming undone as he tugged his waistband down enough, grunting as his cock sprang free, throbbing and ready to finally consummate. "Look what you do to me.." his hand tugged up your wedding dress impatiently, your face reddened at the harsh gesture, grasping his wrist. "Mark..!"

"Oh, relax... I'm your husband now." Mark's hands clutched the waistband of your panties, tugging them off normally would require him to move, so his fists clenched around the fabric as he easily shredded it to pieces, eliciting a shocked noise from you. "What're you doing..?! You could've moved!"

"Not even a thousand men could move me right now." He shot back, eyeing you with such a hungry look it made you embarrassed to be seen by him, his gaze remained on you as he threw aside the flimsy fabric.

"My formalwear and your dress stay." He panted, shuffling closer and caging you between his arms. "This is our first night together... as husband and wife." His lips stretched to a smile, it sounded like he was narrating this to himself out of pure ecstasy.

"S-slow, please— slow—" your lips parted in shock feeling the head of his cock slowly rub and push against you, his eyes squinting but never closing as he committed every detail of your face's changes to memory, inch by delicious inch.

"My cute wife..." he practically moaned, hips pressing against you harshly as he bottomed out. "Mmmmh.. I love you.. say it back to me.."

You couldn't speak, not when his hips immediately picked up a rhythm, his dick forcing a moan out of you with every thrust, nestling deeper and deeper with every 'plap!' That resounded. "Say it back— mmh, fuck.. say you love me.."

Sweat coated your body quickly, the dress making you even more heated as it was trapped underneath. "L-love... you..!" You barely strung the words together, your moans and noises resounding faster than you could speak.

Plap! Plap! Plap! The sweat pooling under your dress, The throb of his cock, his moaning flooding your senses, his height and size consuming you as he leaned over you, you could barely focus on anything as your jaw hung slack moaning aimlessly.

"Yeah? You love me?" He sounded like a kid in a candy shop, he always got like this when you showed a smidge of affection. "Of course— mmh, of course you would.. I'm your husband after all... hah..."

His hands pushed your palms open, jamming his fingers between yours as his hips pistoned into you, pussy struggling to accommodate his crushing speed, overwhelming you mentally and physically. "I'll make sure you're full of my cum, it's what my cute wife deserves, isn't it?" He punctuated his point with a harsh buck of his hips.

"You'll be the happiest woman in the entire fucking galaxy, fuck..!" Mark hissed, the discomfort of sweat piling onto his skin was nothing compared to the pleasure of your cunt sucking him in. "I love you, I love you... fuck, I love you...!"

He took advantage of your open mouth to kiss you sloppily, his tongue filling your mouth easily as he swallowed your moans. It was disgusting and debauched, just how he liked you.

"Hah, 'm gonna cum.." he groaned between kisses, moving his hips faster— curse his Viltrumite stamina. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel you tightening." He grinned at your cock-dumb expression, trying to ground yourself in reality through the pounding in your womb, the shameful sloppy slapping echoing from your hips taunting you.

"Cum for me, cum on your husband's cock." He demanded over your moans, holding his own against you, though it wasn't long before you were sent over the edge, stilling and shaking as your orgasm practically shook you at your core, your tightening cunt catching him off-guard.

"D-don't do that you— Nnh..!!" Mark gritted his teeth as his cock finally, finally, filled you. he desperately slammed his hips down one final time to ensure no drop would escape you unless it was because he filled you too much, his loud groaning shadowing your moans as he tightened his hold over your hands, hot load spilling and spilling.

The full feeling in your cunt, your husband panting over you as he slumped into your breasts, hugging you closely like an emotional support plushie, it would have been sweet had he not still been nestled inside you. "G-Give me... 5 minutes... and we'll go again.."

You gasped as you sat up a bit to look down at him, alarmed. "A-again..?!"

He looked at you with such a tired but smug expression, hair tousled more so than usual now as he laughed. "I'm not like those puny earthling men, it's our wedding night, I plan to make the most of it..."

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader

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prythianpages · 3 days ago

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Price of Fate | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader | Azriel confronts your father after your sudden disappearance.

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, reader is not really in this (just mentioned), reader is a priestess (but former citizen of the court of nightmares), there will be no part two i'm sorry

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble inspired by Will Turner from Pirates of the Caribbean but it turned out to be around 1K words. Anyway, I just felt like writing something quick & dramatic.

Azriel never cared much for wealth or materialistic things. He never envied the Night Court nobles draped in silk and silver, the lords who played their political games from the safety of their estates while soldiers and citizens bled for their power.

Wealth and status had their uses. Azriel wouldn’t deny that, not after growing up with nothing. But at the end of the day, none of it truly mattered.

What mattered were the people he loved. His mother. His brothers. His friends. His family.

His mate.

You mattered.

And now you were gone.

Taken.

Before he could even tell you who he is to you.

Azriel had walked through his fair share of mansions like this, where the air reeked of old money and arrogance. His shadows hissed as they slithered ahead of him, taking in the paintings that lined the hallway. Painting of ancestors who had never lifted a blade, never spilled blood for the power they hoarded.

The lord of the estate barely looked up as Azriel entered, or rather, barged in. Keir’s right hand man, your father, remained lounging in his high-backed chair. He swirled a glass of deep red wine but as he looked up to meet the shadowsinger’s eyes, his expression morphed into a scowl.

“Have you no manners, boy?” He sneered, spitting out the last word with scorn.

Azriel’s shadows hissed again, growing more restless by the second. They reached your father before he could, wrapping around his wrists and pinning him to his chair. He jerked against the restraints, but the shadows did not yield. They only tightened, biting into his skin like shackles of living night.

“You sold her off but she wasn't yours to sell.” Azriel said. "Or anyone's. You had no right."

His voice was unnervingly calm but paired with the icy rage simmering in his eyes, something shifted in your father’s expression. His struggling ceased and the anger in his eyes dimmed. Then, he laughed, low and dry, until a shadow slithered around his throat, cutting it short with a warning squeeze.

“Of course I did,” your father managed to choke out. “She is my daughter.”

Azriel’s shadows whispered madly, seething at the possessiveness of your father’s words. They were begging to be let free and do as they pleased. And Azriel would’ve let them feed into their hunger for revenge, if he didn’t need your father for more information.

Your father coughed as the shadow around his throat reluctantly loosened, just enough for him to speak.

“Where is she?”

Your father’s lips curled in disgust at Azriel’s demanding tone.

“I do not know the customs of your barbaric people nor do I care. But let me remind you that this is the Court of Nightmares, not Illyria. Y/n is a daughter of this house, whether she likes it or not. And this is how things are done here, whether you like it or not.”

A slow, boiling rage curled in Azriel’s gut. His siphons flared, casting violent blue shadows across the room. You had run from this life, had given everything up. And just when you had thought you were safe, your father came for you.

“Did you really think she would remain in that library forever? Hiding among dusty books, playing the part of a priestess?” Your father paused to let out a scoff.

Azriel’s fingers twitched toward the dagger at his belt.

“No daughter of mine will waste away in that temple of cowards. She was meant to serve her purpose. A purpose you need not worry yourself over…”

Azriel’s shadows churned, overtaken by their anger. The same anger that surged through his blood. And Azriel didn’t need them to recognize the moment realization struck. The exact second your father pieced it together. His gaze met Azriel’s, the glint of cruel satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

“What difference does it make if she is married to some noble lord or sold to a dreadborn mercenary? Either way, she fulfills her duty to me.”

Azriel moved before he could think. One second, your father was smirking in his chair and the next, he was slammed against the stone wall, Azriel’s hand at his throat. His shadows now swarmed behind him like a storm ready to unfold. It all happened so fast that the wine glass that your father had still been clinging to shattered to the floor a heartbeat later, dark red liquid bleeding across the marble.

“If only I had known that she meant something to you, I would’ve let you have her. For a pretty coin, of course.”

Azriel growled, a sharp pain blooming in Azriel’s jaw from how hard he clenched his teeth. He would kill the male before him. He would rip him apart, consequences be damned and let his shadows carry his pieces to the void.

He pressed his dagger against your father’s throat. His heartbeat pounded like war drums in his ears, each beat fueling the storm of thoughts racing through his mind. Thoughts of you. Who had your father handed you over to like some piece of property? And how far had they taken you from him?

He didn’t have time to waste.

“You are going to tell me where they took her,” Azriel said, his voice dangerously cool. “Or I will make sure you never speak another word again.”

Your father chuckled, even as the blade bit into his flesh. “You think I fear you?” He scoffed. “You are nothing but a trained beast at Rhysand’s command. I am noble blood. You wouldn’t dare—”

Azriel twisted his wrist. Just enough to pierce skin, just enough to silence him as a bead of blood welled at the tip. “You’re right,” he said. “I serve my High Lord. I follow his rules.”

But then Azriel leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “But I don’t follow them when it comes to her.”

Your father stilled. His arrogance fractured just enough for Azriel to see the flicker of fear in his eyes. “Derrick was his name,” he finally rasped. “Said he worked for Koschei. But it doesn’t matter. The bargain was made. The deal has been sealed.”

Azriel released him, letting the male crumple to the floor, gasping for breath. His shadows curled around his boots, eager and waiting for an order.

“Pray,” Azriel said coldly, “that she is still breathing when I find her.”

Your father let out a ragged laugh, one last attempt at defiance. “Just how far are you willing to go to save her?”

Azriel didn’t hesitate.

“I’d give my life for her.”

His words were forged in steel, unyielding and absolute. A vow so powerful that it wrapped itself around his ribs and settled into the marrow of his bones.

And then, without another word, he vanished into the night.

a/n: Please don't hate me y'all. I have no plans to continue this. (Of course things can change but I really want to focus on my current WIPs before I start anything else. I just got the sudden inspo and given my writer's block, I wanted to write something before it went away. But I am happy to entertain any questions/asks over this little scenario I created.)

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #i just had to finish this tonight even though it is 3AM out of spite from my last post lol #i was thankfully able to safely charge my laptop

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cameronsbabydoll · 1 day ago

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thinking abt blue collar rafe with reader who knows he’s been exhausted recently so she dresses up really nice (think rory in that one gilmore girls episode for dean) and she makes the best and biggest dinner she’s ever made and takes care of him afterwards if… ykwim…

Blue-collar!Rafe would just about melt when he walks through the door and sees you all dressed up, waiting for him with a full spread of his favorite meal. His exhaustion would hit him even harder then—not just physically, but emotionally, because you see him. You know he’s been pushing himself too hard, and instead of nagging him to rest, you do something about it.

He’d be standing in the doorway, dirty from work, his chest rising and falling as he just takes you in.

"What’s all this, huh?" His voice is gruff, but there’s something softer underneath, something dangerously close to awe.

And when you smile at him, walking over to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, he’d just exhale, finally letting himself relax for the first time in days. You’d usher him to the table, making sure he’s comfortable, piling his plate high even when he grumbles about you “treatin’ him like a damn baby.” But he’d be eating it up—literally and figuratively—especially when you sit beside him, refilling his drink, resting your hand on his thigh.

And after dinner? Oh, you’d barely get the dishes in the sink before he’s got his hands on you, murmuring something about how you shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble—but you can feel how much he loves it. How much he loves you. And he’d make sure you felt just as spoiled as he did, whether that meant drawing things out slow and sweet, or working out every ounce of tension he had left in the best way possible.

Either way, by the end of the night, he’d be holding you close, mumbling, "Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin’… but I ain’t ever lettin’ you go."

#cameronsbabydoll ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#anons ♡⸝⸝#blue collar rafe cameron au ⋆˚࿔#blue collar rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfic #outerbanks rafe cameron #outerbanks x you #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

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isaadore · 21 hours ago

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SAY YOU'LL BE BETTER LUKE HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎pairing luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY luke does something stupid, bad enough to leave you questioning everything. he never meant to hurt you, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. word count 0.6k

warnings angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, miscommunication, mentions of drinking, swearing

note requested <3 and i know the photos and theme don’t match the story AT ALL but i couldn’t find anything else okay 😣

LH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

THE PARTY WAS too loud.

Music rattled the walls, the bass thudding in your chest like a second heartbeat. Bodies were packed into the house, voices overlapping, the scent of spilled drinks and expensive cologne hanging heavy in the air.

And Luke?

Luke was in the middle of it all, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Like he hadn’t completely forgotten about you.

You weren’t even sure why you came. You waited for him for over an hour before giving up, and the dinner you planned together was now sitting cold in your apartment. He promised. Swore up and down that he would be there. But then Jack texted you about the party, and suddenly it all made sense.

You didn’t even want to be mad, but it was hard not to be when you watched him toss an arm over a random guy’s shoulder, grinning like nothing else existed outside that house. Like you didn’t exist.

Maybe it was dramatic. Maybe it was stupid. But you were always the one waiting on Luke, weren’t you? Always the one adjusting, bending, letting him take up all the space while you shrank yourself down.

And maybe you were finally tired of it.

You turned to leave, shoving past the crowd, but you didn’t get far before a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Hey, wait.” His voice was slightly slurred, but the panic in his tone was obvious. “Where are you going?”

You pulled yourself free. “Home.”

Luke blinked. “What? But you just got here.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t supposed to be here, Luke. I was supposed to be with you.”

His face fell, confusion turning to realization, then regret. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Your arms crossed over your chest. “Shit.”

“I—fuck, I lost track of time. I—”

You shook your head, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter, and he knew it. You saw it in the way his brows knit together, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

It would have almost been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away. “Have fun, Luke.”

You didn’t wait for a response.

You didn’t expect him to show up.

You were curled up on your couch, staring blankly at the untouched plates on the table, when there was a knock at your door. You ignored it at first, but then his voice came through.

“Please.”

You hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, you opened the door.

Luke stood there, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, not from drinking, but from guilt. He looked exhausted. Lost.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “For what?”

“For everything. For not showing up, for making you feel like…” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “Like you don’t matter.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

“I just…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t want to be that guy. The one who takes you for granted. Because I don’t. I swear, I don’t.”

Your eyes burned. “Then why does it feel like you do?”

Luke’s breath caught. He looked like you had just knocked the air out of his lungs.

You sighed, your voice quieter now. “You say I matter, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting for you.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to defend himself. He just nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

And then, cautiously, he stepped forward. “I love you,” he said, like the words might break in his mouth. “And I swear to you, I’ll be better. I just need you to let me prove it.”

You should have said no. Should have told him it was too late. But when you looked at him, at the desperation in his eyes, the raw, open way he was looking at you, you didn’t want to.

Because you loved him too.

You stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

Luke exhaled, relief washing over his face as he stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you like he never wanted to let go.

And for now, you let him.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl #hockey #✷ isaadore

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theonottsbxtch · 1 day ago

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GHOST OF HER | LN4

an: i can't remember which song inspired me to write this, but i had it on loop and cried and wrote this so please enjoy this angst

wc: 3.4k

synopis: lando and his girlfriend had been broken up for 6 months, he tried to make it work with the new girl, he really did. but lando never moved on - he just coped and when his new girl was getting jealous,t here was only so much he could take.

IT HAD BEEN SEVEN MONTHS SINCE SHE'D LEFT.

Seven months since she packed her bags, closed the door behind her, and never looked back. Seven months since he sat on the floor of their flat, staring at the dent in the carpet where her suitcase had been, replaying every second of the moment she walked away. He had thought she was the one. The love of his life. The mother of his future children. The woman he’d grow old with.

And then, one evening, with no warning he could stomach, she was gone.

For the first few months, he didn’t feel real. He moved through Monaco’s streets like a ghost, haunting the bars, slipping between soft bodies and red-painted lips, drowning in perfume that wasn’t hers. One night after another, a different name, a different bed, hands on his skin that felt like nothing at all. It should have helped. It didn’t.

Eventually, he settled. A girl, warm and bright and willing, started staying the night. Then a few nights. Then most nights. Until, at some point, it just became them. She loved him. He just about liked her.

She knew, of course. Not at first, not completely, but she must have suspected. The way his fingers lingered on the pages of books that weren’t his. The way he pulled away in the mornings, something unreadable in his expression when he stared at the chair in the corner of the room where a silk scarf—one that wasn’t hers—was draped over the backrest.

The first time she saw the bracelet, she said nothing. Just glanced at it in the dish on his nightstand and looked away.

The second time, she reached for it. Let it pool in her palm. Ran her thumb over the clasp like she wanted to break it.

“This is hers, isn’t it?”

He didn’t need to ask who she meant.

He barely looked up from his phone. “I’ll get rid of it.”

A lie.

She scoffed, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t snap at him, didn’t throw it at the wall like maybe she wanted to. Instead, she set it back down with too much care, like even she didn’t want to be the one to shatter it.

It wasn’t just the bracelet. It was the scarf still draped over the chair in the corner, silk pooling like a ghost had just slipped it from their shoulders. It was the row of books on the shelf, the ones with dog-eared pages and underlined passages, ones she had once traced her fingers over while leaning into his side, ones that weren’t his. It was the perfume in the bathroom, untouched but never fading, its scent still thick in the air long after she had gone.

It was the way he looked at all of it, not like objects, not even like memories, but like a wound he refused to let heal.

She should have left by now.

Instead, she stood by the bed, arms folded, breathing too carefully. “Do you even want to move on?”

Her voice was quieter this time. Uncertain. Tired.

Lando should have lied.

Should have reached for her hand, should have told her he did, of course he did, of course she was enough. It would have been easier. Kinder.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, staring at the bracelet, and said nothing at all.

She waited.

For a moment, maybe two, she stood there, arms still folded, waiting for something—an answer, a denial, a lie she could cling to. But Lando had nothing to give her. He just sat there, his gaze fixed on the bracelet, his silence stretching between them like an open wound.

Eventually, she exhaled, shaking her head, muttering something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch. Then she climbed into bed beside him, turning onto her side, away from him, pulling the covers up to her shoulder.

She wasn’t leaving. Not yet.

She never did, even though he half-expected her to.

She was the kind of girl who wanted to be enough, who believed if she just stayed, just held on a little longer, maybe one day he’d look at her like he once looked at the ghost she was trying to replace.

But she wasn’t her.

And he would never look at her like that.

She was gone by morning.

Not for good—just to work, or wherever she went when she wasn’t here. She left a mug in the sink, a damp towel on the bathroom floor, her perfume lingering in the air. A presence. A reminder that she was real, that she existed, that she loved him.

He should have cared more than he did.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bracelet, the indent of her head still on the pillow beside him.

He should have thrown it away by now.

That was what normal people did, wasn’t it? Moved on. Let go. Cleared the space in their lives for something new, something better, something real.

He reached for it. Just held it for a moment, turning it over between his fingers.

The clasp was a little loose. It always had been. He remembered fastening it for her once, standing behind her in the mirror, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder as he did. She had smiled at him then, one of those soft, effortless smiles that made him believe in things like forever.

Forever.

What a fucking joke.

He dropped the bracelet back into the dish, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Maybe tonight he’d tell her to stop asking. Maybe tonight he’d finally lie, say he loved her, say he was ready to move on.

Maybe tonight he’d even believe it.

But not this morning. Not yet.

He got up, stepped over the towel she left on the floor, and went to take a shower.

By the time she had returned that evening, Lando had poured himself a drink.

It wasn’t a bad habit. Not really. Not yet. One glass, maybe two, something smooth and expensive, the kind of drink that suited a man who was supposed to have his life together. But that was the thing about grief, wasn’t it? It didn’t care how much money you had, how many women warmed your bed, how many times you told yourself you were fine. It still sat in your chest like rot, eating you from the inside out.

The flat was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whisky and something else—something heavier. The weight of the past, maybe. He leaned against the counter, fingers curled around the glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly, staring at nothing in particular.

She dropped her bag by the door, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she stepped towards him.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

His fingers tightened around the glass. “Forgot what?”

She gave him a look. “We’re supposed to be going out tonight. Drinks with the other drivers. You said we would.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, tipping his head back, downing the rest of his whisky in one go. The burn in his throat was welcome.

She sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to get ready.”

And with that, she disappeared into the bedroom.

He stood there for a moment, rolling his shoulders back, rubbing a hand across his jaw. He should have told her no. Should have said he wasn’t in the mood, that he was tired, that he had a meeting in the morning. But he didn’t.

Instead, he pushed off the counter and followed her lead.

By the time she reappeared, he had already changed—dark shirt, tailored trousers, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A mask of effort, of normalcy, of a man who was trying.

She disappeared into the bathroom, and he barely paid it any mind. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his watch, focusing on the way the leather strap felt against his skin. He could hear the faint sound of water running, the click of bottles, the rustle of fabric. Normal sounds. Domestic sounds.

And then—

Then he smelt it.

It wasn’t strong. Not yet. Just the faintest trace of something familiar, something he hadn’t smelt in a long time but would recognise anywhere. His muscles locked up before he could stop himself.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

The door opened, and she stepped out, smoothing down the hem of her dress. His stomach twisted as she walked towards him, as the scent followed her, as it wrapped around him like invisible hands, clawing at his throat.

That perfume.

Her perfume.

She came up behind him, looping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, teasing.

“Baby, I didn’t see the gift you left me in the cabinet.”

His blood ran cold.

The perfume.

The bottle he had bought months ago. The one he never got the chance to give her. The one that had sat untouched, hidden away, waiting.

It had always been hers.

And now—now it was on someone else’s skin.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His hands curled into fists against his thighs.

He should have said something. Laughed it off, pulled her closer, kissed the side of her head and pretended it was nothing.

But he couldn’t breathe past the scent. Couldn’t think past the memory of her, of bare shoulders and laughter in the early hours, of soft kisses and whispered promises, of a love that had never been meant to last.

She squeezed his waist lightly. “Shall we go?”

Lando swallowed, forcing himself to nod.

“Yeah,” he said, voice hollow. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, he let another ghost haunt him into the night.

The bar was crowded, warm with bodies and the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter from somewhere in the background. Lando was there, physically, but he wasn’t really there.

He nursed his drink, ice melting, condensation pooling against his fingertips. The others talked, joked, shared stories, but he barely listened. His responses were automatic, nods at the right moments, half-hearted smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She was beside him, her hand resting on his thigh under the table, fingers curling gently, possessively. But he felt nothing.

The scent of her perfume was still clinging to her skin, drifting towards him every time she shifted. It was suffocating. Drenched in memories he didn’t want to touch.

At some point, she turned to him, nudging his arm. “You alright?”

He nodded, took another sip of his drink. “Fine.”

She frowned, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Not yet.

The night dragged. The drinks kept coming. Someone cracked a joke, and she laughed, leaning into him, her lips brushing his jaw as she whispered something playful in his ear. A private joke, something meant to tether him to her, to now.

But it didn’t work.

Because all he could think about was how she used to do the same. How she used to lean in close, her breath warm against his skin, whispering words that only belonged to them.

And now she was gone. And he was here. And none of it felt right.

They got home late.

She kicked off her heels with a sigh, rubbing at the ache in her feet. He went straight to the kitchen.

She watched him from the doorway as he flicked on the kettle, moving through the motions with quiet precision. Reaching for a mug, dropping in a teabag, waiting as the water boiled. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you going to tell me what your deal is?”

Lando didn’t answer straight away. He poured the water, let it steep, added just a splash of milk. Stirred slowly.

Her patience frayed. “You’ve been a million miles away all night.”

Still, he didn’t reply. Just reached for his mug.

It wasn’t just any mug. It was hers.

White ceramic, worn from use, their thumbprints pressed into the glaze in the shape of a heart—a stupid, sentimental thing she had made them buy at a tiny shop near the marina. He should have thrown it away months ago. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He wrapped his hands around it, the warmth seeping into his skin.

She exhaled sharply, a scoff laced with frustration. “You don’t even care, do you?”

He lifted the mug to his lips, took a slow sip. The tea was still too hot, but he barely felt it.

She let out a huff, pushing herself off the doorframe. “Forget it.”

Her footsteps were sharp as she walked away, leaving him standing there in the dim kitchen, alone with his ghosts.

And he let her go.

Again.

The following morning, Lando had a meeting and then was set to play a round of padel with Max.

He woke early, the flat still silent, the weight of last night pressing into his skull like a dull ache. She was still in bed, turned away from him, her breathing slow and even. Asleep, or pretending to be. Either way, he didn’t wake her.

He showered, dressed, and grabbed a coffee on his way out, barely taking a sip before setting it down on the counter. His shirt and shorts matched, his watch fastened, everything in place. From the outside, he looked put together. Like a man who had somewhere to be, something to do, a life moving forward.

But his mind was elsewhere.

He barely remembered the drive to his meeting, barely listened as Zak spoke, nodding at the right moments, offering clipped responses. When it was over, he checked his phone, saw a message from Max confirming the padel court reservation. A part of him considered cancelling, but he didn’t. He needed the distraction.

So he pushed it all down—the night before, the scent of perfume that wasn’t hers, the weight of a mug he should have let go of long ago.

And he left.

She didn’t know what made her do it, but the minute the door locked behind him, she grabbed a bin bag and started throwing his ex’s things inside.

The scarf first. The one draped over the chair in the corner, untouched but ever-present. Then the books. The ones he never read but never moved, the ones with underlined passages that weren’t his. They went into the bag without hesitation.

Her pulse pounded.

She moved to the bathroom, yanking open the cabinet. The perfume bottle sat there, half-used, a reminder, a relic. Her stomach twisted.

She grabbed it, her grip tightening around the glass.

It should have been hers.

All of this should have been hers. The flat, the space in his life, the love he never gave her but still bled for someone else.

She hurled the bottle into the bin bag, the sound of glass hitting plastic sharp in the silence.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

She wanted to wipe her from existence. Wanted to strip the flat of every trace, every lingering ghost. She wanted him to have no choice but to look at her—to really look at her—and see what was in front of him, not what he had lost.

But no matter how much she binned, she knew.

She would never be enough.

She tied the bag, dragging it to the door, her breath unsteady.

And then she waited.

Waited for him to come home. Waited to see if he would even notice.

Waited to see if he would finally let go—or if, once again, he would let her be the only one left hurting.

The moment Lando stepped through the door, he knew.

The air felt wrong. Lighter. Emptier.

His gaze flickered around the flat, his stomach twisting before his mind even caught up. The chair in the corner—bare. The bathroom cabinet—door slightly ajar, something missing. The bookshelf—space where there hadn’t been space before.

His chest tightened.

Slowly, he set his keys down on the counter, his fingers pressing against the cool surface as he exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.

She appeared from the hallway, arms crossed, her expression tense. She had been waiting.

“You binned them,” he said, voice eerily calm.

She lifted her chin. “I—”

His jaw clenched. “Where?”

She hesitated. “Lando—”

“Where.”

Her eyes flicked towards the door. The bin bag sat there, tied up neatly, waiting to be taken out. Waiting to be erased.

Something in him snapped.

She started speaking again, her voice tight with frustration. “You can’t seriously be angry about this. I mean, for God’s sake, Lando—this is pathetic! You’re holding onto a relationship that doesn’t exist anymore. She left. She’s not coming back.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I’ve been patient,” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve given you time, I’ve let you grieve, but I will not—”

“Get out.”

Her breath hitched.

“What?”

His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unreadable.

“Get. Out.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

She searched his face like she was looking for something—doubt, regret, anything that would tell her this was just a knee-jerk reaction, something she could talk him out of.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

Just the weight of the choice she had forced him to make.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You’re really doing this?”

He said nothing.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips, but it held no real humour. “You’re throwing me out over some rubbish?”

Still, he said nothing.

Because it wasn’t about the things. Not really. It was about what they meant. What they were.

The last remnants of something he couldn’t let go of.

She let out a slow, measured breath, her gaze dark with something between anger and hurt. Then, with a sharp nod, she turned.

No pleading. No final words.

Just the sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she grabbed her bag, yanked open the door, and stepped out.

The second the door slammed shut, the flat was quiet again.

Lando closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, pressing the heels of his palms against his temples.

The scent of that fucking perfume still clung to the air.

And he had never felt more alone.

Lando barely made it to the kitchen before his legs gave out.

His back hit the counter as he slid down onto the cold floor, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they rested uselessly in his lap. His throat was tight, unbearably tight, and he let his head fall back against the cabinets, squeezing his eyes shut.

But it didn’t help.

Because the moment he closed them, she was there.

Not the one who had just walked out.

Her.

Sat on the sofa next to him, knees drawn up, a book open in her lap. He could see the way her lips moved as she read under her breath, the way she twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger without even realising she was doing it. He could see the crease between her brows, the small frown she always made when she reached a part she didn’t like.

His chest ached.

He opened his eyes, but it didn’t stop.

She was perched on the countertop now, bare legs swinging, watching him as he pulled food from takeaway bags, her laughter warm and teasing.

"Did you really have to order this much?"

He could almost hear himself scoff, the way he’d rolled his eyes, handing her a container. "You say that now, but you’ll be the first to complain when I don’t share."

The memory hit like a punch to the ribs.

He turned his head, desperate to shake it, but she was still there.

In nothing but her underwear, sprinting down the hallway, shrieking with laughter as he chased her with a pair of dirty socks.

"Lando, I swear to God—"

He had caught her, tackled her onto the bed, their limbs tangled, their laughter dissolving into breathless kisses, into whispered I love yous against each other’s skin.

His vision blurred.

The flat was empty. Silent. Cold.

But he could still hear her.

Still hear that laugh, bright and unrestrained. Still hear the way she used to call his name, still hear the way she used to hum under her breath in the mornings, the way she used to say I love you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The sob tore out of him before he could stop it.

Then another.

And another.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, but the tears kept coming, hot and unrelenting, his chest heaving, his whole body shaking.

She was everywhere.

In the walls. In the air. In him.

And no matter how much time passed, no matter how many times he tried to move forward, no matter how many people tried to take her place—

She was still his.

And he would never, never be hers again.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @driverlando @geauxharry @hzstry

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okwonyo · 5 hours ago

Text

LIKE I LOVE YOU ⟡ when they are jealous𓈒

𝗦𝗢𝗕𝗥𝗘──── 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒.

【 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 】 𝑑’── enhyepn & f!r 12OO fluff established relationship ˊᯅˋ kissing skinship

骚人 ܃ this is so silly ..

reblogs⠀｡｡ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

he wouldn’t lie, especially not to you, by saying that he is not the jealous type. he already knows how obvious it is, at least to you, that’s for sure. when he has a woman as pretty as you are by his side— of course, he doesn’t like whenever someone try to take what is so pretty and so his.

he tries to stay discreet about it, however. he is not the kind to make a scene or pull you out of this conversation with the man that is obviously trying to hit on you. he thanks the deity that made him lucky enough to be loved by you. he loves to see a man getting rightfully rejected.

he can’t help the smile from creeping on his face when you come back to him. he tries to play it off, like he doesn’t care. “was that a good conversation?” he asks, eyes fixated on the man you were talking to earlier.

he knows he miserably failed at playing it cool as soon as the words leave the barrier of his lips. he closes his eyes and mentally slaps himself while you wipe your head towards his direction, with a wide teasing smile, “lee heeseung, are you jealous?

JAY

this further proves a point you established a long time ago— which is that your boyfriend should have never downloaded any social media in the first place. but especially tiktok should be banned from his phone.

“is this seriously how you would answer?” crossing his arms, the man asks. his raised eyebrow gives him a serious look that shouldn’t be funny, but desperately is to you. his expression slowly turns from an annoyed one to the slightest and most lovely pout you have ever seen.

you weren’t aware of how upset he could get over roleplaying fake scenarios he made in his head. all of them starring you getting hit on by a guy he made up in his head. it surely comes from a trend he saw on tiktok and thinking about the current situation makes you giggle even more.

in the middle of the mall, with the chips’ alley on his side and the soda’s one on the other, he looks too cute for you to make fun of him. you whisper as you kiss his pout lovingly, “no, ‘m sorry.” and it immediately turns into a smile.

JAKE

he is not the jealous type. he doesn’t get annoyed at guys that hit on you nor at the ones that stare at you in public—because he would do the same, honestly, if he didn’t already have you. and even if you are dating already, staring and flirting at you, he really does it a lot.

but, if there is one thing he is possessive about, it’s your attention. he loves to have your eyes on him, he loves when you laugh at his jokes, he loves when you don’t pay attention to anyone but him.

therefore, he almost feels like crying when he watches you study. your eyes won’t leave you laptop, and you look so pretty under the spring’s sun rays shining through the windows — he wants to have your attention on him.

from his position on the bed, laying on his side has he looks at you next to him, he pokes your arm cutely. “babe,” he calls you, a gentle pout on his lips when you look at him. “can you give me attention, please?”

SUNGHOON

he never says it. whenever he is jealous, he never talks but it shows through his moves, through the way he acts. with how much of a fan of public display of affection he already is, it gets worse whenever he gets jealous.

all it takes is a single thing, something that you might almost miss— but he doesn’t. he notices right away, whenever someone is looking at you a little too much. with that gaze that says that they want a taste of what is his.

“what is wrong with you?” you laugh quietly at the way your boyfriend pulls you close to him, at how he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. here, as you are in the queue for the movies.

you may look like those annoying couples that can’t stay away from each other in public spaces, but he doesn’t care. he hums against your skin, “nothing, i just want you close.”

SUNOO

“are you talking to you boyfriend?” his voices appears behind you out of nowhere. you wipe your head to the voice’s direction, just to see him peek over your shoulder.

saying that your heart jumps out of your chest is an understatement. the surprise his voice created in you is ridiculous, confirming that you almost forgot he was there.

you push his shoulder playfully, “don’t do things like that?” you laugh and he rolls his eyes. he doesn’t stop trying to find something in your phone, looking at it like it personally offended him. you chuckle out of disbelief, “don’t tell me you were getting jealous.”

he doesn’t answer, still looking at your phone screen to see that you were on a clothing website. one look through your showed basket to tell that you were one click away from buying all the items. “and don’t tell me you were going to buy this without my card.”

JUNGWON

there is nothing that makes him more happy and proud of himself than making you happy. he adores how joyful you are, how your smile shines so bright whenever he gives you something you love.

he was beyond happy. until the human sized hello kitty plushie you just got became his rival. ever since you kissed him as a thank you, your eyes have not left the cartoon cat. you have been holding it as if it was your lifeline for a while now.

his eye twitch when hello kitty follows you to your shared bedroom, “your boyfriend is here,” he says, a little sulky when he watches you put the plushie between your side of the bed and his. “can you give him cuddles too?”

you don’t even have the time to put the plushie on the side nor to think about doing it before he does it for you. then in a instant, all his warmth and weight is pressing you into the mattress.

RIKI

he doesn't like it when it happens, he doesn’t like it all. he feels it, blossoming in his chest and creeping through his throat as flowers in the beginning of spring. he tries to not let jealousy take over him so easily.

but sometimes, he just can’t— and it’s always over the smallest things, about the silliest situation. it’s not like he can help it, especially right now. he knows you have been friends with that guy for a while, it doesn’t make him less jealous, however.

he stands with his hands in his pocket while you and the guy whose name he forgot are talking. he towers over you both and stands tall as he stares down at the man in front of you. your boyfriend is intimidating, he knows it, by the way the other’s eyes shoot towards him. good.

he wants to show off even more, to let his presence known. so he slides his hand out of his pocket before wrapping it around your waist. then he pulls you closer in a swift mention as you giggle.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

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bunni-v1 · 2 days ago

Note

HIHI! Before I make my request, I just wanna say that I absolutely ADORE the way you write the crk characters! The posts you have about Shadow Milk are scarily accurate. On another note, I really enjoyed the Burning Spice x reader hcs, and for my request, could you maybe do some Burning Spice NSFW hcs?🤧🙏 I haven't seen many people do requests for him, so I figured I'd step up and ask!

Burning Spice NSFW Headcannons

🍓Girl, I gotta clear out my askbox AGAIN. I clean it out and then y'all come back with a vengeance. Anyway, you were the first person to rq this, so congrats, you get the special answered ask! Yay! Anyway, Burning Spice is SUCH a challenge for me because we have virtually no content of the guy. This is 90% guesswork on my behalf, so please give me grace lol. Sorry if these are short and kinda bad, my motivation is low rn lol

Tw: NSFW; Rough Sex; Marking (like, bruising and biting); blood mention; predator/prey dynamic mentioned

Info: Burning Spice Cookie x Reader; NSFW

-Burning Spice Cookie is surprisingly lax about sex. It's not something that interests him too much, because once you've done it so many ways, you cannot do much more spicing it up.

-Pre-corruption he had sex semi-frequently with various different partners over a long period of time, but the closer he got to corruption the more... boring sex became. There wasn't much appeal other than dominating his partner, and even then, once he did that it was kind of nothing.

-He's experienced and he's very good at what he does, but he doesn't really care to initiate in most cases. Despite what most might think of him, he values the time he spends with you. Sex seems like it would be a waste of it, so he just doesn't bother with it.

-Unless, of course, you seem to be into the idea. Then his tune changes. Oh, his little warrior wants to try something different? Alright, sure, but he won't hold back on you. (He does, of course, because he can't have you crumbling on him.)

-Your first time with him is... interesting. He is, in all meanings of the word, considerate of you and your well-being the whole time. But, he's also doing everything in his power to see what makes you tick. How far can he push you this time before you need to tap out, how many orgasms can he get, how hard can he get your legs shaking?

-He likes to push you. A big part of his style of sexual intercourse is dominating. In most cases, he likes to go as hard as he can as fast as he can, but he has an inhuman tolerance when it comes to you. So he takes his time figuring out how to dominate you.

-He likes things that puzzle him, he likes having his mind challenged, he likes to have something for his mind to do. With sex, this is especially important. He gets off on the thrill of figuring you out, he wants to see the way you react to everything.

-He's big on predator/prey dynamics, like, really big on them. He likes to set you loose and give you a fixed amount of time to throw him off your trail. Run, hide, set traps, and he'll come after you like a wild animal starved for weeks. You always think you've got him, but he waits until you're comfortable to strike, and he takes you wherever he finds you - so hiding in public isn't a smart idea... or it is... depends on what you're into.

-Speaking of, he is a big proponent of public sex. Like I said in his initial headcannons, he loves to show you off. You both have a lot of pride in being the other's partner, so why not show it off in every way possible?

-Usually, this manifests as him having you bounce on him on his throne while loyal followers come and praise him. They'll be showering him with flowery words and begging for his acknowledgment, but his eyes are only on you. He soaks in your nervous expression, loving the way you shy away from the other cookie's eyes.

-It also can be more ritualistic. What I mean is that, he very well enjoys having people watch, so why not make a festival out of it. The two of you will be on a huge platform, surrounded by rich silk sheets and the eyes of his most loyal followers. They cheer the two of you on, shouting praises and exclamations of joy as you reach your climax.

-Do not think that this means he's in any way okay with sharing. He is not, it's a one-way ticket to get crumbled. If any cookie is foolish enough to even propose the idea they don't live to tell the tale. Look, enjoy, but don't touch.

-A lot of sex with him actually starts as sparring. You are very weak compared to him, so he rarely goes out of his way to spar with you, but he does. When he does, it always ends with you bent over and babbling his name like a mantra.

-He can't help it, the way you fight him with such a cute determined little expression really makes the cogs in his head turn. Flushed face, chest heaving, oh you look heavenly. Wouldn't you look nicer with him splitting you on his dick? Yes, he seems to think so.

-He likes it when you fight back against him, make him work for his own high. It's just what he wants. Kick and bite and punch and scratch as much as you can, he wants to see the marks you leave on him. He wears them with pride, just like you should his.

-And he does mark you up, very well. Your body is littered with bites from him, and you have several new bruises where he restrains you. The most prominent ones are on your thighs, the perfect outline of his fingers practically burned into your dough.

-You always bleed when he bites, his teeth are sharp, and he never cleans it up. He likes seeing the crimson jam dribble down your body. It's a beautiful sight, the very essence of you leaking out for him to see. When he's feeling particularly romantic, he'll smear it across his lips like makeup, and kiss along your body leaving a trail of blood-soaked kisses in his wake.

-Something else to mention, he very much likes to see the two of you connected. He enjoys watching himself sink into you, and he does it in silence. To him, it's beautiful to see your bodies meld together. Even more so, he likes to see evidence of himself in you.

-So, he always cums inside and he never uses protection. He likes to see his cum leak out of your abused little hole, he'll scoop it out of you after the fact with a scary reverence in his eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he cleans you up well, so it's best to let it be.

-He also likes to feel himself while he's inside you. He'll press on your stomach so he can enjoy the way he fits more directly. If you squirm, it just makes it all the better for him. The pleasure is only heightened by your wiggling, so keep it up.

-Okay, we have to acknowledge his size. It's impossible not to do so with how big he is in the game - he is significantly larger than every cookie we've seen so far.

-His dick is large, like very large. It's more... normal... than Shadow Milk Cookie's, but it's not regular by any means. It's big, nearly eight inches long, and about five inches thick. It's the same color as his dough all the way up to the tip, which is a deep reddish-brown color.

-The tip is flat and wide, and it's the same thickness along the entire shaft. The first push-in is always the hardest, but as soon as you adjust, it's easy to take the whole thing... well... what you can fit at least.

-Oh, one last thing, his dick is ribbed. Several bumps line the shaft in a nice pattern, and it rubs you inside like a dream. He knows the effect it has on you too, and he uses it to get you to melt against him like butter.

-He's rough, and he goes rather hard and fast, but he can slow it down sometimes. It's rare, and it isn't something he thinks to do in most cases, but occasionally... just sometimes, you'll get a sweeter side to him.

-That doesn't mean it isn't intense, though. It is intense, even more so than his other style of sex. But it's for different reasons this time.

-Instead of fucking he is making love to you, which seems to be out of character, but I promise you it's not. He loves to show you his devotion to you, and a great way of doing that is through sex.

-If you are, for any reason, feeling insecure he uses sex as a means of expressing just how much you mean to him. Words can only do so much, gifts and mortal possessions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but this? The physical connection between the two of you? It's something more, something deeper than anything else he could give you.

-He holds you close, usually facing him on his lap, and slowly ravishes you. There is to fighting or bruising or biting like this, just raw passion that he has for you. Not an inch of your skin is without his burning touch, the heat between the two of you fogging your mind until you can no longer think.

-The pace he sets is slow and deep, each thrust and movement a deliberate show of his admiration for you. It's only then that you'll hear him praise you, words of affirmation spilling from his lips like warm honey, encouraging you to keep going for him.

-What is the most intense, what gets you shaking, is the way he looks at you. His eyes are unblinking and affixed to your face with nothing but sheer devotion and love. He doesn't let you shy away either, you need to look at him, to see how much he adores you. Only once you are jelly against him will he be satisfied that he has done his part.

#x reader #crk #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice x reader

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