#yeah. this got long enough to go in that tag i think

[abbotjack]

Wearing War

summary : Jack Abbot’s first night off in ten days should’ve been spent in bed—but instead, you go to his favorite dive bar. You wear the skirt. You wear his tags. You push, and Jack—tired, restrained, and entirely yours—snaps.

content/warning : 18+ MDNI!!! explicit smut, dominant boyfriend Jack Abbot, semi-public sex (in a parked truck), use of dog tags in kink context, possessiveness, fingering, vaginal sex, marking/bruising, overstimulation, reader is bratty and teasing, not much plot, mostly smut

word count : 4,323

Jack’s first night off in ten days should’ve been spent in bed.

You’d imagined it—his weight pressing into the mattress, one arm tossed over your waist, the rest of the world pushed away by the rhythm of his breathing. You’d imagined curling into the heat of him, tracing the faint scar beneath his ribcage with your thumb, pressing your face into his chest and not moving for hours.

But instead, you were standing in the doorway of your kitchen, watching him rinse his hands in the sink like he couldn’t quite turn off the part of his brain still stuck at work. His scrub top was balled up on the counter beside him, and his undershirt clung to his back in soft lines.

“Let’s go out,” you said, voice careful but certain. “Just us.”

He didn’t look up right away. Just let the water keep running over his hands like he hadn’t registered the question—or maybe like he was pretending not to.

“Out?” he echoed, like the word didn’t sit right in his mouth after ten nights of nothing but fluorescent lights and hallway coffee. “You mean… out out?”

You stepped into the kitchen, folding your arms. “Yeah. Not fancy. Not fussy. Just somewhere that doesn’t smell like antiseptic or have a monitor beeping in the background.”

That made him glance over. Barely. But enough.

His brow creased like he was doing the mental math—how long since his last shower, how much energy he had left in the tank, whether he could fake his way through being social when he barely felt human.

“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t want… like, a real night out? Something normal. Reservations. Wine list?”

You shook your head. “No. I want you. I want O’Malley’s.”

That got his full attention.

He turned, leaning back against the sink. His dog tags swung slightly when he moved. “O’Malley’s?” he asked, like you’d just suggested robbing a bank.

You took a few steps closer. “Yeah.”

He blinked once. “You want to go to a bar where the jukebox hasn’t worked since ’08, the floor sticks to your shoes, and that guy with the mullet always thinks you're hitting on him just for saying hi?”

You smiled, letting your hands slip up under his shirt, resting lightly against the warm skin of his stomach. “I want you. Where you feel good. Where you’re not someone’s doctor or someone’s emergency. Just… mine. I’ve been coming home to your things, not you. And I want to be somewhere that feels like you again.”

He went quiet at that. Quiet in the way Jack gets when something actually lands. The way he used to go quiet back when you first met him—when you’d say something kind and he didn’t know what to do with it yet.

O’Malley’s wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t even clean. But it was his.

Brick walls stained with decades of smoke and sweat and spilled drinks. The barstools wobbled. The bathroom door didn’t lock unless you jammed it shut with your heel. But it was familiar. Steady. Like Jack.

It was the first place he ever kissed you in public.

The first time you saw him relax—really relax—with his hand on your thigh and his smile easy and unguarded. No pager. No badge. Just him and a beer and the kind of quiet contentment he didn’t let anyone else see.

You wanted that Jack tonight.

Not the version who came home bone-tired and silent, who sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the dark. The one who carried too many stories in his hands and didn’t know where to put them.

“Alright. We’ll go. But I’m not shaving.”

You smiled. “I like you scruffy.”

He kissed you, slow and low, then murmured, “Twenty minutes?”

“Fifteen,” you said, already slipping out of his arms and heading for the bedroom. “You’ve got first round.”

And as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, you made a beeline for that skirt.

The black one.

The one that hadn’t seen daylight since your fourth date—back when he’d taken you to a bar kind of like O'Malley's. A little louder, a little messier, but the same kind of dim lighting and cracked leather booths. You’d leaned against the doorframe of your apartment when the night was over, keys in your hand, heartbeat wild under your skin, and asked, “Do you want to come up?” like you weren’t already hoping he’d press you into the wall and never leave.

He kissed you before he even got his boots off.

Not soft. Not slow. Like something in him had snapped loose. You barely made it to the couch—his hands on your hips, mouth trailing heat down your stomach, skirt bunched at your waist. He was on his knees before you could say another word, eyes dark, breath rough against your skin.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured, voice all gravel and restraint.

You didn’t.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t fumble. Just held your thighs open like he needed to, like he hadn’t had a real taste of anything in months. He made you come twice before he even touched himself. All control. All focus. Like the only thing that mattered was what your body was doing under his.

You still think about how he looked that night.

The way he moved—deliberate and slow, like he was memorizing every inch of you. The low curse he let slip when he finally slid inside. How he pressed his forehead to yours, jaw tight, barely breathing, like you were the only solid thing left in his world. No dirty talk. No theatrics. Just him, wrecking you with nothing but steady hands and a look you’ve never been able to shake.

That night, Jack Abbot stopped pretending. He stopped playing it safe. He stopped pretending he didn’t want you like a man starved.

You hold the skirt up in the warm light of your bedroom, thumb brushing the fabric like a secret, and smile. It’s tighter than you remember. Shorter, too—but maybe that’s just the way you’re looking at it now. With the memory of his hands. His mouth. His voice when he said your name like it was something sacred.

You slide it up your legs slowly. Deliberately.

Because you don’t want soft tonight. You don’t want tired.

You want him. The version of Jack who doesn’t know how to hold back. The version who comes home and remembers exactly who the hell he belongs to.

And by the time he sees you in this?

You want him wrecked.

Not by the shift.

Not by the world.

By you.

When you came downstairs, he was in the kitchen with his phone in one hand, wallet in the other, the porch light casting long shadows across the hardwood.

He didn’t hear you at first. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t look up until he had to.

And when he did—he stopped mid-motion. The screen of his phone still lit, thumb frozen over it, breath caught in his chest like it had nowhere to go.

His eyes dragged down your body and then back up, slow. Controlled. Like he was trying not to react. Like he had to try.

His mouth opened, then shut again. His jaw ticked once.

He wiped a hand down his face, slow and rough, like the sight of you was something he needed to get a grip on before it undid him. “You really—” he started, voice low and ragged, gesturing vaguely toward your legs. “That skirt?”

You leaned against the doorframe with the kind of casual ease that was anything but. “Figured I’d dress for the occasion.”

Jack didn’t move. Just looked at you.

“That skirt’s been in the back of your closet since…” He stopped, biting off the rest like it physically hurt to say it out loud.

You smiled gently. “Yeah. I remember.”

Silence stretched long and heavy between you. His eyes never left yours.

Then, quietly—honestly: “I’m not gonna ask you to change.” He paused. “But don’t ask me to keep my hands to myself.”

You pushed off the frame with a soft shrug. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

When you reached for your bag, he still hadn’t moved.

You had to walk past him to grab your keys, and even then, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t say a word. Just watched. Like he was counting his breaths. Like if he said one thing too soon, this night would tip into something neither of you were dressed for.

You walked out together into the thick hum of summer, the heat sitting low and wet across the driveway. Cicadas buzzed somewhere in the trees. The air smelled like warm concrete and fading sunlight.

As you made your way toward the truck, you let one heel wobble—just a little. Just enough.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, stopping, bending at the knee like you needed to fix the strap.

You didn’t.

But you knew exactly what you were doing.

And you could feel his gaze on you. Hot. Still. Quiet.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t come closer. Just waited, jaw tight, fists curled around the truck keys.

You stood, slow. Turned, met his eyes.

He blinked once. Swallowed. Then turned and opened the passenger side door for you like he wasn’t two seconds from backing you up against it.

The drive was quiet at first. The windows down, the music soft—something bluesy and old, not quite loud enough to distract from the weight between you.

You reached over, let your fingers brush his thigh gently. The shift in him was instant. A subtle inhale. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. His hand gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“You sure you don’t want something nicer than this bar?” he asked finally, voice low and quiet like he already knew the answer but had to give you the out anyway.

You turned toward him, soft smile still in place. “No, honey. This is about you.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked ahead and nodded once. The streetlights passed in slow intervals, the engine humming beneath your feet.

And Jack?

He just drove. Knuckles white against the wheel. Thigh tense under your hand. Mouth pressed into a line like he was already counting down the minutes until you got home—and he could stop pretending he wasn’t about to come undone.

When you walked in, his hand found the small of your back.

“Usual booth,” he said. “I’ll grab drinks.”

You turned, looked up at him with a soft smile. “No, babe. Let me. You always do it.”

He squinted slightly. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Go sit. Relax.”

He hesitated. Then pulled out his wallet, thumbed through it, and handed you his card. You turned and walked to the bar, slow and confident, letting your heels click against the hardwood. The bar was a straight shot from your booth, just far enough that he could still see you. And you made sure to give him a show.

You leaned forward, pretending to read the drink list. Let your hips tilt. Let the skirt shift. Just enough for the lace of your thong to show.

The whistle was immediate.

A low sound from a table of men a few feet away.

And then Jack was there.

Behind you in a blink.

His hand clamped to your lower back.

And the other—

yanked your skirt down.

Hard. Final. Like the motion itself was a correction.

The fabric snapped against your thighs, the sudden pressure sending a jolt through you. You straightened instinctively, blinking.

“Jesus,” you said under your breath.

Jack leaned in. “You really wanna do this here?”

“I was just reading the menu,” you murmured.

“Bullshit. You order the same thing every time. Diet Rum and Coke. No lime. Half ice.”

You swallowed.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t move again. Just pressed his hand firmer to your lower back and let the moment hang.

The bartender handed over your drinks. You took them. Didn’t say anything. Just walked back to the booth with Jack two steps behind.

You slid into the booth—on his side.

He gave you a look.

“What?” you asked, sipping your drink.

“You’re pushing it.”

You shrugged. “I missed you.”

“You’re doing this because I haven’t fucked you in ten days.”

You flushed—heat hitting your cheeks hard.

But you didn’t deny it.

Instead, you leaned in. He thought you were going to kiss him. And then your hand dipped beneath his collar. You pulled the chain free.

Unclipped it.

And slid his dog tags over your head. They settled against your chest, heavy. His name resting between your breasts.

Jack blinked.

Then laughed once. Dark. Rough.

“You wear them,” he said, voice low, “you ride. That’s the deal.”

You smiled. “I know the rules.”

He stared at you another beat.

Then stood.

“We’re leaving.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“You want people to see your cunt?” he cut in. “You want attention? Then let me remind them who you belong to.”

You didn’t argue.

Just followed him out, heart pounding.

You thought you were headed home.

But when he opened the truck door, he looked at you.

“You’re not gonna ride me in bed.”

You blinked.

He nodded to the truck. “You’re gonna ride me right here. Since you wanted to act like bait.”

You got in.

Because that’s exactly what you wanted.

And he knows it.

The truck door shuts behind you with a heavy, final thunk. One of those sounds that doesn’t echo—it lands.

Jack circles around the hood without a word. His boots hit the gravel with a quiet crunch, one slower than the other, rhythm faintly uneven from the prosthetic he’s never once complained about. Shoulders set. Gait loose, but loaded.

He’s not in a rush.

Not because he doesn’t want to touch you.

Because he’s trying not to break.

You sit in the passenger seat, legs drawn up just slightly, thighs tight, heart climbing higher into your throat with every second he doesn’t speak. The skirt’s still riding too high despite his earlier intervention—and the lace between your thighs is still damp. Still warm.

When Jack slides in behind the wheel, he doesn’t touch you.

Just plants both hands on the steering wheel and exhales. Once. Deep. Grounded.

Then he turns his head.

“I knew you wore that skirt on purpose,” he says, voice low. Strained around the edges. Not tired from work, but from holding back. Like keeping his hands to himself has taken more out of him than the last ten nights combined.

He says it like a confession. Like a warning.

And you don’t bother playing coy.

You tilt your head, smile just enough to be dangerous. “Figured you deserved something to look forward to.”

He shifts beside you, slow and quiet. One arm drapes over the back of your seat, casual on the surface—but his fingers find your shoulder. Trail down, soft as breath, to the edge of your collarbone. He lingers there. Just enough to feel your pulse.

“I’ve been looking forward to you for ten nights,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Still, he doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, his palm drags slowly down your chest, not lingering, not teasing—reading.

Then he moves lower.

Hand slipping down your stomach, over the edge of your skirt, until he finds the lace. The wet. The heat.

He hisses through his teeth.

"You’re soaked."

You don’t answer.

“You’ve been walking around like that since the house?” he asks, more statement than question.

Your breath catches.

His fingers press in slightly—not a thrust, just pressure. Just enough to feel.

“I know this body,” he says, low, barely a whisper. “I’ve had this pussy every way you let me. In the shower. Against the wall. Bent over the fucking sink. You think I can’t tell when you’re asking for it?”

Your hips twitch into his hand.

He doesn't give you more.

“You thought this was gonna be cute?” he growls, thumb brushing just beside your clit. “Bend over at the bar. Show everyone the lace I’ve ripped off you a dozen times?”

You bite your lip. Nod.

That makes him laugh. A rough, breathless sound.

“I should take you back in there,” he says. “Let them see what it looks like when you beg.”

You shift toward him, no hesitation now—like your body’s been waiting for this as long as he has. You climb into his lap with practiced ease, knees against the worn leather of the truck seat, thighs bracketing his hips, breath warm against his jaw.

He exhales like the contact knocks something loose in him.

His hands find their way under you, palms settling at the curve of your ass—rough and sure, reverent in the way only a man who’s gone without you can be. Like he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re here. Real. His.

“You missed me,” he murmurs, voice low, thumb dragging a slow arc along the edge of your hip.

“I missed you,” you breathe, your lips brushing his. “You weren’t home. Not really. I kept pretending it was enough just to hear your keys in the door, but it wasn’t. I was alone. I needed—”

Jack kisses you.

Hard.

Not like a question. Like a claim.

It isn’t soft. Isn’t slow. It’s hungry—the kind of kiss that splits you open, that tastes like every second he had to swallow the urge to call you in the middle of the night just to hear you. His mouth is hot and demanding, his grip tightening like he wants you closer, like closer still isn’t enough.

You gasp against him, fingers tangling in the fabric at his shoulders, and that’s when he groans—deep and wrecked—like you just pulled the last thread keeping him together.

Because this isn’t just a kiss.

It’s ten nights of wanting.

And now?

Now he’s got you in his lap, and your skirt’s hitched up, and you’re not stopping him.

You’re meeting him there.

He bites your lip, slow and deliberate. Tugs it between his teeth, groans when you gasp. The sound spills into your mouth and coils low in your stomach, sharp and warm. His hands shift, drag you harder against him, and you feel it—how hard he is under his jeans. How close he’s riding the edge.

You rut against him before you can stop yourself, hips grinding down like instinct, like need. His hands grip tighter, grounding you, guiding you, pulling a sound from your throat you’ve never made for anyone else.

“Fuck,” he mutters, like you’ve undone something deep in him. His mouth finds your jaw, your neck, the corner of your shoulder—fast, focused, starving. Each kiss lands like an answer to every silent plea you made in the nights he was gone.

“Jack,” you whimper, breath stuttering. “Please—”

He growls. Low. Close. A sound like something tearing loose inside him, sharp and intimate and only for you.

His thumb presses into your waist, anchoring you. His eyes are on you now, heavy and dark, like he’s drinking you in—committing this to memory in case the world asks him to go without you again.

“You want it that bad?” he rasps, voice tight. “You want to fuck me right here, like this truck’s the only place that’s ever existed?”

You nod—frantic, breathless.

Your moan says the rest.

And the way he looks at you then—like restraint was never about control. It was about respect. And now, finally, he doesn’t have to wear it.

He grabs your face, hands big and steady, his thumbs resting under your jaw, holding you like he needs you still to speak clearly.

“You wear those tags,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “You ride. Like you promised. You gonna be good for me?”

You nod again, quicker this time.

“Words,” he breathes, brow low. “Tell me.”

“Yes. I’ll be good.”

He exhales like that undoes something else in him. But he doesn’t thank you for it. Doesn’t say a word. Just watches you, jaw clenched, thumb brushing your chin like you’re both already undone and just getting started.

“You made me watch,” he murmurs. “Watch every man in that bar eye what’s mine.”

You meet his stare, voice barely a whisper. “I wanted to remind you.”

“You did.”

He unzips his jeans without breaking eye contact. Slow. Controlled. Not hurried, not desperate. Just decided. Like he’s already known for days exactly how this was going to end.

The tags shift when you lean forward. They clink once against his chest before settling back against warm skin—your skin.

“Do it,” he says, voice scraped raw. “Do what you promised. Ride me.”

His hands guide you—slow, steady, reverent. Like he knows what this is. What it means. What it’ll undo.

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

A pause. One breath. Then another.

“Remind yourself who the fuck you belong to.”

Your hand slips between your bodies. Sure. Smooth. No hesitation now. You find him—hot, hard, already pulsing in your palm—and line him up.

You sink down.

You don’t even make it all the way down before Jack’s hands are on you—possessive, certain, like your body belongs to him and he’s just reclaiming it.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice ragged. His head falls forward, lips brushing your sternum as you sink fully onto him. You feel the tremor run through him. Hear the sharp breath he drags in like he’s been choking without you. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

His fingers splay wide across your hips, holding you there. Not letting you move. Not yet.

“Stay right there,” he growls. “Let me feel it. All of it.”

You whimper, thighs already shaking, because he’s thick, hot, deep—so deep it makes your chest ache. You try to move, to set a rhythm, but his grip tightens instantly.

“No,” he says, tone dropping lower. “This isn’t yours to lead.”

You gasp. “Jack—”

He shuts you up with a thrust so sudden, so deep, you see stars. The sound you make is guttural—raw and involuntary.

His hands grip your waist, drag you down harder against him with the next roll of his hips, his cock hitting that spot that makes your spine arch, your jaw fall slack.

“I’ve been hard for you for ten fucking nights,” he rasps against your collarbone. “You think I’m letting you play games? You think I’m letting you tease me, ride me slow like you’re in charge?”

He pulls back, just enough to look you in the eye.

“You’re not in charge tonight, sweetheart. I am.”

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ease you into it.

He fucks up into you like it’s punishment for making him wait—hands bruising your hips, his mouth hot against your throat, his body straining under yours like he’s holding back from breaking the whole damn truck apart.

Your skirt rides up higher. Your knees scramble for leverage. The windows fog, the air thick with the slap of skin, the creak of leather, your name torn from his throat like he’s never tasted anything better.

His hand slides up your spine, fingers threading through the chain around your neck. His dog tags. His.

And then he yanks.

Not hard. Not cruel. Just enough.

Enough to snap your head back. Enough to leave you gasping. Enough to remind you—he’s home now.

He thrusts up, harder now, sharper. You cry out, clinging to his shoulders, your body unraveling under every precise, unrelenting movement.

“You wanted me to lose it. Wanted to feel me snap.”

“Jack—please—”

His fingers twist the chain tighter, the metal cool against your throat. “You wanted this? You take it.”

Another thrust. And another.

He’s all teeth and tongue now—biting at your jaw, kissing you deep, swearing against your skin like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

You feel your orgasm building hard and fast, coiled tight in your belly.

And he knows. Of course he knows.

“There she is,” he whispers, voice almost gentle in contrast to how he’s fucking you. “You gonna come on me, baby? Hm? Let go for me?”

You nod, eyes wide, breath ragged. “Jack—God—Jack—”

“That’s it,” he says, and he fucks you through it. “Come for me. Come now.”

And when it hits, it slams into you—your whole body tensing, toes curling, nails digging into his chest, a moan torn from your throat that doesn’t sound like anything you’ve ever made before.

He fucks you through it—relentless, controlled—until your walls flutter around him and your body starts to fold.

That’s when he lets go.

He growls your name, hips bucking once, twice—and then he’s buried deep, his jaw clenched, eyes shut. Like he’s finally home.

He stays there. Doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move.

Just holds you.

One arm around your waist. The other still curled in the chain around your neck.

Breathing hard. Pressing kisses to your chest like prayers.

You let a beat pass. Then two.

You shift slightly, still filled. Still aching.

Then you lean back and smirk.

He notices immediately.

“What,” he says flatly, eyes opening just enough to pin you in place, “is that look.”

You blink, all wide-eyed and faux-sweet. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

He raises a brow. “Surprised.”

You nod. Slow. A little too pleased with yourself. “Mmhmm. I thought you were gonna ruin me.”

Jack exhales through his nose. Once. Controlled. His jaw shifts.

“Careful.”

You shrug, grinding down just a little—not enough to be obvious. Just enough for him to feel it.

“I mean… it was good,” you say lightly. “Don’t get me wrong.”

His hand flexes on your hip. Hard.

“But I was expecting…” you trail off, eyes dancing, “more.”

Jack’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Then: “You done?”

You grin. “I don’t know. Are you?”

“No,” he says calmly. “You’re done.”

He shifts under you, cock hardening again. Already thick. Already ready.

Your smirk starts to fade.

But it’s too late.

You’re about to get it.

[myownwholewildworld]

gif by @\pedrospascaled

“for emergencies only” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance. a/n: uhm... yeah, hi? i promise you this fic wrote itself, i almost had nothing to do with it. i am so fucking feral over this man, can't flush him out of my system. lord have mercy... 🙇‍♀️ tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. joel cums in his boxers like the old man he is. mortified!joel but you make him feel good i promise <3 use of viagra. kneading the bulge, kissing the bulge, worshipping the bulge. pussy eating. face/nose riding. squirting. fingering. your slick is his hair gel (scent marking? idk). blowjob. you go cowgirl on him because the poor man can't do extraneous exercise, protect his bones. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. petnames. no description of reader other than afab. w/c: ~4.2k

Joel let go of a big sigh, knees cracking as he sat down on the couch. Even taking a shower was damn exhausting at his age—he preferred it when you scrubbed his back in the bath, massaged his biceps and forearms, gently squeezed his dick while the movement created rippling waves in the water.

He’d only managed to comb through his dry, silvery curls, to throw a worn shirt and some loose boxers on, before he needed to take a break. He was getting too old to go on long, extenuating patrols. Perhaps Joel should take up Tommy’s offer and solely focus on managing the construction in Jackson. He’d have more time with you that way too.

His mind was drifting away, thinking about all the things he would do to you in his free time, when his most delicious desire materialised in front of him. His precious little thing—you.

“Why are you so lonely over here, handsome?” you teased, lips curling into a sinful smile.

You lost no time, sitting beside him, snuggling up to his side. Joel’s arm draped around your shoulders instinctively, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your collarbone.

“I dunno, someone didn’t want to join me in the shower…” he pouted slightly, a laugh tearing up your throat as you poked his ribs with one finger.

“I told you to wait for me, but you’re a grumpy old man who has no patience,” you reproached jokingly.

His eyes rolled back in exasperation, but you were right. He’d just wanted to hop in the shower as soon as he got home, ready to dust off the fatigue of the day.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, shrugging.

His hand slowly moved away from your collarbone up to your neck. Carefully, his fingers dug around your throat, just enough for you to look up at him and gape for air—the sweet pressure on your trachea making you gasp like a little fish out of the water.

“Give your old man a kiss, will ya?” he husked, bowing down his head.

You reached up to him, mouth agape, almost touching his lips. You froze there, your sight simmering with need, awaiting his permission… and when his eyes flicked with lust, you closed the distance and pressed your lips on his.

The kiss quickly became sloppy, your spit coating the stubble around his mouth. Muted, needy moans bubbled up your windpipe—an irresistible call of nature, silently begging him to give you what you wanted, what you needed.

How could he resist you? Joel simply couldn’t, especially when your hand landed on his knee and the making out session came to an end, the tip of your nose tracing his jawline before you pressed a kiss to his beating jugular and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Your palm squeezed the back of his hairy knee, slowly sliding it up his thigh whilst he manspread on the couch. His brown eyes tracked your every move, his legs’ muscles tensing as you playfully approached his groin. A pull in his soft tummy made him flinch when you reached the dip between his crotch and thigh, his cock hardening at the seductive tease.

A throaty moan rumbled through his chest when you tightly gripped the flesh of his inner thigh, thumb lazily stroking the outline of his shaft over the boxers.

“You’re a bit starved for touch today, aren’tcha?” you nudged him, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

His cock twitched.

“And whose fault is that?” he snapped back, nerves on edge.

You simply giggled, shaking your head as your hand finally cupped his growing bulge. Gently kneaded him, massaging his aching balls over the fabric. Joel could feel the warmth of your touch seeping through the boxers, compelling him to grow bigger, harder, thicker.

Your palm rubbed against the covered length of him, then dropped to his sacks again—and, irremediably, his hips bucked up, bare heels dug in the wooden floor. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you cupped his balls like that—lovingly, languidly, exquisitely, taking the weight off him so he could find some bliss.

Seeing you so locked in on his pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips… It just added to your appeal, another reason to love you. Because he did—fuck, yes he did, with all his fucking heart.

Suddenly, you squeezed his balls a bit too harsh, holding your grip as if your life depended on him, kissing his jawline. The unexpected squash on his testicles forced a moan out of him—and something else.

A firing pulse took a hold of him, surging down from his spine directly into his balls, and inevitably his cock throbbed with releasing strength. Joel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He first felt the sticky warmth soaking his boxers, and his eyes quickly shot down to his lap.

There was a wet, growing spot on his underwear. He’d fucking cummed in his boxers like an inexperienced teenager—or the old man he was, despite how adamant he was to deny it—and he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

Embarrassed wouldn’t even start to cover it. Joel was fucking mortified.

His mouth ran dry, heartrate throbbing in his eardrums like a shameful cacophony. This had never occurred before—cumming way too early in his loose boxers, the proof right there for you to see, staining the grey fabric. It happened so fast, so intensely, Joel hadn’t had the time to rein in his own orgasm.

His face flushed with abasement; the tips of his ears hot as embers. Unwrapping his arm from around your shoulders, Joel leaned back, his head slacking back and resting on top of the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his free hand tight in a fist, before a trembling sigh escaped his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at you.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” you replied reassuringly, your tone too sweet for the circumstances you both were in. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his hand out of his face. “This just proves how much you love me, so much you can’t even resist me. It’s hot.”

Joel finally had the courage to look you in the eye, a cocked brow showing his disbelief.

“Hot? You think it’s hot I just came in my boxers with a lil’ tugging?” he repeated out loud, unable to believe what you just had said. “I’m not even hard, sweetheart. It’s… humiliating.”

You nodded to his question, your top teeth sinking in your plump bottom lip. Your eyes locked in on his as your hand travelled down his frame, your thumb stroking the obvious wet spot in his underwear.

“Mhm,” you cooed with a playful grin. “Very hot, not humiliating. And I can fix that. Fix him so we can have a good cuddle.”

“I don’t think I can…” you silenced him with a kiss before you got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

A minute later you were back, towering above him with a sinful little smirk, one hand hidden behind your back.

“Open your mouth,” you requested.

“Huh?”

“Just open it for me, please?” you dragged the last word, blinking rather exaggeratedly.

Joel huffed his disagreement, but ended up obeying. His tongue slid out, patiently waiting for whatever you had in mind. With a flourish, you opened your fist to reveal a blue pill. His eyes lighted up in understanding—he thought he had run out of viagra.

“I always keep a secret stock,” you confessed, reading his mind. “For emergencies only.”

Slowly, you set the pill down on his tongue, your thumb caressing the tip of his wet muscle before you retreated to let him close his mouth. Before Joel could swallow, you bowed down to kiss him, your tongue pushing the pill down his throat with a little needy moan.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pill secure in his belly now. It was just a matter of time, but meanwhile…

“Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,” he growled, the taste of your sweet cunt haunting him. “You deserve to be eaten out—so thoughtful of your old man. It’s what you enjoy most, right? Having your swollen pussy drooling all over my face, leaking into my mouth…”

His words had an immediate effect on you. Joel knew exactly how to get you off—not that you needed any more encouragement. Your clit was already palpitating, your hole gushing for his attention. The promise of a good pussy eating was everything you’d hoped for after feeding him that viagra pill.

You straightened your back, ready to get started, and Joel slithered off the couch until he was sat on the floor, his achy back leaned against the bottom part of the sofa. He sat back a little, his head resting on the edge of the couch while your pants and underwear dropped to the floor.

“Someone’s eager,” he taunted when you kicked off your clothing to one side.

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you exhaled sharply.

Joel curled one long, thick finger at you to invite you to sit on his face, and that was exactly what you did.

You knelt on the sofa, his head right between your thighs, and you anchored your hands to the back of the furniture. His warm breath fanned your pussy, a shiver running up your spine. His broad, calloused hands ran up the back of your legs, coaxing your ass cheeks apart so your slit would crack open for him.

“My sweet girl… You’re already so wet,” he tutted at you, pecking your perineum, the tip of his aquiline nose tickling your entrance. “You really like your old man, don’tcha?”

You were about to answer when Joel lapped your entire seam in one smooth motion before his mouth latched onto your pulsing clit. You sobbed audibly, head lolled back, fingers curling tightly around the cushion of the backrest. Only managing a hushed “mhm,” Joel suckled on your throbbing nub again, pulling the hood back with his tongue.

A myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids when Joel gently nibbled at your bud, his middle finger sliding in your tight hole to rub that precise spot inside your cunt. He ate you out diligently—sucked, licked, bit, flicked your clit… rinse and repeat. Your pussy fluttered around his finger, your moans louder than they should have been considering the thin walls of the house. Sensing your desperation, Joel’s finger slipped out with a pop, to quickly fill your drooling entrance with his tongue.

It was too much—deliciously so. When you thought you’d had the best head ever, Joel always outdid himself. His wet muscle thrusted in and your pussy reciprocated with stuttering squeezes on his tongue. He didn’t falter, not even for a breather—as if he was trying to pull something out of your cunt.

“Jo-Joel…” you mewled, half whimper, half prayer.

You were so drenched, you could feel a flood forming in your womb—a heap of your arousal waiting to drip into his mouth. A tight coil low in your belly with a strangling force, so intense your shut eyes were tearing up, the drops of your silent cries sliding off your temples. Joel didn’t leave a spot unattended, worshipping your puffy pussy lips, your gushing hole, your thudding clit with his tongue and teeth.

Unable to rein in your own lust anymore, you dropped one hand and fisted his hair, forcing him to stay put, still between your trembling thighs. Your body was asking to take control, to let go of the tethers of decency—not that you had much left anyway.

“Wanna ride my face, hm?” Joel muttered with a shaky laugh.

“Mhmmm,” you moaned, shaking your head yes, your bottom lip twitching.

“Go on, baby, use me,” and then he rolled your bundle of nerves between his teeth.

That was the last straw—his words, your undoing. So you did exactly that. Still anchoring his head to the couch, you rocked your hips on his face, just once. His nose traced the entirety of your slit, catching on your clit, and you whined. A second later you were completely sat on his face, almost smothering him, while you rode not only his face, but specifically his nose.

Looking down, you saw his forehead reappear when your hips moved back. Every time you glided over him, the coil tightened and the flood dropped further down in your uterus. Stilling, you circled your waist on his mouth, and then resumed the riding.

It happened too quickly. Suddenly, the dam in your pussy just gave way, and you squirted all over his face while the most wanton moan tore up your throat, your vocal chords feeling raw from so much screaming. The biggest wave—no, tsunami—of your life washed over you, your thighs quivering like crazy while you locked them shut around his head.

Joel eagerly drank everything you offered him, groaning below you like a thirsty man who had not tasted water in days. For a long minute you couldn’t control the spasms of your cunt, dripping onto his nose, mouth and chin, your slick running down his neck and wetting the neck of his shirt.

Heaving, all your muscles finally relaxed, and you dropped to one side to release Joel from the imprisonment of your thighs. A side glance at Joel told you that he was licking off your juices from anywhere his tongue could reach, and that vision made you whimper again.

“I… Uh…” you mumbled, incapable of finding the words to describe what had just happened. “That was… the best head you’ve ever given me, you handsome old man.”

“You mean the best head you’ve ever had, full stop. Right?” he joked while he planted his hands on the edge of the couch to push himself up and sit besides you, his knees loudly cracking.

You laughed, nodding vehemently as you curled up to his side. His face was still wet from your cum, so you swept off some of it for him, kissing it away. The curls freely hanging over his forehead were damp with your slick too, and just that sight made your clit throb again. Raking your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, you combed it back with the product of your arousal.

“You don’t need hair gel if you’ve got me,” you said with a smile, and Joel tsked before letting go of a hearty chuckle.

“My personal hairdresser,” Joel quipped.

His laugh died in his mouth when your taunting hand flew to his bulge again. This time, he was extremely hard. Balls loaded and heavy, cock drumming.

“How’s my toy doing? Ready?” It was a rhetoric question, you could feel how ready he was.

“All… yours,” his words hitched, eyes darkening with a burning desire.

Without wasting another second, you knelt before him on the floor, his thighs spread open to house your frame. You couldn’t resist to lean forward and kiss the wet spot on his underwear, stealing a quick taste. Licking off the stain, you gazed up at him.

Joel was watching your every move with predatory attention, his tight fists resting to either side of him. Trying to convey calmness, but you could feel the eagerness simmering under the surface.

You buried your face in his bulge again, rubbing him over the fabric with your mouth, lips and cheeks. Kneaded him with worshipping heed, pulling the textile between your teeth, drunk with the crispy, sticky sound the wet boxers made when they unglued from his damp cock. Feeling his heartbeat, you inhaled keenly—his scent swarming your senses.

You could spend hours like this, with your face tucked away in his groin, feeling the length of him hardening against your cheek. But you were anxious to shove him down your throat.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his old man’s loose boxers, and Joel lifted his hips off the pillows just enough for you to pull them down his legs, tangled around his ankles. His dick sprung free, swaying in front of you like a tasty lollypop. Cockhead flushed and painfully red, the vein on his underside visibly pulsing, his heavy, full balls tightened up into the base of his dick. And then the cum he’d been so embarrassed about, topping his mushroom head and sliding off his shaft.

It really was a beautiful sight. You pushed his girthy length against his soft tummy and lapped at his balls first, to then find your way up his shaft until your lips sealed shut around his angry cockhead, cleaning off all his nutty spent.

Joel groaned above you, shifting his position ever so slightly, and was gentle enough to caress your cheek with his thumb before he gave you a soft smack.

“Careful not to choke, sweetheart. Take it easy,” he growled, words dying off when you pushed him down your mouth, the hoarse curls at the base tingling your nose. “Easy does it.”

With your mouth full, you gave free rein to your instincts. Took him out completely, a bridge of saliva linking your lips to the tip of his cock, and then shoved him down your throat again. You gagged and whimpered at the same time, precum and spit overflowing from the corners of your mouth. How the end of him hit your uvula, breaching past it… it was the most elated you had ever felt.

Your pace quickly picked up, and soon enough you were bobbing your head on his lap to the point that tomorrow you’d have a stiff neck. But it would be completely worth it. Sucking him off, your tongue swirled around his leaky cockhead to then nip at it. Closing your mouth, you slid his tip over your clenched teeth and lips, making a mess of your face.

“Eaaaasy… Fuck, stop,” Joel tugged at your hair.

You had been so lost in the moment, you looked up at him bewildered. You didn’t want to stop, you could never have enough of him. But realisation quickly hit. His balls were twitching against your chin, a sign that Joel was about to lose it.

“I could have my dick in your mouth all day and night, sweetheart, but I need your pussy now,” he husked, half plea, half threat.

Joel relaxed against the couch when you got up to your feet and straddled him, your knees sunk in the pillows to either side of his legs. Reaching behind you, you grabbed at his throbbing cock, gliding it over your entire slit until it hitched in your entrance.

Biting your lip down to stop a slutty moan from coming out, you locked eyes with him. Watching his façade tumble down every time you descended on his lap was one of the most beautiful sights. So slowly you impaled yourself, taking in how Joel’s face loosened up, his hands firm on your hips—how the crows’ feet kissing the corners of his chocolate eyes would smooth out, how his cheeks would flush, how his nose would do a cute little scrunch, or how his lips would part, letting out a heavy sigh.

Joel tried to fuck up into you when you lifted your hips and you tutted at him, pinning him down so he wouldn’t move.

“Nuh-uh. I’m doing all the work tonight, baby. You just lean back and relax, let me fuck you,” you warned him, an edge to your tone advising him to refrain from complaining.

He’d been on patrol out all day—you knew how tired he was, how his old man’s bones would crack with the gentlest of moves.

“But—”

“No, no buts. If you stay still and behave, I’ll let you come inside. Be good for me, please,” you cooed, your mouth moving against his with every suggestive word.

Joel finally grunted in agreement, and the smile on your face couldn’t be wider—even your cheeks hurt. Despite how badly you wanted to say “good boy,” you didn’t press your luck. Joel was quite dominant, but you enjoyed these subtle shifts in your relationship when he was very tired. So tired you could boss him around with no reprimands.

Once he had settled down, you began riding him, his reassuring hands kneading your hips for encouragement. At first it was slow-paced, his cock lazily swallowed by your labia only half-way through. With every pump, you let him slide a little bit deeper, sweet desperation building up behind his adoring eyes.

And after a few minutes, you were bouncing up and down on his throbbing shaft with heavy, quick dives. You laced your hands behind his neck for support, your forehead resting on his, your sweats mixing. Every time he exhaled, you inhaled his needy groans, high with the passion burning between you two.

His cock filled you up to the brim, especially when he was fully seated in your crying cunt. His tip would kiss your cervix, sending firing signals up your spine, numbing your mind. He was so girthy, your inner walls parted like the Red Sea to greet him, to house him. Every time he pulsed inside, your pussy squeezed him hard—as if they were talking to each other. Joel was the perfect fit to you, in every fucking sense.

His cockhead dragged along your anterior wall, putting pressure on the exact spot that always had you gushing. You were so close to nirvana, you could almost touch the sky with your fingertips. Understanding how close you were—probably because your pussy was uncontrollably fluttering around him—Joel took it upon himself to tip you over the cliff of your pleasure. One of his hands flew to your clit, pressing tight circles on your nub as you, quite literally, jumped on him like a demon possessed—and your whole brain short-circuited right there and then.

“Come for you old man, sweetheart. Squirt all over my cock, drench my lap. Wanna feel her sing around me, milk me fucking dry until my balls are completely empty,” Joel husked against your lips, his thumb quicker on your clit now, pushing back the hood to expose your bundle of nerves to his incessant touch even more. “Can you do that for me, hm?”

You did exactly that the moment Joel stopped petting your clit and, instead, he gently tapped at it with four fingers, the squelching sound driving you crazy. The clapping of skin on skin driving you wild. You finally came, screaming at the top of your lungs, while your hips stuttered above him. Incapable of maintaining any pace now, you sat on his lap—his thudding cock buried down to the hilt in your quivering pussy, the best orgasm of your life hitting you at once.

Your entire body was quaking, your pussy flitting arrhythmically as the last squirts left your insides. Joel was throbbing inside you, grown to a point you thought he might explode. And with the last bit of energy, you clamped down on him as strongly as you could, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” Joel moaned loudly, head tilting back against the couch.

He pulsed one last time, and then finally filled you up. His cum flooded your pussy with long, thick ropes—so much that it was soon gushing out, mixed with your own arousal. It was warm and comforting, knowing that his seed was safe in your cunt. You squeezed once more to completely drain his balls, and he gifted you with some more drops.

You hummed in approval, so satisfied you almost felt sleepy. Joel smacked your right buttock and then hugged you around the waist, feeling your weight on him like a blanket. Neither of you moved, his cock still snug inside your pussy, your breathings loud and heavy.

“We still have a couple of hours before they serve dinner in the community hall. Can’t go anywhere in this… state,” Joel snickered, kissing your cheek.

“Gonna have to take care of this for you, ain’t I?” you whispered, batting your eyelashes at him before you grinded your hips on his lap. Your clit twitched in response, overstimulated. “I need a minute though, I feel like my whole nervous system is on fire right now.”

“Take as long as you need, sweetheart. I could be here all day right until the last minute,” he muttered, his hands gliding over the sweaty skin on your back.

“You’ll need to at least take a shower before we leave. I made a mess of your hair,” you laughed, nudging the vein on his neck with the tip of your nose.

“No, I like this hair gel better. I ain’t washing my hair.”

Your eyes shot up to him. The mere idea of him leaving the house with your slick dampening his hair, him being in public bathed in your pussy scent… while talking to others, fully claiming him as yours… Right then, you brain chemistry was changed forever.

Your clit throbbed, and you purposefully clutched around his still hard shaft.

“I’m ready again.”

[checkeredflagggs]

Finally Forever

Pairing: lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: lando gets the girl — forever

a/n: this was requested back when I first post finally! Sorry it took so long but I hope you like it

Masterlist | Taglist

Finally | Finally in Love

Private Messages, Lando and Carlos/Rebecca

Private Messages, Rebecca and y/n

Private Messages, Lando and Rebecca

f1gossip

user1: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

↳user2: I’m so excited! I love Rebecca and Carlos!

↳user1: I know!!! I need them married like yesterday

user3: man I hope it’s an engagement ring 🤞🤞🤞🤞

↳user4: same!!

user5: or he could just be buying her a piece of jewelry??

↳user6: that’s what I’m saying — I don’t think they’ve really been together long enough for an engagement ring…

↳user7: ok that’s very true — but this store is well known for its engagement rings?? Like it’s where these people go for their rings

↳user6: really??

↳user7: yeah

↳user6: hmmm 🤔

user8: you know what I want to see??

↳user9: Lando entering a jewelry store??

↳user9: because they’ve been together for years now and there’s still no ring on that finger??

↳user8: all very true

user10: ok it’s all well and good to see him centering a jewelry store but he’s got a mother and sisters? Like it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s for his girlfriend

↳user11: that’s another good point!

↳user12: right? Let’s just stop speculating on drivers lives?

Private Messages, Lando and Max F.

Private Messages, Lando and Max F./Carlos/Rebecca

Private Messages, Lando and Max F.

Private Messages, Lando and y/n

landonorris

liked by papaya_girl, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, maxfewtrell, and 1,297,455 others

tagged: papaya_girl

landonorris: she said yes and i get my forever girl

view all comments

user13: oh my god im so soft for these 2…

maxverstappen1: finally! It only took forever

↳carlossainz55: you don’t even know the half of it…

↳landonorris: go away you muppets and let me enjoy the fiancé life

charles_leclerc: Congratulations!

↳landonorris: thanks man

oscarpiastri: how long did it take you to actually propose?

↳landonorris: I’m actually not listening to you rn

↳papaya_girl: the proposal was actually pretty quick — it only took about 20 texts messages

↳oscarpiastri: he texted you the proposal??

↳oscarpiastri: actually I don’t know why I’m shocked

↳user14: he texted you the proposal 😑😬

↳papaya_girl: he did! It was actually quite cute

↳user14: if you say so…

maxfewtrell: glad you finally manned up

↳landonorris: thanks for the kick in the pants

↳papaya_girl: yes thank you max

iamrebeccad: what about the plan?

↳papaya_girl: you guys had a plan?

↳iamrebeccad: we did!

↳landonorris: yeah the plan was stressing me out so I just went for it

↳papaya_girl: and I’m so glad you did!

user15: this is the content I want to see!

↳user16: oh absolutely

↳user17: congratulations Lando!

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @loveyahachoo @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @woderfulkawaii @fastandcurious16 @lilyofthevalley-09 @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[woniedarlin]

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

[kyunghwannie]

"Collateral Temptation"

Yoo Jeongyeon x Male! Reader.

➤Tags/Genres: Begging, Submission, Biting, Reverse Cowgirl, Public Sex, Hair Pulling, Creampie, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Face-Sitting, Dirty Talk, Breast Worship, Sensation Play, Doggy Style, Mutual Masturbation, Choking, Face Fucking, Mirror Sex

➤Teaser: She swore it was just a favor. One night, one weakness, buried in motel sheets and sealed with silence. But temptation wears a suit now, speaks her name like a secret, and every "thank you" tastes more like surrender. Her vows didn’t break—she slowly unstitched them herself, thread by aching thread. ➤Note: This was requested to be a rather hot and passionate smut of corruption of a pure wife Jeongyeon. So i tried to do so. Iam not that good with a more corrupting or ruining type of plot yet so iam still learning but hey If there's Jeongyeon, everything is fire. ➤ Go read my other Jeongyeon fic "Second Chances" Part-1 & Part-2

=================================

The café was quiet, the kind of place where the hum of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of porcelain cups filled the silence. Jeongyeon sat across from you, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her half-finished iced americano. The usual confidence in her posture was gone—replaced by something heavier, something tired.

"I didn’t think I’d be the one asking for help like this," she admitted, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. You leaned forward slightly, keeping your tone light but firm. "You’re not asking. I offered."

She exhaled sharply, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Still feels shitty." "It’s not." You tapped the folder between you—the one with the loan restructuring plans, the numbers you’d spent nights adjusting just to make sure she wouldn’t drown in interest. "This is what friends do."

Jeongyeon’s fingers stilled. "Friends," she repeated, like she was testing the word. Then she shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "You’re too good at this. At… everything."

You shrugged. "Just decent at math and stubborn enough to argue with bankers."

That got a real laugh out of her, short but bright. "God, I missed this." The second the words left her mouth, her expression flickered—like she hadn’t meant to say it.

The air between you shifted. You could’ve played it off. Should’ve, probably. But something in the way she looked at you—like she was seeing you for the first time in years—made the words slip out before you could stop them. "Yeah? What part?"

Jeongyeon blinked. "What?"

"What did you miss?" You kept your voice easy, like it was just banter, but the weight of the question hung there anyway.

She hesitated. Then, slowly, her fingers curled around her glass. "Talking to someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m…" She trailed off.

"Like you’re what?"

"Like I’m failing." The admission was quiet, almost ashamed. Your chest tightened. "You’re not." Jeongyeon scoffed. "My husband sure thinks so."

There it was—the bitterness, the frustration. You’d heard it in her voice over the phone, seen it in the way her texts got shorter lately. But hearing it now, raw and unfiltered, was different. You hesitated. Then, carefully, you said it. "Maybe he’s the one failing you."

Her head snapped up. You held her gaze, even as your pulse kicked up. "Just saying. You’re Jeongyeon. You don’t fail. You just… haven’t been given the right support."

For a long moment, she just stared at you. Then, quietly: "That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in months."

The silence stretched. The café noise faded into background static. Then, Jeongyeon leaned back in her chair, studying you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. "You always this smooth when you’re saving people?"

You grinned, deflecting. "Only when they’re pretty." It was a joke. Mostly. But the way her breath hitched—just for a second—wasn’t. Jeongyeon recovered fast, rolling her eyes. "Shut up." But her cheeks were pink.

You laughed, leaning back too. "Make me." he second the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake. Because Jeongyeon’s eyes darkened. Just a fraction. Just enough. And just like that—the air between you wasn’t just shifted. It was charged.

Jeongyeon swirled the melting ice in her glass, the condensation dripping onto the table. She didn’t look up when she spoke next. "Why are you doing this?" The question hung between you, heavier than she probably intended.

You tilted your head. "The loan stuff? I told you—"

"No." She cut you off, finally meeting your eyes. "Not just the paperwork. All of it. The calls. The favors. The way you just… show up." Her voice wavered, just slightly. "Why?"

You could’ve given her a dozen easy answers. Because we’re friends. Because it’s nothing. Because I had time. But the way she was looking at you—like she already knew those were lies—made your throat tighten. So you told the truth. "Because I like you."

Jeongyeon froze. You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck like it was some casual confession. "I mean, come on. You know that. I’ve been obvious since forever."

She stared. "That’s not funny."

"Not trying to be." You held her gaze, even as your pulse hammered. "But it’s whatever. I didn’t say it to make things weird. Just… answering your question."

Jeongyeon’s fingers tightened around her glass. "You never said anything."

"Yeah, well." You shrugged. "You got married." The words landed like a punch. Her breath hitched. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The café noise—the chatter, the clinking cups—felt miles away. Then, quietly, Jeongyeon said: "That’s it?"

You blinked. "What?"

"You just… let it go?" There was something raw in her voice now, something almost accusatory. "You never—" She cut herself off, shaking her head.

You leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Jeongyeon. What was I supposed to do?"

She didn’t answer. So you kept going, softer now. "I wasn’t gonna be that guy. The one who ruins shit because he can’t handle his feelings. You were happy. That mattered more."

Jeongyeon let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Happy." The bitterness in her voice made your chest ache. You hesitated. Then, carefully: "…Are you? Happy?" She looked away. That was answer enough.

You exhaled slowly. "Look. I didn’t tell you this to mess with your head. I just…" You ran a hand through your hair. "I don’t want anything from you, okay? This isn’t some fucking transaction. I helped because I wanted to. That’s it."

Jeongyeon’s jaw clenched. "That’s bullshit." You stiffened. "What?"

"You don’t just do things like this without wanting something back." Her voice was low, almost trembling. "Everyone wants something." The hurt in her words—the certainty—made something in you snap.

"Okay, fine." You leaned in, lowering your voice. "You wanna know what I want? I wanted to see you smile again. I wanted you to stop looking at your phone like it was gonna bite you. I wanted—" You caught yourself, forcing a breath. "Fuck. It doesn’t matter. Point is, I don’t expect anything. Not from you."

Jeongyeon’s lips parted. For a second, she just stared at you, her eyes wide, searching. Then, slowly, something in her expression shifted. "…Liar."

The word wasn’t angry. It was soft. Almost wondering. Jeongyeon held your gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You do want something."

Your mouth went dry. She was right. You wanted her. Not like this—not in some messy, guilty way. But it was too late for that now. The truth was out, hanging between you like a live wire. And the way she was looking at you? Like she knew. Like maybe—just maybe—she wanted it too.

You scoffed, shaking your head before a soft chuckle escaped your lips—light, disarming, the kind of laugh that made your eyes crinkle at the corners. Jeongyeon blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "God, you’re stubborn," you mused, propping your chin lazily on your palm, fingers drumming against your cheek. "Fine. Since you’re so convinced—what exactly do you think I want, Jeongyeon?"

The question hung between you, playful but edged with something heavier. She stiffened, her fingers tightening around her glass again. For a second, she looked like she might deflect—laugh it off, change the subject, retreat behind that familiar wall of hers. But then her gaze flickered down to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before snapping back up. "I don’t know," she muttered, but the way her voice dipped—lower, rougher—betrayed her.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Then why’d you call me a liar?"

Jeongyeon’s jaw worked. "Because you are."

"Mmm." You hummed, leaning in just slightly, close enough that if either of you shifted, your knees might brush under the table. "Or maybe you’re just hoping I am."

Her breath hitched. You grinned, pulling back before the tension could snap. "Relax. I told you—I don’t expect anything. Not a damn thing." You swirled your drink, ice clinking. "Helping you wasn’t some grand scheme. I just…" You shrugged, voice softening. "I like seeing you okay. That’s all."

Jeongyeon stared at you, her expression unreadable. Then, abruptly, she let out a sharp exhale. "You’re infuriating."

You blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you." She dragged a hand through her hair, frustration bleeding into her voice. "You can’t just—say shit like that and act like it’s nothing."

You held up your hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I’m not the one reading into it."

"Bullshit." Her eyes flashed. "You know what you’re doing."

You paused. Then, slowly, your smile faded. "Do I?" The quiet sincerity in your voice made her freeze. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick, charged—like the static before a storm.

Then, Jeongyeon did something unexpected. She laughed. It wasn’t her usual bright, snorting laugh. This was quieter. Rougher. Almost disbelieving. "God," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "This is so fucked."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

She met your eyes, her own dark with something you couldn’t name. "You. Me. This." She gestured vaguely between you. "The fact that you’re sitting here, looking at me like—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. You waited. Jeongyeon exhaled sharply. "Like you still see me."

The raw honesty in her voice punched the air from your lungs. You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally, Jeongyeon pushed back her chair with a scrape of wood against tile. "I should go."

You didn’t stop her. But as she turned to leave, you called out, voice low: "Jeongyeon." She paused, shoulders tense. You smiled, small and sad. "For the record? I always see you." Her breath audibly caught. Then, without another word, she walked away.

Jeongyeon stopped mid-step. Her back was still turned to you, shoulders rigid under the thin fabric of her blouse. The café door was just a few feet away—freedom, escape, the easy way out—but something rooted her in place.

You watched the tension coil in her frame, the way her fingers flexed at her sides like she was fighting with herself. Then, slowly, she turned around.

Her expression was unreadable as she strode back to the table and dropped into her seat with a quiet thud. She didn’t speak. Just leveled you with a look—not angry, not frustrated, but something far more dangerous. Calculating.

You raised an eyebrow. "Change your mind?"

She ignored the question, leaning forward until the table pressed into her forearms. "What do you really want?"

The demand was sharp, stripped of any pretense. You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Jeongyeon’s glare deepened. "This isn’t funny."

"It’s a little funny," you admitted, grinning as you mirrored her posture, elbows on the table. "You’re acting like I’m holding a gun to your head. Relax. I already told you—"

"And I don’t believe you." Her voice was low, insistent. "No one does something like this without wanting something in return."

You sighed, tilting your head. "Okay, fine. Let’s say you’re right. What do you think I want?"

Her jaw tightened. "I’m not playing this game."

"Not a game," you said lightly. "Just curious what’s going on in that head of yours."

Jeongyeon exhaled through her nose, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. Then, abruptly, she leaned back, crossing her arms. "You’re enjoying this."

You blinked. "What?"

"This." She gestured between you. "Watching me squirm. Knowing I can’t just—walk away from this."

The accusation hung in the air, sharp enough to cut. For the first time since she’d sat back down, your smile faded. "That’s not what this is."

"Then what is it?" The question was a challenge. A dare. You held her gaze, the humor draining from your voice. "You really need an answer that badly?"

Jeongyeon didn’t flinch. "Yes." Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. Then, slowly, you shrugged. "Fine. If you’re insisting so much…" You leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur. "I’ll take whatever you think is fair. Whatever best you can offer."

Her breath hitched. You grinned, leaning back before the tension could snap. "Happy now?" Jeongyeon stared at you, her expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, she let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You’re joking."

"Am I?" She studied you for a long moment—searching for the punchline, the trap, the ulterior motive. But when she found nothing, something in her posture shifted. "…You’re serious."

You shrugged again, feigning nonchalance. "I mean, you’re the one who didn’t want to believe me when I said I didn’t want anything. So." You spread your hands. "There’s your answer." Jeongyeon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "This is ridiculous."

"Yep." You popped the ‘p,’ grinning. "But hey, at least now you can stop overthinking it." She shot you a look. "I’m not—"

"You are," you interrupted, laughing. "It’s written all over your face."

Jeongyeon opened her mouth—probably to argue—but then stopped. For a second, she just looked at you, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then, quietly, she said: "You’re really not going to ask for anything."

It wasn’t a question. You met her gaze, all traces of humor gone. "No." The word hung between you, simple and final. Jeongyeon swallowed. And for the first time since she’d walked back to this table—for the first time in years, maybe—she looked lost.

The air between you grew heavier with each passing second of silence. Jeongyeon’s fingers traced idle patterns on the tabletop, her gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder—anywhere but directly at you. You studied the tension in her jaw, the way her throat worked as she swallowed hard. "So," you finally broke the quiet, voice softer now. "What are you gonna do?"

Her eyes flicked back to yours, sharp. "About what?"

You held her stare, unflinching. "About this." A vague gesture between the two of you. "About your husband. About… whatever it is you’re feeling right now."

Jeongyeon let out a slow breath through her nose, her shoulders tightening. "I don’t know." The admission came out strained, almost angry—but not at you. At herself. You hesitated, then went for the question that had been burning in your chest since she sat back down. "…How bad is it, really? With him."

Her laugh was hollow. "What, you want details?"

"I want the truth." You kept your voice steady, even as your pulse thrummed. "Not whatever polished version you think you’re supposed to give."

Jeongyeon’s fingers stilled. For a long moment, she just stared at her half-empty glass, lips pressed into a thin line. Then— "He looks at me like I’m a problem he can’t solve." Her voice was quiet, rough at the edges. "Like every bill, every late payment, every fucking stress in our lives is somehow my fault." She dragged a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. "And the worst part? I let him. Because some stupid, pathetic part of me still thinks—" She cut herself off, shaking her head.

Your chest ached. "Thinks what?" Her eyes met yours, dark and wounded. "That if I just try harder, it’ll fix itself." The raw honesty in her words hit like a punch. You’d known things weren’t perfect—how could they be, with the way she’d been carrying that weight for months?—but hearing it laid bare like this?

You leaned forward without thinking, your voice dropping. "Jeongyeon. Listen to me. None of this is on you." She scoffed. "Easy for you to say."

"No, it’s not." The words came out sharper than you intended. "Because I’m sitting here watching someone I—" You caught yourself, jaw tightening. "Watching someone important tear herself apart over shit she can’t control. And it’s killing me."

Jeongyeon went very, very still. The silence stretched, thick with everything left unsaid. Then, quietly, she asked: "Why does it matter to you so much?"

There it was. The question you’d both been dancing around since she walked back to this table. You could’ve lied. Could’ve brushed it off with a joke or a deflection. But the way she was looking at you—like she already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway—left no room for half-truths.

So you told her. "Because it’s you." Simple. Devastating. "It’s always been you." Jeongyeon’s breath audibly hitched. And just like that—the fragile dam between you cracked.

Jeongyeon's fingers tightened around her glass, knuckles whitening under the pressure. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as she avoided your gaze, chewing on her lower lip in that nervous habit she'd never quite shaken.

Then, abruptly, she spoke.

"I could fuck you."

Your drink nearly slipped from your hand.

She said it so casually—like she was discussing the weather—but the storm in her eyes betrayed her. This wasn't casual. This wasn't simple. This was calculated.

"What?" Your voice came out strangled.

Jeongyeon leaned forward, the table pressing into her forearms as she held your stare without flinching. "You heard me." A beat. "As thanks. For helping me."

The words hung between you, sharp and dangerous.

You should've laughed it off. Should've made a joke, defused the bomb she'd just dropped between you. But the way she was looking at you—eyes dark and defiant, like she was daring you to call her bluff—made your throat go dry.

So you played along. "That's your solution?" Your lips quirked, though there was no humor in it. "Seriously?"

Jeongyeon shrugged, too casual to be genuine. "You said you'd take whatever I could offer. So." Another shrug, but her fingers trembled against the glass. "There it is."

Liar. You saw right through her. This wasn't about gratitude. This wasn't some transactional exchange. This was Jeongyeon, standing at the edge of a cliff and daring herself to jump. You exhaled slowly, forcing your voice steady. "You don't owe me anything."

"I know that," she snapped, but the fire in her words was undercut by the way her breath hitched. "That's not—" She cut herself off, dragging a hand through her hair in frustration. Silence. Then, quieter: "Just say yes or no."

You studied her—the flush creeping up her neck, the way she couldn't quite meet your eyes now. The want she was trying so desperately to mask as something else. And you made your choice. "No."

Her head jerked up, eyes wide. "What?"

You held her gaze, unwavering. "If you're going to proposition me, Jeongyeon, do it because you want to. Not because you think you owe me." A beat. "Not because you're trying to punish yourself."

Her breath caught. Bullseye. For a long moment, she just stared at you, lips parted slightly—like she couldn't decide whether to argue or bolt. Then, slowly, something in her expression shifted.

"...What if I do want to?"

The whispered admission hung between you, fragile and raw.

You didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Jeongyeon swallowed hard, vulnerability flashing across her face before she steeled herself again. "What if this wasn't about debts or gratitude?" Her voice dropped, rough around the edges. "What if it was just... me?"

The air between you grew thicker, heavier—like the charged stillness before a lightning strike.

And then, before you could respond— Jeongyeon reached across the table.

Her fingers brushed against yours, tentative at first, then firmer as she laced them together. The contact sent a jolt through you, electric and undeniable.

Her gaze never left yours. "Tell me to stop," she murmured.

You didn't. Your fingers remained entwined with hers, the warmth of her skin searing into you like a brand. The rational part of your mind screamed at you—pull away, shut this down, don’t be the one who ruins everything.

But the other part—the selfish, aching, weak part that had loved her for longer than you cared to admit—won.

You didn’t tell her to stop.

Jeongyeon exhaled, shaky and uneven, like she’d been holding her breath. Then, slowly, deliberately, her thumb brushed over your knuckles in a slow, aching sweep.

“…Coward,” she murmured, but there was no bite in it. Just something unbearably soft.

You huffed a quiet laugh, even as your pulse pounded in your throat. “Takes one to know one.”

Her lips twitched. “Maybe.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world outside this table—the café, the noise, the life waiting beyond this fragile, stolen moment—faded into irrelevance.

Then, Jeongyeon’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Come home with me.”

The words weren’t a question. They weren’t even an invitation.

They were a decision.

Your breath stalled. “Jeongyeon—”

“Not his place,” she clarified, voice low. “Mine. The apartment I got after—” She cut herself off, jaw tightening. “Just mine.”

The implication hung between you, heavy and unmistakable.

She was choosing this.

Choosing you.

The last shred of your resistance crumbled.

You squeezed her hand back, your voice rough. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jeongyeon’s eyes darkened—relief, want, something dangerously close to desperation flickering in their depths.

Neither of you spoke as she stood, pulling you up with her. Her fingers stayed tangled with yours as she led you out of the café, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you both like a storm cloud.

And for the first time in years—

You didn’t look back.

Time Skip – Jeongyeon’s Apartment

The door barely clicked shut behind you before Jeongyeon’s hands were on you—impatient, desperate, her fingers fisting in the front of your shirt as she shoved you back against the wall.

“Fuck,” she breathed against your lips, already chasing your mouth again before you could even catch your breath.

You let her.

God, you let her.

Her kiss was messy, all teeth and clumsy urgency, like she was trying to outrun the thoughts in her head. You groaned into it, hands finding her waist as she pressed against you, her body flush against yours.

“This—” she gasped between kisses, “—is just—once—”

You knew the lie for what it was.

But you played along anyway.

“Yeah,” you murmured against her lips, letting your hands slide down to grip her hips, pulling her closer. “Just once.”

Jeongyeon made a noise—half frustration, half something broken—before surging forward again, her tongue sliding against yours in a wet, sloppy drag. Her fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to sting, and you groaned, your grip on her tightening.

She was everywhere—her thigh slotting between yours, her nails scraping down your back, her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“You—” she bit at your lower lip, “—better not—fucking—regret this—”

You laughed, rough and breathless, before flipping her around, pinning her against the wall this time.

“You’re the one who should be worried about regrets,” you muttered, ducking your head to nip at her neck.

Jeongyeon gasped, her head thumping back against the wall as your teeth grazed her pulse point.

“Shit—”

Her hands scrambled at your shoulders, your back, like she couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. You didn’t give her the chance to choose—your mouth found hers again, swallowing her moans as your hands slid under her shirt, palms skimming up the warm skin of her stomach.

She arched into your touch with a whine, her body betraying her far more than her words ever could.

“Still just gratitude?” you teased against her lips, thumb brushing over the underside of her breast.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched.

Then, with a growl, she shoved you back—just far enough to yank her shirt over her head and toss it aside.

“Shut up,” she panted, eyes dark. “And touch me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched as your hands slid up her bare waist, thumbs brushing the delicate underside of her breasts. Her skin burned under your touch, every inch of her trembling with restraint—like she was fighting the urge to either shove you away or beg for more.

“Fuck,” she gasped when your fingers traced the lace of her bra, her nails digging into your shoulders. “You—ah—you talk too much.”

You smirked against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there just to feel her shudder. “Me? You’re the one who can’t stop whining.”

She let out a sharp, breathless laugh before catching your lips again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, and you groaned, hands tightening on her hips.

“Hnngh—shut up,” she panted between kisses, her voice already wrecked. “Just—fuck—just touch me already.”

You obliged, one hand sliding up to cup her breast through the lace, thumb circling her nipple until it peaked under your touch. Jeongyeon arched into your palm with a broken moan, her head falling back against the wall. “There,” she breathed, hips grinding against yours. “God, yes—just like that—”

You chuckled, leaning in to lick a stripe up her throat. “So fucking needy.”

She whined, high and desperate, her fingers tangling in your hair to yank your mouth back to hers. The kiss was sloppy, all teeth and clashing tongues, but neither of you cared—not when she was melting against you like this, not when every ragged breath she took was yours.

“You’re mine,” you growled against her lips, hands sliding down to grip the waistband of her jeans. “Just for tonight.”

Jeongyeon’s breath stuttered, her eyes fluttering shut for a second before she forced them open again—dark, hungry.

“Yours,” she agreed, voice rough. “Fuck—just—”

You didn’t let her finish.

With a sharp tug, you popped the button of her jeans, fingers sliding beneath the fabric to tease the damp lace of her panties. Jeongyeon jolted, a strangled gasp escaping her as your fingertips brushed over her. “Wet,” you murmured, dragging your fingers along her slit just to hear her whimper. “All for me?”

She nodded frantically, hips canting into your touch. “Y-yes—please—”

The please nearly undid you. Jeongyeon never begged. But here she was, trembling in your arms, her body pliant and yours—even if just for tonight.

You kissed her again, slow and filthy, as your fingers finally slipped beneath the lace, tracing her folds with agonizing slowness.

“Mmmf—!” She broke the kiss with a gasp, her thighs clamping around your hand. “Fuck, don’t—don’t tease—”

You chuckled, nipping at her jaw. “Who’s teasing?” Then you slid a finger inside her. Jeongyeon screamed.

You pulled back suddenly, your fingers slipping out of her with a wet sound that made her whimper. Jeongyeon’s eyes flew open, dazed and confused, her body still arching toward you—chasing the touch you’d just denied her.

“W-what—?” Her voice was wrecked, breathless.

You smirked, stepping back just far enough to lean against the opposite wall, arms crossing over your chest. “Show me.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” Your gaze dropped pointedly to where her jeans were still undone, her panties damp and clinging. “Touch yourself. Put on a show for me.”

Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing darker. For a second, she just stared at you, lips parted—like she couldn’t decide whether to protest or obey.

Then, slowly, her fingers trailed down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. “Fuck,” she breathed as her fingertips brushed her clit, her hips jerking at the contact.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched, your own pulse pounding as Jeongyeon’s fingers began to move in slow, teasing circles. “H-happy?” she gasped, her other hand bracing against the wall for support. You smirked. “Not yet.”

Jeongyeon groaned, but her fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they moved faster, her touch growing more desperate as she teased herself. “Ahh—!” Her head fell back, her thighs trembling. “F-fuck, I—hnngh—”

You stayed where you were, drinking in the sight of her—the way her chest heaved, the way her fingers glistened as they slid lower, dipping inside herself with a broken moan.

“Mmmf—!” Her hips rolled against her own hand, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Shit, I—I can’t—!”

You finally pushed off the wall, stepping closer—but not touching. Not yet.

“Yes, you can,” you murmured, your voice rough. “Come on, Jeongyeon. Let me see you fall apart.”

Her eyes met yours, dark and pleading—and then she did.

Jeongyeon's fingers worked faster now, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fucked herself with desperate, slick strokes. The wet sounds of her fingers plunging in and out filled the room, mixing with her choked-off moans.

"F-fuck—!" Her head tipped back against the wall, her free hand gripping her own breast roughly, pinching her nipple through the lace of her bra. "Hahh—shit—!"

You stayed where you were, watching her unravel—her thighs trembling, her stomach muscles clenching with every thrust of her fingers. She was close. So fucking close. "That's it," you murmured, your own voice thick with want. "Let me see you come."

Jeongyeon whimpered, her hips jerking erratically as she chased her release. "I—ahh—I can't—!"

"Yes, you can." Your hands flexed at your sides, aching to touch her, but you held back. "Do it. Now."

A broken cry tore from her throat as her back arched off the wall, her body locking up for one suspended second—before she shattered. "NGH—!"

Her thighs clamped around her own hand as she came, her entire body trembling through the waves of pleasure. You watched, transfixed, as her fingers slowed but didn't stop, dragging out every last shuddering aftershock until she was panting, boneless against the wall.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was her ragged breathing. Then, slowly, Jeongyeon lifted her head—her gaze meeting yours, dark and hungry. "Your turn."

The air between you crackled with something electric—charged, dangerous. Jeongyeon’s gaze dropped, her lips parting slightly as she took in the sight of your straining underwear, the fabric stretched taut over the thick outline of your cock. A slow, shaky exhale escaped her.

"Fuck," she breathed, voice rough. You smirked, fingers hooking into the waistband of your boxers. "Problem?"

She didn’t answer. Just watched, transfixed, as you dragged the fabric down inch by torturous inch—until finally, with a sharp snap of elastic, you freed yourself.

Your cock sprang out, thick and heavy, the flushed tip already glistening.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched. For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence stretched, thick with tension, as her eyes traced every vein, every twitch of your length.

Then, slowly, she reached out—her fingers hovering just above your shaft, trembling slightly. "You’re—" She swallowed hard. "You’re bigger than I thought."

You chuckled darkly, your pulse roaring in your ears. "Gonna be a problem?"

Her gaze flicked up to yours, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. "No," she murmured. "Just means I’ll feel you more."

Her fingers finally made contact—feather-light at first, just a tentative brush of her fingertips along your length.

You hissed through your teeth, your cock jerking in her grip. Jeongyeon smirked, her touch growing bolder as she wrapped her hand around you, giving an experimental stroke. "Fuck," you groaned, your hips bucking into her grip.

She hummed, her thumb swiping over your leaking tip, spreading the precum in slow, teasing circles. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice low and husky.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t, not when her fingers were tightening around you, not when her touch was sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Jeongyeon leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me how bad you want me."

Jeongyeon's fingers tightened around your cock, her thumb pressing deliberately against the swollen head as she dragged her palm down your length in one slow, filthy stroke. A bead of precum smeared across her skin, glistening under the dim light.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice dripping with something dark and teasing. "So fucking hard just from watching me. Pathetic."You gritted your teeth, your hips jerking into her grip involuntarily. "Shut the fuck up." She laughed—low, breathy—her fingers squeezing just enough to make you groan. "Make me."

Your hands shot out, gripping her waist as you yanked her forward, your cock sliding against her stomach, leaving a wet trail against her skin. "You want me to shut you up?" you growled, your voice rough. "Then stop talking and open that pretty fucking mouth."

Jeongyeon's breath hitched, her lips parting slightly—just enough for you to see the flash of her tongue. "Or what?" she challenged, her fingers still lazily stroking you. "You gonna force me?"

You smirked, your grip tightening on her hips. "Wouldn't have to force you. You've been begging for it since we walked in."

Her eyes darkened, her free hand coming up to grip your wrist—not to push you away, but to anchor herself. "Prove it," she whispered.

You didn't hesitate. One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back as you shoved your cock past her lips, the tip hitting the back of her throat with a wet choke.

Jeongyeon's eyes watered instantly, her nails digging into your thighs as she gagged around you—but she didn't pull away. "That's it," you groaned, your fingers tightening in her hair. "Take it, slut."

She whimpered, her throat fluttering around you as you pushed deeper, her spit dripping down your shaft.

You pulled back just enough to let her gasp for air before slamming back in, her lips stretched obscenely around your girth. "Fuck—yes," you hissed, your hips jerking forward. "Just like that. Suck it."

Jeongyeon's moan vibrated around you, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as she tried to take you deeper. "Good girl," you praised darkly, your fingers tightening in her hair. "Now swallow."

Jeongyeon’s lips were slick and swollen around you, her throat fluttering in ragged, uneven spasms as she fought to take you deeper. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth, her mascara smudged in dark streaks beneath her lashes—ruined, just like you wanted her.

She pulled back with a wet gasp, her chest heaving, but you didn’t give her a second to recover. Your fingers twisted tighter in her hair, yanking her head back until her neck arched, her breath hitching in warning.

"Did I say you could stop?" you growled.

Her lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl, her tongue darting out to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up your shaft. "Make up your fucking mind," she rasped, her voice wrecked. "You want me to suck it or choke on it?"

Cheeky bitch.

You grinned, sharp and predatory, before shoving her back down onto your cock in one brutal thrust.

Jeongyeon gagged, her nails digging into your thighs hard enough to leave marks, but she didn’t fight you. No—her eyes rolled back, her throat convulsing around you as if her body craved the punishment.

"That’s what I want," you muttered, watching the tears well in her lashes as you fucked her mouth in slow, filthy strokes. "You look so fucking pretty like this—lips stretched, throat bulging. Bet you’d let me ruin you for anyone else, huh?"

She moaned around you, the vibration sending a jolt of heat straight to your gut. "Yeah, you would," you continued, your voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Because you’re mine tonight. My cock’s the only thing you’re allowed to think about. The only thing you’re allowed to feel."

Jeongyeon’s fingers clenched tighter, her hips shifting restlessly against the floor—fuck, was she grinding against nothing? You chuckled, pulling her off just enough to let her gasp for air. "Pathetic. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?"

Her chest heaved, her lips glistening with spit and precum. "Fuck you," she wheezed, but the way her thighs squeezed together betrayed her.

"Oh, I will," you promised, dragging your thumb across her bottom lip. "But first? You’re gonna swallow every last drop like the greedy little whore you are."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—and then, with a glare that could’ve melted steel, she lunged forward, taking you down her throat in one smooth, brutal motion.

Fuck. You saw stars.

The air between you was thick with the sounds of wet, sloppy gasps and the lewd squelch of Jeongyeon's throat struggling to accommodate you. Her lips were stretched obscenely around your girth, spit dripping down her chin in glistening strands that caught the dim light. You watched, transfixed, as her eyelashes fluttered—not in protest, but in something dangerously close to surrender.

Your fingers remained tangled in her hair, not yanking, not forcing—just guiding, your grip firm enough to remind her who was in control.

Jeongyeon's hands, which had been clawing at your thighs moments ago, now rested limply against them, her fingers twitching occasionally as she fought the instinct to push you away. Her throat convulsed around you in tight, involuntary spasms, each one sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

You exhaled slowly, your free hand coming up to trace the tear tracks on her cheeks with your thumb. "You're doing so well," you murmured, your voice low and steady.

Her eyes flicked up to yours, hazy with lust and something else—something raw and unfiltered. A choked whimper vibrated around your cock as you pushed deeper, her nose brushing against your stomach.

You held her there for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling the way her breath hitched through her nose in shallow, frantic pants. Then, with deliberate slowness, you pulled back until just the tip remained between her lips. Jeongyeon gasped, her chest heaving as she gulped down air, her tongue darting out to swipe weakly at your slit. "Again," you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

She didn't hesitate. Her mouth enveloped you once more, her head bobbing in uneven, desperate strokes as she tried to take you deeper, faster—as if she needed this as much as you did.

You let her set the pace for a few blissful seconds before taking over again, your hips rocking forward in shallow thrusts that had her gagging around you.

"Good girl," you praised, your voice rough but calm. "Just like that."

Jeongyeon moaned, the sound muffled and broken, her fingers flexing against your thighs. You could feel your release building, coiling tight in your gut, but you weren't ready yet. Not when she looked this perfect—messy, wrecked, and utterly yours.

So you slowed, pulling back until she was left panting, her lips swollen and glistening. "Look at me," you commanded. Her gaze lifted, her pupils blown wide with want. You smirked. "Let's try that again."

The moment you released your grip on her hair, Jeongyeon didn't pull away. Instead, she dove back in with a hunger that bordered on desperation, her lips sealing around your cock with a wet, obscene noise that echoed in the quiet of the apartment.

This time, she took control.

Her hands came up to grip the base of your shaft, her fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch as she began moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your cock, dragging up in long, languid licks before swirling around the head with a teasing flick. "Fuck—" you exhaled, your fingers flexing at your sides.

Jeongyeon hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. She glanced up at you through her lashes, her gaze dark and knowing, before sinking down again—deeper this time, her throat fluttering as she forced herself to take more.

Spit dripped from her lips, slicking your length as she worked you over with a messy, unhurried rhythm. Every pull of her mouth was deliberate, every flick of her tongue calculated to drag out every last shred of your restraint.

You could feel the heat coiling low in your stomach, your muscles tensing as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. "Jeongyeon—" you warned, your voice rough.

She didn't stop. If anything, she doubled down, her pace quickening just slightly as her fingers twisted at the base of your cock, her other hand coming up to cup your balls with a gentle, teasing pressure. Your hips jerked forward involuntarily, a groan tearing from your throat as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

Jeongyeon pulled back at the last second, her lips popping off your cock with a lewd sound as she leaned back on her heels, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes half-lidded with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"Come on," she murmured, her voice wrecked. "Let me see it."

You didn't need to be told twice. With a sharp exhale, you reached down, fisting your cock in one rough stroke as your release spilled over her face in thick, uneven stripes.

Jeongyeon didn't flinch. She held your gaze the entire time, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop as it slid down her cheek. "Messy," she mused, her lips curling into a smirk. You chuckled, breathless. "You love it."

Jeongyeon wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand, her fingers coming away sticky as she examined the mess you'd left on her skin. A slow, knowing smirk curled at her lips as she looked up at you, her gaze dripping with something between amusement and challenge.

"You really didn't want anything in return, huh?" she drawled, arching an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me."

You exhaled a laugh, your cock still twitching against your thigh, half-hard and glistening under the dim light. "Funny. I seem to recall someone insisting I take payment." You tapped her cheek lightly with two fingers—just enough to make her nose scrunch up in irritation. "What was it again? 'Just once'?"

Jeongyeon swatted your hand away, her lips twisting into a scowl that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe I overestimated your self-control."

"Or maybe," you countered, leaning in just enough to see her breath hitch, "you underestimated how good you'd look with my cum on your face."

Her cheeks darkened, but she held your stare, unflinching. "Wow. Real poetic. Should I be flattered?"

You chuckled, dragging your thumb along her bottom lip, smearing the remnants of your release against her skin. "You tell me. You're the one who practically begged for it."

Jeongyeon's eyes narrowed. "I did not beg—"

"Could've fooled me," you echoed, grinning as you gave her cheek a playful smack with the side of your cock—just hard enough to make a wet, lewd sound against her skin.

She gasped, her hand flying up to swat at you again, but you caught her wrist before she could land the hit. "Hey—!"

You tsked, shaking your head. "Naughty. Don't get pissy just because I'm right." Jeongyeon yanked her arm free with a scoff, wiping at her face again—more aggressively this time. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," you mused, tilting your head, "here you are. Still on your knees."

Her lips parted—then snapped shut again, her jaw working as she visibly fought back whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

The smirk on Jeongyeon’s lips faltered for just a second—just long enough for you to catch the flicker of something raw beneath the snark. She exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers stilling where they’d been wiping at her cheek. "This is fucked up," she muttered, more to herself than to you.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. Jeongyeon’s gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders tensing. "I hate that I don’t hate this."

You tilted your head, studying her. "Guilt doesn’t suit you." She barked out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "Yeah, well, neither does cheating on my husband."

There it was. The admission, ugly and unfiltered, hanging in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled. You didn’t flinch. "You think I don’t know that?"

Jeongyeon’s eyes snapped up to yours, searching—for judgment, for disgust, maybe even for permission. But all she found was quiet understanding. "Then why—?" Her voice cracked.

"Because you needed it," you said simply. "Not just the sex. Not just the distraction. This—someone who doesn’t look at you like you’re a problem to fix."

Her breath hitched. You reached out, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone, smearing the last traces of your release still clinging to her skin. "He’s drowning, and he’s dragging you down with him. But you? You’re still alive."

Jeongyeon shuddered, her lashes fluttering shut for a brief moment before she forced them open again. "That’s not an excuse."

"Did I say it was?" You leaned in, close enough that your breath ghosted over her lips. "I’m just telling you the truth. Whether you want to hear it or not."

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "I hate you." You smirked. "Liar." Jeongyeon didn’t argue.

The air between you was thick with something heavier than lust—something raw and unspoken, tangled in the way Jeongyeon's breath still hitched when you touched her, in the way her fingers trembled even as she tried to glare at you.

You let the silence stretch a beat longer, watching the conflict play out behind her eyes—guilt, want, frustration, all warring for dominance. Then, with a slow smirk, you leaned in, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell you what," you murmured, your thumb dragging along her lower lip. "Let me distract you properly."

Jeongyeon's brow furrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to—ah!"

Her protest cut off in a sharp gasp as you suddenly gripped her thighs and yanked her forward, dragging her across the floor until her legs were sprawled on either side of your hips. She barely had time to brace her hands against your shoulders before you were leaning in, your breath hot against the inside of her thigh.

"You're thinking too much," you muttered, nipping at the sensitive skin there just to feel her jolt. "So shut up and let me fix that."

Jeongyeon's breath came faster, her fingers tightening in your shirt. "Y-you—"

With deliberate slowness, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her jeans, peeling them down her hips along with her soaked panties. The scent of her hit you immediately—warm, heady, undeniably hers—and you groaned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the crease of her thigh.

"Fuck," Jeongyeon whimpered, her hips jerking involuntarily.

You chuckled darkly, your hands sliding under her ass to lift her just enough—then, without warning, you licked a slow, filthy stripe from her entrance all the way up to her clit. Jeongyeon arched, a broken cry tearing from her throat as her thighs clamped around your head. "Oh my god—!

You didn't give her a chance to recover. Your tongue swirled around her clit in tight, relentless circles, your fingers digging into her hips to keep her from squirming away. She was drowning in it—her back bowed off the floor, her hands fisting in your hair hard enough to hurt, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

"You taste perfect," you growled against her, the vibration drawing another desperate whimper from her lips. "Bet you'd come perfect, too."

Jeongyeon sobbed something incoherent, her hips canting into your mouth shamelessly now, chasing the pleasure with a desperation that bordered on pathetic. And you let her.

You let her grind against your tongue, let her fingers tug at your hair, let her fall apart—because for once, she wasn't thinking about debts or guilt or her failing marriage.

She was just feeling. And God, was it beautiful.

Jeongyeon’s thighs trembled violently as she hovered above your face, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The flush on her chest had deepened, spreading down to the tops of her breasts, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch for balance, her knuckles white with tension.

“Fuck—fuck, wait—” she panted, her voice strangled. You smirked up at her, your hands gripping the backs of her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there. “Scared?”

Her eyes flashed—dark, defiant, needy. “Shut up,” she hissed, but her hips jerked forward anyway, her cunt hovering just inches from your mouth.

You exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting your breath ghost over her slick folds. Jeongyeon whimpered, her thighs tightening around your head. “Do it,” you murmured, your voice rough. “Sit.”

For a heartbeat, she hesitated—then, with a sharp inhale, she lowered herself onto your mouth in one slow, deliberate motion.

The moment your tongue made contact, she jolted, a broken cry tearing from her throat as her hands flew to your hair, fisting in it desperately. “Oh—oh my god—!”

You groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her entire body as you licked a slow, filthy stripe from her entrance to her clit. Jeongyeon’s hips jerked forward instinctively, grinding against your mouth with a shameless, desperate roll.

“Fuck—right there—!” she gasped, her thighs clamping around your head as you swirled your tongue around her clit in tight, relentless circles.

You could feel her unraveling—the way her muscles tensed, the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers tugged at your hair hard enough to hurt. She was close, teetering on the edge, her entire body coiled tight with tension.

And then— “Wait—!” she suddenly gasped, her hands yanking your head back just enough to break contact. You blinked up at her, your lips still wet with her. “Problem?”

Jeongyeon’s chest heaved, her pupils blown wide with lust. “I—I don’t—” She swallowed hard, her grip on your hair loosening slightly. “I don’t wanna come yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No?” She shook her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I want—fuck—I want you to ruin me first.”

Your smirk returned, slow and predatory. “Oh, Jeongyeon,” you murmured, your hands sliding up to grip her hips. “You should’ve just said so.”

Then, without warning, you yanked her back down onto your mouth. The moment your tongue delved back in, Jeongyeon’s entire body arched—her back bowing off the couch, her thighs clamping around your head like a vice. A broken, guttural moan tore from her throat as you licked into her with slow, filthy precision, your nose brushing against her clit with every upward stroke.

“F-fuck—!” Her fingers twisted violently in your hair, yanking hard enough to make your scalp sting. “Right there—don’t stop—!”

Your hands slid up to grip her ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh as you pulled her harder against your mouth, your tongue swirling around her clit in tight, relentless circles. Jeongyeon jolted, her hips jerking erratically as she ground down onto your face, her wetness smearing across your chin. “Hahh—! Oh god—!” Her voice was raw, wrecked, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. “M-more—!”

Your tongue flicked faster, your lips sealing around her clit to suck hard, just the way you knew she liked it. Jeongyeon shrieked, her thighs trembling violently as her orgasm crashed over her—wave after wave of pleasure wracking her body as she clenched around nothing, her cunt pulsing against your tongue. But you didn’t let up.

The moment her high started to fade, you dug your tongue back in, licking broad, flat strokes from her entrance to her oversensitive clit. Jeongyeon sobbed, her hands shoving weakly at your forehead. “W-wait—too much—!”

You ignored her. Your fingers tightened on her ass, holding her in place as you lapped at her, your tongue fucking into her in shallow, teasing thrusts. Jeongyeon’s protests dissolved into wordless, hysterical moans, her body twitching helplessly as you pushed her right back to the edge.

“Ngh—! P-please—!” Her voice was barely a whisper, her thighs shaking uncontrollably. “I c-can’t—!” You pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, your lips glistening. “You can,” you murmured, before diving back in.

For a brief, suspended moment, the only sound in the room was Jeongyeon’s ragged breathing—uneven, exhausted, her chest rising and falling in shallow tremors. Her fingers, still tangled loosely in your hair, twitched weakly as she tried to catch her breath, her thighs slackening around your head just enough to let cool air brush against her overheated skin.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against the inside of her thigh, your own breath warm against her damp skin. Jeongyeon exhaled shakily, her voice hoarse. "...You're insane." You chuckled, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to the crease of her thigh. "And yet you're still here." She huffed, her fingers flexing in your hair—not pulling, just holding. "Shut up."

You grinned, tilting your head to nuzzle against her skin, your lips brushing feather-light over the faint marks your stubble had left behind. Jeongyeon shivered, but she didn’t push you away.

For a heartbeat, it was almost sweet—the way her fingers carded through your hair absently, the way her breath steadied just slightly, the way her body relaxed incrementally under your touch.

Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, you dragged your tongue up the inside of her thigh—teasing, not quite touching where she really wanted you. Jeongyeon growled, her grip tightening in your hair. "Asshole."

You laughed, low and rough. "You love it." Her eyes narrowed, her lips curling into something dangerously close to a smile—before she yanked your head back where she wanted you. "Prove it."

Jeongyeon barely had time to gasp before your hands were under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the couch. Her arms instinctively wrapped around your neck, her breath hitching as you carried her through the dimly lit apartment—her legs dangling over your forearm, her back pressed flush against your chest.

"W-wait—" she stammered, but you were already pushing open the bedroom door with your shoulder, the hinges creaking softly in protest.

The bed dipped under her weight as you dropped her onto the mattress, her body bouncing slightly before settling against the rumpled sheets. Jeongyeon propped herself up on her elbows, her hair mussed, her lips still swollen from earlier—but before she could speak, you were crawling over her, your hands sliding up her sides to the hem of her shirt. "Off," you ordered, your voice rough.

Jeongyeon exhaled sharply, but she didn't argue—just lifted her arms obediently as you tugged the fabric over her head, tossing it somewhere to the side. Her bra followed seconds later, the clasp giving way with a practiced flick of your fingers.

And then—there she was. Her breasts spilled into your palms the moment you cupped them, warm and heavy, her nipples already pebbled under your touch. Jeongyeon whimpered, her back arching off the bed as your thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks, circling them in slow, teasing strokes.

"Fuck," she breathed, her fingers twisting in the sheets.

You smirked, leaning down to drag your tongue over one taut bud, savoring the way her breath hitched. "Like that?"

Jeongyeon nodded frantically, her hips canting up uselessly. "Y-yes—more—"

You obliged, sealing your lips around her nipple and sucking hard, your tongue flicking over the peak in quick, relentless circles. Jeongyeon cried out, her back bowing off the mattress as pleasure shot straight to her core, her thighs clamping together instinctively. "Ahh—!" Her hands flew to your hair, tugging desperately. "D-don't stop—!"

You had no intention of stopping. Switching to her other breast, you lavished it with the same attention—nipping, licking, sucking until she was writhing beneath you, her moans growing increasingly broken. "So sensitive," you murmured against her skin, your teeth grazing her nipple just to hear her squeak. "Bet I could make you come just like this."

Jeongyeon's breath stuttered, her hips jerking at the thought—but before she could respond, you pinched her neglected nipple between your fingers, rolling it roughly.

Jeongyeon’s chest heaved under your mouth, her skin glistening with a mix of sweat and spit as you dragged your tongue in broad, sloppy strokes from the swell of one breast to the other. Her nipples were stiff and flushed, pebbled from the constant attention—and you weren’t done yet.

You leaned back just enough to watch the way her breath hitched, her eyes dark and half-lidded as she stared up at you. Then, with deliberate slowness, you let a thick string of saliva drip from your lips onto her left nipple. "F-fuck—" she gasped, her back arching off the bed as the cool wetness hit her overheated skin.

You smirked, blowing lightly on the spit-slick peak just to watch her shiver. "You like that?" Jeongyeon’s fingers twisted in the sheets, her thighs pressing together restlessly. "Y-you’re disgusting," she breathed, but the way her chest rose and fell betrayed her.

"Mm, sure," you hummed, before leaning back down and licking a long, filthy stripe up the underside of her breast, gathering the spit that had pooled there. Jeongyeon whined, her hips jerking as your tongue swirled around her nipple again, this time with just enough pressure to make her toes curl.

"Hahh—!" Her hands flew to your hair, gripping tight as you sealed your lips around her and sucked hard, your tongue pressing flat against the sensitive bud.

You could feel her trembling beneath you, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you switched to her other breast, repeating the same torturous attention—slobbering over her skin, letting spit drip down the curve before licking it back up with slow, exaggerated strokes. Jeongyeon’s moans grew increasingly desperate, her back arching off the bed as you teased her mercilessly, your mouth hot and wet against her. "M-more—" she begged, her voice cracking.

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your lips still glistening. "More what?" Jeongyeon’s cheeks flushed darker, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "More—fuck—more of this—"

You grinned. "Good girl." Then you dove back in, your mouth drowning her in sensation—sucking, licking, slobbering over every inch of her tits until she was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath you.

The last of Jeongyeon’s clothing hit the floor with a soft thud, leaving her bare beneath you—her skin flushed, her chest still heaving from the relentless attention you’d paid to her breasts. Your own clothes followed soon after, tossed carelessly aside until there was nothing left between you but the slick heat of skin on skin.

Your cock, already spit-slick and heavy from earlier, twitched against her thigh as you settled between her legs. Jeongyeon’s breath hitched at the contact, her hips canting up instinctively—but you didn’t give her what she wanted. Not yet.

Instead, your fingers trailed down her stomach, tracing idle circles over her hipbones before dipping lower, just brushing the damp curls between her thighs. Jeongyeon jolted, her nails digging into your shoulders. “Fuck—quit teasing—”

You smirked, pressing a single finger against her entrance, relishing the way her breath stuttered. “You’re already dripping,” you murmured, dragging your fingertip through her slick folds before pushing in, just to the first knuckle. Jeongyeon’s back arched, a choked moan spilling from her lips as her walls fluttered around you. “Ahh—!”

“So fucking wet,” you growled, curling your finger just so, drawing another broken sound from her throat. “All for me?” Jeongyeon’s lips curled into a smirk, despite the way her thighs trembled around your hand. “Don’t—hnngh—don’t flatter yourself,” she panted, her hips rolling against your fingers. “I just—ah!—haven’t been fucked properly in ages.”

You chuckled, adding a second finger and scissoring them slowly, stretching her as her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. “Liar,” you murmured, leaning down to nip at her collarbone. “You’re starving for it.”

Jeongyeon whined, her nails scraping down your back as you crooked your fingers, rubbing against that spot inside her with deliberate precision. “Shit—!”

You didn’t let up, your thumb circling her clit in tight, relentless strokes as your fingers fucked into her, slow and deep. “Tell me,” you demanded, your voice rough. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Jeongyeon’s head thrashed against the pillows, her thighs clamping around your wrist as pleasure coiled tight in her gut. “I—fuck—I hate you—”

You laughed, pressing harder, faster, until her words dissolved into a wordless, hysterical moan. “Yeah?” you taunted, your lips brushing her ear. “Then why are you shaking?”

Jeongyeon sobbed, her hips jerking erratically as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge—until, with a sharp cry, she shattered, her cunt clenching around your fingers as her orgasm ripped through her. You didn’t stop. Not until she was whimpering, her hands shoving weakly at your wrist. “T-too much—”

You pulled your fingers free with a wet pop, bringing them to your lips and licking her taste off with a satisfied hum. “Perfect,” you murmured, before leaning down to kiss her—deep and filthy, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

Jeongyeon moaned into your mouth, her fingers tangling in your hair as she kissed you back with equal fervor. When you finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with want.

“Now,” she panted, her legs hooking around your hips, pulling you closer. “Fuck me.”

You grinned, your cock pressing against her entrance, the tip already slick with her arousal. “Gladly.”

The first thrust was deliberate—slow, torturous, the thick head of your cock spreading her open inch by obscene inch until Jeongyeon’s nails carved crescent moons into your shoulders, her breath stuttering in her throat like a broken record. “F-fuck—” she choked out, her cunt fluttering around you as you bottomed out, her walls clenching like they were trying to milk you dry already.

You groaned, your hips pressing flush against hers, your cock twitching inside her as you gave her a moment to adjust—though adjusting was a fucking joke when her pussy was dripping, her thighs shaking like she’d been starved for it.

Jeongyeon’s head tipped back, her lips parted in a silent gasp as you pulled out almost all the way—just to slam back in with a sharp snap of your hips that punched a ragged scream from her lungs.

“AHHH—!”

That’s more like it. Your hands dug into the meat of her thighs, spreading her wider as you set a brutal pace—no finesse, no patience, just raw, filthy fucking, your cock pistoning in and out of her with enough force to make the bed creak beneath you.

Jeongyeon sobbed, her back arching off the mattress as you hammered into her, each thrust dragging over that spot inside her that made her vision whiten at the edges. “S-shit—!” Her fingers scrambled for purchase, clawing at the sheets like she was clinging for life. “H-harder—!”

You laughed, breathless, your hips snapping forward with enough force to jolt her up the bed. “Greedy,” you growled, your fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise as you yanked her back onto your cock. “Take it.”

Jeongyeon’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, her cunt squeezing around you like a vice as you pounded into her, the wet, squelching sounds of her pussy taking you filling the room alongside her broken moans. “F-fuck—!” Her legs locked around your waist, her heels digging into your ass as if she could force you deeper. “Ruin it—!”

Your fingers tangled violently in Jeongyeon's sweat-damp hair, wrenching her head back until her throat strained in a perfect, vulnerable arch. The choked gasp that spilled from her lips sent a surge of possessive heat straight to your cock, buried to the hilt inside her clenching warmth.

"Look at you," you snarled, your hips snapping forward in a brutal piston motion that made her toes curl against the small of your back. "Taking my cock like a fucking slut after all that whining."

Jeongyeon's moan cracked into a sob as you angled deeper, the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls with each merciless thrust. "S-shut u—AHH!" Her protest dissolved into a shriek as you yanked her hair harder, exposing the fluttering pulse at her throat to your teeth.

You bit down - not enough to break skin but enough to make her squirm, her cunt convulsing around you in desperate little spasms. "You love this," you growled against her sweat-slick skin, punctuating each word with a punishing snap of your hips. "Love getting used, love being my filthy little cock sleeve—"

"Nnh—liar—!" she keened, but the way her nails scored bloody crescents down your back betrayed her. Her thighs trembled where they clamped around your waist, her slick coating your balls with every filthy thrust.

A cruel smirk curled your lips as you adjusted your grip, wrapping her hair around your fist like a rein before pulling - forcing her to meet your gaze through tear-blurred lashes. "Then why," you hissed, driving into her with a particularly vicious stroke that made her eyes roll back, "are you dripping all over my dick, Jeongyeon?"

Her mouth opened - to protest, to curse you, to beg - but all that escaped was a broken wail as you pounded into her, your free hand groping the sweat-slick swell of her breast to pinch a nipple hard. The dual sensations tore another ragged scream from her throat, her walls fluttering around you in erratic pulses as she teetered dangerously close to the edge.

"N-not—not yet—!" she sobbed, her hips jerking in aborted little circles, torn between chasing her pleasure and fleeing the overwhelming sensation.

You laughed - your thrusts turning erratic as your own control frayed. "Beg me to stop then," you challenged, your teeth grazing the shell of her ear. "Go on. Try."

Jeongyeon's breath hitched - her lips parted - Jeongyeon's ragged panting filled the air as her thighs trembled around your waist, her cunt still spasming weakly from the brutal pace you'd set. Sweat glistened along her collarbones, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven jerks as she struggled to catch her breath.

But then—her lips curled. A slow, defiant smirk spread across her swollen mouth, her eyes—still hazy with lust—locking onto yours with something dangerously close to challenge. "You really think..." she panted, her hips rolling just enough to make your cock twitch inside her, "...that this is the worst I've taken?"

Your grip tightened in her hair instinctively, yanking her head back further until her throat arched. "Oh?" you murmured, your thumb brushing roughly over her nipple. "You saying you can handle more?"

Jeongyeon's smirk widened, even as her breath hitched when you twisted your hips, grinding deep. "I'm saying..." she gasped, her fingers scrambling against the sheets, "...you're not half as scary as you think you are."

Bold words.

You chuckled, your free hand sliding down to grip her thigh, digging your fingers into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. "Let's test that theory," you purred—before slamming back into her with enough force to make the headboard crack against the wall. Jeongyeon's back arched off the bed, a broken scream tearing from her throat as you set a punishing new rhythm, each thrust jarring through her with brutal precision. "F-fuck—!"

"Scared yet?" you taunted, your voice rough with strain as her walls clenched around you, her body betraying her bravado with every ragged moan. Jeongyeon's nails dug into your shoulders, her legs locking around your waist tighter—pulling you deeper. "N-not even—ahh!—close," she gasped, her smirk wavering but still there. Oh, you'd break that smirk soon enough.

The air was thick with the scent of sex—musky, primal, hers—as your hips pistoned into Jeongyeon with relentless, animalistic force. Sweat dripped from your brow onto her heaving chest, mingling with the sheen glistening across her flushed skin. Every brutal thrust punched another ragged sound from her throat—ah-ah-AHH!—her voice cracking under the assault.

Jeongyeon’s thighs trembled where they locked around your waist, her heels digging into the small of your back as if she could somehow force you deeper. Her cunt was drenched, clenching around you in erratic spasms, the wet squelch of your cock plunging in and out obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room.

“F-fuck—fuck—!” she sobbed, her nails carving crimson trails down your shoulders. “Y-you’re—nngh!—gonna break me—!”

You laughed, dark and breathless, your fingers tightening in her hair as you yanked her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat to your teeth. “Good,” you groaned before biting down, sucking a bruise into her pulse point as you hammered into her with enough force to jolt her up the bed.

Jeongyeon screeched, her back arching off the mattress, her walls fluttering around you in desperate, uneven clenches. “I-I can’t—!”

“You can,” you snarled, your thrusts turning erratic, your balls slapping against her ass with every snap of your hips. “You’re gonna take it—gonna take every fucking drop—”

Her breath hitched—her eyes widened— And then you slammed into her one last time, burying yourself to the hilt as your orgasm ripped through you with blinding force. “FUCK!”

Hot ropes of cum pulsed deep into her womb, your cock twitching violently as you filled her, your hips grinding forward in shallow, instinctive rolls to milk yourself dry. Jeongyeon wailed, her cunt convulsing around you as her own climax crashed over her—wave after wave of pleasure wracking her body as she dripped around your still-spurting cock.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the wet drip of your combined releases leaking from her stretched hole.

Then—Jeongyeon collapsed back onto the mattress, her limbs boneless, her chest rising and falling in uneven jerks. “...holy shit,” she slurred, her voice wrecked. You smirked, pressing one last, filthy kiss to her swollen lips. “Told you I’d ruin you.”

The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of Jeongyeon’s breathing as she lay beside you, her body still warm and pliant from the aftershocks of pleasure. The sheets were tangled around your legs, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, but for now, none of that mattered.

Her fingers traced idle patterns across your chest, her touch feather-light, as if she were memorizing the feel of your skin. You turned your head to look at her, and for the first time that night, her expression was unguarded—soft, almost vulnerable in the dim light. "This was... nice," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than nice, actually."

A small, tired smile curved her lips, but there was something in her eyes—something bittersweet, something final. You knew what this was. A goodbye. Your chest tightened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead before letting your fingers linger against her cheek. "Yeah," you agreed quietly. "It was."

Jeongyeon exhaled, her lashes fluttering as she leaned into your touch for just a second longer before pulling away. "I mean it," she said, her voice firmer now, though still laced with something unspoken. "I’ll... remember this."

But not enough to stay. The words hung between you, unvoiced but understood. You swallowed the ache in your throat and smiled—really smiled—because if this was all you got, then you’d make sure it was enough. "Good," you said, your thumb brushing one last time over her cheekbone. "Then it was worth it."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched, just slightly, before she shifted, curling into your side with a quiet sigh. You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, memorizing the weight of her against you—the way her body fit so perfectly against yours, as if it were made to be there. But morning would come. And when it did, she would leave. For now, though—just for tonight—you let yourself pretend.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the rumpled sheets where she had been. You reached out before you were fully awake, fingers brushing empty space—still warm, but not enough. The pillow beside you bore the faintest indentation, the ghost of her weight already fading.

The apartment was silent. No rustle of fabric. No hum of the shower running. No soft, sleep-roughened voice murmuring good morning. Just stillness.

You sat up, running a hand through your hair as your gaze swept the room. Her clothes—scattered across the floor last night—were gone. The glass of water she’d left on the nightstand was untouched. And on the pillow, a single folded note. You didn’t need to open it to know what it said. Some things weren’t meant to last.

You exhaled, slow and measured, before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The sheets still smelled like her—like sweat and perfume and something hers—but even that would fade soon. Morning had come. And just like she promised, she was gone.

Interlude: Strangers Again

The first time you saw her after that night was at the grand reopening of her boutique.

Jeongyeon stood near the entrance, dressed in a crisp white blouse and tailored slacks, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She looked every bit the polished business owner—smiling at customers, shaking hands with investors, her laughter bright and practiced. And when her eyes met yours across the room, there was nothing. No flicker of recognition. No warmth. No guilt. Just the polite, detached smile she reserved for strangers.b

Your chest tightened, but you kept your expression neutral as you approached. "Congratulations," you said, handing her the envelope—the final paperwork that would secure her shop’s future. "Thank you," she replied, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest second before pulling away. "We appreciate your help."

We. Not I. Not you and me.

Just we—the royal kind, the kind that meant nothing at all. You forced a smile. "Of course. Business is business." jeongyeon nodded, already turning to greet the next guest, her dismissal clear.

The second time was at a supplier meeting.

You sat across from her in a too-bright conference room, the terms of the new contract laid out between you like a battlefield. Jeongyeon’s husband—tall, broad-shouldered, with a grip that lingered just a second too long when he shook your hand—flanked her like a guard dog. "We’re grateful for your continued support," he said, his voice smooth. "Jeongyeon’s told me how instrumental you’ve been."

You glanced at her, searching for something—a crack in the facade, a hint of the woman who’d gasped your name into the dark. But she just sipped her coffee, her gaze fixed on the paperwork. "Just doing my job," you replied.

Jeongyeon’s pen paused mid-signature. For a heartbeat, the air between you thickened—then she exhaled, scribbling her name with a flourish before pushing the document toward you. "Then consider this the final step," she said, her voice steady. "We won’t need to trouble you anymore."

Her husband smiled. You pretended not to notice the way her knuckles whitened around her cup.

The last time was an accident.

You turned a corner in the shopping district and there she was—no husband, no customers, just Jeongyeon in a sundress, her arms full of fabric samples.

For a second, neither of you moved. Then, quietly: "...Hi." The word was so soft you almost missed it. You swallowed. "Hi."

Jeongyeon shifted her grip on the samples, her eyes darting past your shoulder like she expected someone to appear. "The shop’s doing well," she said finally.

"I heard." a pause. The tension between you was palpable, thick with everything unsaid. Then— "I should go," she murmured, already stepping around you.

You didn’t stop her. But as she walked away, you could’ve sworn you saw her fingers rise—just for a second—to touch the spot on her neck where your teeth had left a mark.

Then she rounded the corner. And just like before, she was gone.

One Month Later

Rain pattered against the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the Seoul skyline into streaks of neon and shadow. You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled beneath your chin as you scanned the quarterly reports—numbers and projections that usually held your focus. Tonight, they were just ink on paper.

A knock at the door. "Come in," you called, not looking up.The door creaked open. Silence.

Then—

"...Hi."

A voice you hadn't heard in weeks. A voice that shouldn't have made your pulse jump. Your head snapped up.

Jeongyeon stood in the doorway, her hair damp from the rain, her fingers twisting around the strap of her purse. No polished smile. No husband in sight. Just her—eyes wide, lips parted, like she'd just run here. Like she wasn't sure why she came. The clock on the wall ticked once. Twice.

You opened your mouth—

Jeongyeon’s Interlude – One Month Earlier

Jeongyeon had slipped out before dawn, her body still singing with the aftershocks of your touch, her skin still carrying the phantom weight of your hands. The note she left was deliberate—polite, impersonal, final. A clean break. Or so she told herself.

But reality had other plans.

Her husband barely noticed her absence when she returned home. He was already halfway through his morning coffee, scrolling through stocks on his phone. "Shop’s reopening next week," she said, testing the waters.

"Mm," he grunted, not looking up. "Good." That was it. No questions. No how did you pull this off? No thank you.

Jeongyeon’s fingers clenched around her own cup. You would’ve asked. You would’ve cared. She swallowed the Thought like a poison.

Two Weeks Later

The boutique flourished. Customers returned. Investors smiled. Her husband, for the first time in months, looked at her. "We should celebrate," he said one night, his hand sliding up her thigh under the dinner table. Jeongyeon stiffened.

His touch was wrong—too familiar, too entitled, like he’d earned the right to her body simply because the business was thriving again. You had touched her like she was precious. She forced a smile. "Not tonight." His expression darkened, but he let her go.

Three Weeks Later

The first time her husband tried to fuck her after that night with you, it was a disaster.

He didn’t prepare her. Didn’t kiss her. Just rolled on top of her, rutting into her dry cunt like he was claiming territory. Jeongyeon bit her lip until it bled, her mind treacherously replaying the way you had worshipped her—the way your tongue had lapped at her until she dripped, the way your cock had stretched her just right, the way you’d whispered against her skin—

"You’re not even wet," her husband snapped, pulling out with a frustrated grunt. She turned her face into the pillow. "Sorry." He didn’t try again.

Four Weeks Later

The dreams started.

Vivid, filthy dreams of you—of your mouth between her thighs, of your hands pinning her wrists, of your voice growling "mine" as you came inside her.

Jeongyeon woke up aching, her panties soaked, her husband snoring beside her. Guilt curdled in her stomach. But worse than the guilt? The longing.

The Breaking Point

The final straw came on a Tuesday.

Her husband brought her coffee—remembered her order for the first time in years—and smiled like he expected a medal.

Jeongyeon stared at the cup, her chest tight.

You had helped her when she had nothing. You had looked at her like she was everything. And what had her husband done? Waited until the storm passed to pretend he gave a damn? Something inside her snapped.

Present Day – Your Office

Rain streaked the windows as Jeongyeon stepped inside, her breaths coming too fast. She looked wrecked. Her hair was damp, her lips bitten raw, her eyes wild with something between desperation and fury.

"Tell me it was just sex," she demanded, her voice trembling. "Tell me you didn’t mean any of it."

The clock ticked. Outside, thunder rumbled. And Jeongyeon—proud, stubborn, broken Jeongyeon—finally cracked. "Because I can’t stop thinking about you."

The air between you crackled like live wires as Jeongyeon stood frozen in your office doorway, raindrops glistening in her hair like shattered diamonds. Your fingers twitched against the armrest of your chair—instinct urging you to stand, to reach for her, to wipe that storm-tossed vulnerability from her face.

Instead, you let the silence stretch. Let her squirm.

Then—slow as sunrise—your lips curved into a smile. Not the polite, professional one you’d worn at her boutique reopening or those agonizing supplier meetings. This was something darker. Hungrier.

"Jeongyeon-ssi," you purred, leaning back in your chair with deliberate laziness. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her throat bobbed. You watched the way her fingers tightened around her purse strap—knuckles whitening—before she lifted her chin. "Don’t." A single syllable, sharp as shattered glass. "Don’t fucking pretend with me."

Oh?

You arched a brow, swiveling your chair just enough to let one knee fall open in a silent invitation. "Then tell me why you’re here," you countered, voice dropping to a velvet growl. "And look me in the eye when you say it."

For a heartbeat, she wavered. Then—

"I hate you." The words tore from her like a confession, her chest heaving. "I hate how you—how you look at me. Like you see me. Like you—" Her voice broke.

You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. "Like I what?"

Jeongyeon flinched.

And that’s when you struck.

Rising fluidly, you closed the distance between you in three strides, crowding her back against the door until it clicked shut behind her. She gasped as your palm slapped against the wood beside her head, caging her in.

"Say it," you demanded, your breath hot against her parted lips. "Or I’ll walk away right now."

A lie. You’d burn the world before walking away from her again.

Jeongyeon’s eyes flooded with furious, traitorous want.

"Like you love me," she whispered.

The moment the words left Jeongyeon’s lips—like you love me—your fingers were already moving.

One hand still braced against the door, the other slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, fingertips skating over damp silk before finding her aching clit in one ruthless stroke.

“Ahh—!”

Jeongyeon’s back arched off the door, her hips jerking against your hand as a broken moan tore from her throat. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her entire body trembling—betrayed by how wet she already was.

“F-fuck—!” she gasped, her head thudding back against the wood. “W-wait—!”

You didn’t.

Your thumb circled her clit in tight, cruel spirals, your lips brushing her ear as she squirmed. “You don’t get to say that,” you growled, “and then tell me to stop.”

Jeongyeon whined, her thighs clamping around your wrist as pleasure jolted through her—sharp and too much after a month of nothing. “I—I didn’t—!”

“Didn’t what?” You nipped at her earlobe, your fingers sliding lower to tease her entrance, gathering her slick. “Didn’t miss this?” A slow, torturous push inside—just one finger, just to feel her clench. “Didn’t dream about it?”

“Ngh—!” Her breath came in ragged pants, her hips rolling helplessly against your hand. “Y-you bastard—!”

You laughed, dark and breathless, curling your finger just so—

Jeongyeon screamed, her cunt pulsing around you as her orgasm ripped through her without warning. Her knees buckled, her entire body seizing as she soaked your fingers, her moans filthy and unrestrained.

You held her up, your lips grazing her temple as she shook through the aftershocks. “Now,” you murmured, “tell me why you’re really here.”

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—her eyes glassy, her lips swollen—before she collapsed against you, her voice barely a whisper.

“…I couldn’t stay away.”

Jeongyeon’s body still trembled against you, her thighs slick with the evidence of just how easily she fell apart under your touch. You withdrew your fingers slowly, watching her eyelashes flutter at the loss—before pressing them against her lips.

“Lick.”

A command, not a request.

Her breath hitched, but after a heartbeat of defiance, her tongue darted out, obediently cleaning her own arousal from your fingers. The sight sent a bolt of possessive heat straight to your cock—fuck, she was made for this. Made for you.

You tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze. “You really thought you could pretend we were just colleagues?” Your thumb dragged over her bottom lip, smearing the last traces of her taste. “After the way you screamed for me? After the way you came on my cock like a slut?”

Jeongyeon flinched, but her pupils were blown, her chest rising and falling in erratic little jerks. “I—I had to—”

“Had to what?” Your voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “Run back to a husband who only touches you when the business is profitable? Who fucks you like he’s doing you a favor?”

A choked sound escaped her throat—half-protest, half-sob—but you didn’t relent.

“I helped you,” you snarled, your fingers tightening in her hair. “Not for the shop. Not for gratitude. Because I wanted you—every damn part of you. And you knew that.”

Jeongyeon’s lips parted, but no words came.

You leaned in, your mouth brushing her ear. “But here’s the truth, baby.” A dark chuckle. “You liked it. Liked knowing I’d ruin everything just to keep you. Liked knowing I ached for you while you played fucking house.”

Her breath stuttered.

“And today?” You pulled back just enough to see the guilt and want warring in her eyes. “You couldn’t take it anymore, could you? Couldn’t stand another night of his pathetic dick when you remembered how mine felt.”

Jeongyeon whimpered, her hips twitching forward like she was already seeking friction.

You grinned.

“Say it.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“I missed you,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I missed your hands, your mouth, your—fuck—your cock.” Her nails dug into your biceps. “I hate that I do, but I—I can’t stop—”

There it was.

The confession you’d been waiting for.

You let out a slow, satisfied exhale before sealing your lips over hers in a kiss that was more punishment than affection—tongue sliding against hers, stealing her breath, claiming her all over again.

When you pulled away, her lips were bruised, her eyes dazed.

“Good girl,” you murmured, dragging your thumb over her swollen mouth. “Now let’s fix that problem of yours.”

The moment your lips crashed back into hers, Jeongyeon melted—her defiance dissolving into a needy, sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. You could taste her surrender, bitter and sweet all at once—coffee from earlier, the lingering salt of her arousal, the sharp tang of her guilt.

Her mouth was sinful, opening eagerly under yours as she moaned, her hands scrambling to grip your shirt like she was afraid you’d vanish.

"Mmhn~... Fuck," she gasped when you bit her lower lip, tugging just hard enough to make her whimper.

You smirked against her mouth, one hand sliding down to palm the plush curve of her ass through her skirt, squeezing roughly. "This what you missed?"

Jeongyeon jolted, her hips instinctively rocking forward—only for your other hand to slide up, fingers roughly kneading the soft weight of her breast through her blouse.

"Ahh~!" Her back arched, pressing herself deeper into your touch as her nipple hardened under your palm. "Y-yes—more—"

You let out a dark chuckle, rolling her stiffened peak between your fingers before dragging her blouse down just enough to expose her.

"Look at you," you murmured, watching her flushed skin pebble under your gaze. "One month without me, and you're desperate."

She whined, her breath hitching as you leaned down, sealing your lips around her nipple and sucking hard—

"Ngh~! Hahh—!" Her nails clawed at your shoulders, her thighs trembling as you teased her with your teeth, your tongue, your hands—every touch calculated to remind her exactly what she’d been missing.

The storm outside raged—thunder cracking like a whip, rain slashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows in furious streaks. The city below was a blur of smeared neon and shadow, the glass trembling faintly under the wind’s assault.

And yet, all Jeongyeon could hear was the ragged sound of her own breathing.

Your mouth was everywhere—hot and demanding as it trailed down her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse before laving the sting away with your tongue. Your hands mapped her body like you were relearning her, reclaiming her—one rough squeeze of her ass, one possessive grope of her breast at a time.

“Ahh~… ngh…” Her head fell back against the window, the glass cool against her feverish skin. The contrast was maddening—the storm’s chill at her back, your heat pressed against her front.

You smirked, watching her reflection in the rain-streaked glass—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, blouse half-undone, skirt rucked up around her hips. “Look at you,” you murmured, nipping at her earlobe. “My pretty little mess.”

Jeongyeon whined, her hips jerking forward in search of friction, but you held her still, your grip firm.

“Not yet,” you chided, dragging your fingers down her stomach, tracing the waistband of her panties—soaked through, just for you. “Gonna make you feel it first. All of it.”

And then your hand slid lower, cupping her through the damp silk, rubbing just hard enough to make her jolt.

“F-fuck!” Her nails scraped against the glass, her thighs quivering. “Y-you—ahh~!”

You laughed, low and dark, your thumb circling her clit in slow, taunting strokes. “Tell me,” you breathed against her throat. “Tell me what you really came here for.”

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—not just from the pleasure, but from the weight in your voice. The ache. The love you weren’t bothering to hide anymore.

And that—more than your touch, more than the storm, more than the risk of being seen—was what undid her.

“You,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I—I came for y-you—”

Your fingers dipped beneath the fabric, sliding through her slick folds, and Jeongyeon shattered with a sob, her orgasm crashing over her like the tempest outside.

With a single guiding hand on her waist, you backed Jeongyeon toward your desk—your grip firm, your silence deliberate. The storm outside painted erratic shadows across the polished wood as she stumbled into its edge, her breath already ragged.

But then—without a word—she pushed you into your chair.

Her fingers trembled as they worked your belt, her pupils blown wide with want. The leather hissed free, your zipper rasped down, and then—

"Fuck," you growled as her small hands curled around your cock, already aching, already throbbing for her.

Jeongyeon didn’t hesitate.

Her lips parted around you, sinking down with a whimper, her tongue pressing hot and eager along your length before hollowing her cheeks to take you deeper.

"Mmmph~… ngh…" Her lashes fluttered as she pulled back, spit-slick and messy, her gaze locked on yours—pleading, possessive, starving.

You let out a rough exhale, your fingers threading into her hair—not guiding, just feeling the way she shivered at the contact.

"Missed this?" you taunted, your voice gravel-dark.

Her answer wasn’t words.

It was the way her nails dug into your thighs, the way her throat fluttered as she swallowed you down again, the way her moans vibrated against your cock like a prayer.

But more than that—it was the tears welling in her eyes as she looked up at you, raw and ruined, like she’d been waiting for this moment since the second she walked away.

Like she’d needed it.

Like she’d needed you.

And that—more than her mouth, more than the storm, more than the fucking city spread out beneath you—was what made your grip tighten in her hair.

"That’s it, baby," you murmured, watching her lips stretch around you. "Take what’s yours."

Jeongyeon’s lips were a wreck—swollen, glistening, stretched obscenely around your cock as she bobbed her head with frantic, desperate hunger. Every inch of her was dripping—her chin slick with spit, her lashes damp with tears, her thighs clenched tight around nothing as she whimpered around you.

Her tongue dragged along your shaft in slow, sloppy strokes, her nose pressing into your pelvis as she took you deep, her throat fluttering in weak little spasms—

"Mmmf—! Hngh~…"

—before pulling back with a gasp, her lips popping off your tip, a thin string of saliva still connecting her to you.

Your hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back before she could catch her breath.

"Did I say you could stop?" you growled, your hips rolling up to meet her mouth again.

Jeongyeon’s eyes watered, her fingers digging into your thighs as she choked around you—but she didn’t fight it.

No, she leaned into it, her moans vibrating against your skin as she let you use her, her tongue laving at your length like she was starved for the taste.

And when your thumb brushed her cheek, smearing the mess she’d made of herself?

She whined, her cunt clenching around nothing—because fuck, she loved this.

The sharp rap at the door sent Jeongyeon’s entire body locking up, her wide, panicked eyes flicking up to yours—but you didn’t let her pull away.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, forcing her back down onto your cock with a firm thrust of your hips.

"Mmmph—!" Her muffled whimper vibrated deliciously around you as her nose pressed into your pelvis, her throat fluttering in protest before relaxing into helpless submission.

"Come in," you called, voice perfectly steady—as if you weren’t currently balls-deep in Yoo Jeongyeon’s sinful mouth.

The door creaked open.

Your assistant manager stepped inside, oblivious, a tablet in hand as rain lashed against the windows behind him. "Sir, the quarterly reports on the new investments just came in. The numbers look strong, but there’s a discrepancy in—"

"Mmm." You cut him off with a hum, your expression schooled into mild disinterest as you lightly rocked your hips, just enough to make Jeongyeon gag softly around you. "Leave it on the desk. I’ll review it later."

The assistant manager hesitated, glancing at the floor—where Jeongyeon’s abandoned purse lay half-hidden under the chair—before nodding. "Right. Of course."

Then—

"Hahh… ngh~…"

A tiny, broken sound escaped Jeongyeon’s throat—barely audible over the storm’s relentless drumming against the glass.

The assistant manager frowned. "Did you hear—?"

"Just the wind," you dismissed smoothly, your fingers massaging Jeongyeon’s scalp in a silent warning. "Close the door on your way out."

For a second, it seemed like he might argue—but then he just nodded again, setting the tablet down before turning to leave.

The click of the door shutting was the sweetest sound Jeongyeon had ever heard.

You yanked her up by her hair, her lips sliding off your cock with a lewd pop, her face a mess of spit and tears.

"F-fuck," she gasped, her chest heaving.

You grinned, thumbing away a stray droplet from her chin. "Told you you’d be good at this."

The moment the door clicked shut, you yanked Jeongyeon up by her hair—her lips leaving your cock with a slick pop—and crushed your mouth against hers in a filthy, possessive kiss. She tasted like salt and sin, her breath hitching as your tongue claimed hers, your grip unrelenting.

But then—

"W-wait—mmph!"

Her protest died against your lips as she felt it—the smooth, cool slide of silk tightening around her wrists behind her back. Your spare tie, pulled taut in one practiced motion, knotting her hands together before she could even process what was happening.

Jeongyeon jerked, her eyes flying wide—but you just smirked, nipping at her bottom lip as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

"Pretty," you murmured, tracing a finger down her bound arms, watching the way the fabric dug into her skin. "Now you’re really mine."

She shivered, her thighs clamping around nothing, her cunt dripping at the realization—helpless, exposed, yours.

The storm outside had reached a fever pitch—rain hammering against the glass like a thousand impatient fingers, thunder growling low and hungry in the distance. But inside, the only sound was Jeongyeon’s ragged breathing as you traced the tip of your pen down the column of her throat.

"Ahh…" Her head fell back, her bound hands flexing uselessly behind her as the cool metal dragged over her pulse.

You tsked, circling her collarbone next, the pressure just shy of pain. "So sensitive," you mused, watching goosebumps erupt in the pen’s wake. "One month without me, and you’re falling apart at a touch."

Jeongyeon whined, her hips jerking forward—but you denied her, stepping back just out of reach.

"Patience," you chided, setting the pen aside to drag your fingertips down her arms instead, digging in just enough to make her squirm. "I’m relearning you."

Your hands mapped her—sculpting the tension from her shoulders, kneading the softness of her waist, skating up her ribs to brush the undersides of her breasts—

"Ngh—!" Her back arched, her nipples pebbling under her blouse.

You hummed, finally cupping her through the fabric, your thumbs flicking over her hardened peaks until she was panting, her thighs glued together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache.

"Please," she gasped, her voice broken.

You grinned, leaning in to lick a stripe up her throat. "Please what?"

Jeongyeon shuddered, her answer lost in a moan as your teeth sank into her shoulder—

—right as your other hand slid into her panties, your fingers dipping into her drenched folds without warning.

"FUCK!"

Her scream echoed off the glass, her cunt clenching around nothing as you teased her entrance, circling her clit with maddening slowness.

"This what you needed?" you murmured, your lips grazing her ear as your fingers tortured her. "My touch? My attention?"

Jeongyeon nodded frantically, her body thrumming with overstimulation, her sanity unraveling with every brush of your fingers.

You chuckled, denying her release just a little longer— —because fuck, you’d missed this too.

Your fingers danced along her inner thigh—featherlight, teasing—just shy of where she needed you most.

“Hahh… ngh…” Her breath hitched, her hips twitching upward in a silent plea. “F-fuck—just—”

You clicked your tongue, dragging your nails up her sensitive skin instead, watching the way her muscles jumped under the sensation. “Just what, baby?”

Jeongyeon whined, her wrists straining against the silk tie binding her. “You know,” she gasped, her voice fraying at the edges. “You’re—fuck—you’re hard for me anyway, so just—ahh!”

Your hand slapped her inner thigh—sharp, stinging—and she jolted, a fresh wave of slick dripping down her folds.

“That,” you growled, leaning in until your lips brushed the shell of her ear, “isn’t how this works.”

Your free hand dug into her hip, holding her still as you finally dragged a single fingertip through her soaked slit—slow, taunting, circling her clit just once before pulling away.

Jeongyeon sobbed, her back bowing off the desk. “P-please—”

“Please what?” you purred, your cock throbbing against your zipper as you watched her unravel. “Use your words.”

She shook her head, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip—stubborn even now, even when her body was begging.

Your mouth descended on her neck, sucking a bruise into her pulse point as your fingers traced her entrance again—pressing in just enough to make her clench around nothing.

“F-fuck!” Her thighs trembled, her cunt pulsing with every near-touch. “I—I can’t—!”

“You can,” you murmured against her skin, your teeth scraping over her collarbone. “And you will.”

Your thumb flicked her clit—once, hard—and Jeongyeon screamed, her body locking up as the first wave of her orgasm ripped through her.

But you didn’t stop. No, you chased it, your fingers driving her higher, deeper, until she was shaking, whimpering, her sanity fraying at the edges—until she was sobbing your name like a prayer. And only then did you finally give her what she really wanted.

With a single tug, the silk tie slithered loose from Jeongyeon’s wrists. She gasped as circulation rushed back into her fingers, her pulse hammering where the fabric had bitten into her skin. You leaned back in your chair, spreading your thighs with a challenge in your smirk.

"Surprise me."

For a heartbeat, she just stared—lips parted, chest heaving, her blouse hanging open to reveal the marks you’d left on her breasts. Then, like a storm breaking, her eyes darkened.

Jeongyeon moved.

In one fluid motion, she spun around, her skirt hiking up as she straddled your lap—back to you, her plush ass pressing against your aching cock. Your hands instinctively gripped her hips, but she slapped them away with a breathless laugh.

"Ah-ah," she purred, glancing at you over her shoulder through her lashes. "My turn."

Then she rose on her knees, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your slacks and briefs, dragging them down just enough to free your cock—thick, twitching, dripping with pre-cum.

"Fuck," you gritted out as she rubbed herself against your length, her slick coating you, her heat maddening.

Jeongyeon moaned, her head falling back as she notched your tip at her entrance—

—and then sank down in one slow, sweet slide.

"Hahh~! Ngh—!" Her back arched, her cunt fluttering around you as she took you deep, her ass jiggling with every inch.

The mirror across the office caught it all—the way her tits bounced as she began to ride you, the way your hands dug into her thighs, the way her face twisted in pleasure as she chased her high.

"Look," you growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a handprint. "Look at how good you take me."

Jeongyeon’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours in the reflection—dazed, desperate, ruined.

"M-more," she begged, her hips rolling faster. "Please—"

You grinned, helping her move with a hand on her waist—

—just as the door creaked open again.

The door swung open with a soft click—just as Jeongyeon’s hips stuttered mid-bounce, your cock buried to the hilt inside her.

Your assistant—Kim Soojin, early twenties, usually unflappable—stood frozen in the doorway, a stack of files clutched to her chest. Her eyes went comically wide, her face flushing a shade of red usually reserved for emergency exit signs.

Jeongyeon squeaked, instinctively trying to hide her face—but with her back to the door and her hair a mess of tangled waves, all Soojin could see was the obscene way her boss’s wife (as she assumed) was impaled in reverse cowgirl, skirt hiked up around her waist, your hands gripping her hips like you owned them.

"S-Sir—!" Soojin stammered, her voice cracking.

You didn’t stop.

In fact, you rolled your hips up, making Jeongyeon gasp as you smirked at your flustered employee. "Soojin-ssi," you drawled, voice dripping with amusement, "didn’t anyone teach you to knock?"

Soojin made a noise like a deflating balloon. "I—I did! Earlier! I just—the contracts—!" She flailed the files like a white flag.

Jeongyeon, mortified, dug her nails into your thighs—whether to silence you or anchor herself, you weren’t sure.

"Mm. Contracts." You squeezed Jeongyeon’s ass, relishing the way her cunt clenched around you. "Leave them on the desk. Quietly."

Soojin scurried forward, eyes glued to the floor, her entire body radiating panic as she practically threw the papers onto the nearest surface.

"S-sorry! So sorry! Won’t happen again! Ever!"

She bolted for the door—only to trip over Jeongyeon’s abandoned purse, sending it skidding across the floor with a clatter.

"Jesus—!"

The door slammed shut behind her.

Silence.

Then—

"Oh my god," Jeongyeon whispered, her entire body burning with humiliation.

You chuckled, thrusting up into her hard enough to make her yelp. "Now that," you murmured, nipping at her shoulder, "was a surprise."

Jeongyeon moaned, her resolve crumbling as you rolled her hips again, her earlier shame drowning in a fresh wave of lust.

"Bastard," she panted—but she was already moving again, her ass clapping against your thighs.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched as your hips snapped up, driving your cock deeper inside her—her slick walls fluttering around you in shameless betrayal.

"Ahh~ ngh…!" Her fingers clawed into your thighs, her back arching as you rolled into her with deliberate, punishing strokes.

You smirked, your voice a low, taunting growl against her ear. "Look at you… getting wetter just because someone saw you." Your hands dug into her hips, guiding her movements as she bounced on your lap. "Did you like that? Knowing she could see your fat ass stuffed full of cock?"

Jeongyeon whimpered, her face burning—but the way her cunt clenched around you told the truth.

"N-no…" she lied, her voice shaking as you thrust up harder, the slap of skin echoing off the glass walls.

"Bullshit," you chuckled, one hand sliding around to pinch her clit between your fingers—making her jolt with a broken cry. "You loved it. Your pussy’s dripping."

Her moan shattered as you circled her sensitive bud, your other hand groping the curve of her ass, spreading her just enough to watch where your cock stretched her.

"M-maybe…" she finally gasped, her hips grinding down in desperate little circles. "F-fuck… maybe I did…"

You groaned, your grip tightening as you pounded up into her, hard enough to make her screech.

"God, you’re perfect."

But then—

Your hands dug into the plush flesh of her ass, spreading her cheeks wide as you admired the view—her glistening pussy stretched around your length, her untouched pucker fluttering with every thrust.

"Fuck," you growled, your thumb brushing over her tight rim, making her jolt. "Look at this… virgin hole."

Jeongyeon whined, her thighs trembling as she tried to clench—but you held her open, your cock pulsing at the thought of claiming her there too.

"Y-your husband," you mused, your voice dark with amusement, "ever try to fuck this pretty little ass?"

She scoffed, her breath hitching as you circled her rim with your thumb. "A-ain’t no one… ahh~!… big enough to try…"

You chuckled, slowing your thrusts to a torturous grind. "Lucky me."

Then—

You leaned forward, your tongue laving a hot, sloppy stripe up from her cunt to her asshole, spitting directly onto her tight ring before pressing in with your tongue.

"HOLY—!" Jeongyeon shrieked, her back arching, her hands scrambling for purchase on your desk. "F-fuck! W-what are you—AHHH~!"

You dug in deeper, your tongue fucking into her with lewd, open-mouthed strokes, your spit dripping down to mix with her arousal.

"Mmm… so fucking tight," you groaned against her, your fingers kneading her ass as you prepped her. "Gonna ruin you here too."

Jeongyeon sobbed, her cunt gushing around your cock as you teased her ass with your tongue—loosening her, stretching her, claiming her in a way no one else had.

And when you finally pulled back, your thumb pressing into her slick, relaxed hole—

—she begged.

"P-please…" Her voice was raw, broken. "I… I want it…"

You grinned, your cock throbbing at the surrender in her tone.

"Then take it."

The air between you was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and something darker—hunger, possession, the thrill of first times. Jeongyeon’s body trembled as you pulled your cock from her dripping cunt, the pop of your release sending a fresh wave of slick down her thighs.

"Ngh…" She clenched around nothing, her hips twitching backward—seeking you even now.

You smirked, dragging the thick head of your cock through her folds, coating yourself in her arousal before teasing her untouched rim with your tip.

"Breathe," you murmured, your free hand massaging the plush curve of her ass. "And relax."

Jeongyeon nodded, her fingers gripping the edge of your desk, her knuckles white with tension.

Then—

You pressed in.

Just the tip.

"F-fuck—!" Her entire body locked up, her back arching, her cunt pulsing around nothing as the burn of the stretch seared through her.

You froze, your jaw clenching at the unbelievable tightness. "Jesus," you gritted out, your fingers digging into her hips. "You’re clenching me like a vice."

Jeongyeon whined, her thighs quivering. "I-it hurts—"

"I know," you soothed, leaning over her to kiss the sweat-slicked curve of her spine. "But it’ll feel so good soon."

You pulled back—just half an inch—before easing in again, deeper this time, the slow, relentless stretch making her whimper.

"Ahh… ngh…" Her fingers scrabbled at the desk, her body adjusting inch by agonizing inch.

You groaned, your cock throbbing as her walls fluttered around you, fighting the intrusion even as they yielded. "Fuck, you’re perfect," you praised, your voice rough with restraint. "Taking me so well."

Jeongyeon moaned, the pain already morphing into something hotter, darker—the fullness, the shame, the filthy knowledge that she was letting you ruin her here.

And when you finally bottomed out, your hips flush against her ass, her gasp was music.

"M-move," she begged, her voice shaking.

With a firm grip on her hips, you yanked Jeongyeon off your lap and onto the plush carpet below. The sudden movement made her gasp, her bound hands instinctively bracing against the floor as you maneuvered her into position—knees spread, ass arched high, her dripping cunt and freshly stretched asshole on obscene display.

"F-fuck—!" she whined, her cheek pressed against the carpet, her back dipped in perfect submission.

You growled, admiring the view—her round ass jiggling with every shaky breath, her thighs glistening with a mix of her arousal and your spit. The storm outside had quieted to a murmur, leaving only the filthy sound of your cock slapping against her as you lined yourself up again.

"Deeper this time," you commanded, your palm smacking her left cheek hard enough to leave a blush of red. "Take all of me."

Jeongyeon nodded, her fingers clawing at the carpet as you notched your tip against her loosened rim—

—and pushed in with one slow, unrelenting thrust.

"NGH~! FUCK!" Her scream was guttural, her body locking up as you stretched her wider than before, the burn of penetration searing through her.

You groaned, your head falling back at the unholy tightness, your fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. "Christ—you’re squeezing me like a fucking vise," you gritted out, your cock twitching inside her.

Jeongyeon panted, her thighs trembling, her cunt dripping onto the carpet beneath her. "I-It’s too much—!"

"Liar," you chuckled, dragging out until just the tip remained before plunging back in—harder, deeper. "Your ass is sucking me in."

Her moan was broken, her body contradicting her words as her back arched, her hips pushing back against you. "M-more—!"

You obliged.

Your thrusts started brutal—pounding into her with no mercy, the slap of skin echoing off the walls, her choked cries music to your ears. The carpet burned against her knees, her bound hands fisting the fibers as you ruined her, your cock spearing her deeper with every snap of your hips.

"Look at you," you growled, one hand fisting her hair to yank her head up toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights blurred through the rain, but her reflection was crystal clear—teary-eyed, drooling, her tits swaying with every jolt of your cock. "Filthy fucking slut, taking it up the ass like you were made for it."

Jeongyeon sobbed, her ass clenching around you as her orgasm crept up on her—unexpected, unrelenting. "I-I’m gonna—AHHH~!"

You grinned, slowing just enough to savor the way her walls fluttered around you, milking your cock as she came untouched. "That’s it," you praised, your voice rough with lust. "Cum on my cock like the anal whore you are."

Her scream was raw, her body convulsing as you chased your own release, your thrusts turning erratic, desperate—

—until finally, with a guttural groan, you pulled out and painted her ass with thick, pulsing ropes of cum.

Jeongyeon collapsed, her body boneless, her breaths ragged.

You grinned, slapping her ass one last time.

"Welcome to the dark side, baby."

The storm had finally quieted outside, leaving only the soft hum of the city and the sound of Jeongyeon’s ragged breathing as she lay sprawled on the carpet, her body still trembling from the aftershocks. You knelt beside her, your fingers gently tracing the marks you’d left on her hips—the bruises, the bite marks, the faint red imprint of your palm on her ass.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—

“Was this really why you came here?” you murmured, your voice softer now, the heat of lust giving way to something quieter. Something real.

Jeongyeon let out a shaky laugh, rolling onto her back to look up at you. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen, her eyes still glazed with pleasure—but there was a weight in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“No,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. “I mean—yes, but… not just this.” She swallowed, her fingers brushing against your knee. “I missed you. The way you—fuck—the way you touch me, but also… the way you see me.”

You froze, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in her words.

“And when you’re gone again?” you asked, your voice rougher than you intended. “You’ll just… ignore me? Like last time?”

Jeongyeon’s lips curved into a teasing smirk, though her eyes stayed soft. “Do you want me to?”

You growled, grabbing her wrist and yanking her up into your lap, your mouth crashing into hers in a kiss that was more claim than caress.

“No,” you muttered against her lips, your grip tightening. “I’m being selfish this time.”

She melted into you, her arms looping around your neck as she kissed you back—slow, sweet, savoring.

“Then we’ll keep doing this,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. ��Secretly. As a… thank you for helping me with the store.” Her smile turned wicked. “At least until I figure out what to do with my husband.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mmm.” She nuzzled into your neck, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “He’s great when things are easy… but the second life gets hard?” She pulled back, her eyes dark. “He forgets.”

You grinned, your hands sliding down to grip her ass again.

“Lucky for you,” you purred, “I never forget.”

Jeongyeon’s fingers traced idle patterns across your chest as she lay against you, her body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure. The storm had passed completely now, leaving the office bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the rain-streaked windows.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she spoke—her voice so soft you almost missed it.

"You know…" She tilted her head up to meet your gaze, her eyes lighter than you’d seen them in years. "I think I always wanted you to be the one."

Your breath stalled.

Those words.

The ones you’d waited for since college, since the first time you’d watched her laugh across a crowded bar and thought, fuck, I’m done for.

Jeongyeon smiled, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I just… never let myself say it before."

You huffed a laugh, your arms tightening around her. "Took you long enough."

She pinched your side, but her grin was bright, real—the kind of smile she’d never given her husband, not like this. "Shut up. I’m trying to be romantic."

"Romantic?" You rolled her beneath you, your lips hovering just above hers. "After I wrecked your ass on the floor?"

Jeongyeon blushed, but her legs hooked around your waist anyway. "Especially after that."

You kissed her—slow, deep, promising—before pulling back just enough to murmur:

"Then let’s be selfish a little longer."

And as the city slept outside, you did.

(Final Scene – Office, Dawn)

The first streaks of sunlight bled through the windows, painting Jeongyeon’s bare skin in gold as she drowsed against your chest. Her fingers absently traced the scars on your shoulder—the ones from the bike accident sophomore year, the ones she’d kissed better even when she pretended she didn’t care.

Then, half-asleep, she mumbled:

"We’ll figure it out."

You stilled. "Figure what out?"

She nuzzled into your collarbone, her breath warm against your skin. "This. Us. The… messy parts." A yawn. "Fuck tradition. Fuck orthodox."

Your laugh rumbled through her. "That your grand plan? ‘Fuck it’?"

"Mmhm." Her leg hooked possessively over yours. "Worked for my ass tonight."

You grinned into her hair—god, you’d missed this. Missed her.

"Jeongyeon." You waited until she cracked one eye open. "I’m holding you to that."

She smirked, already drifting off again. "Better."

And for the first time in years, neither of you let go.

[fandomnerd9602]

Acceptance Blues

Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Avengers High)

This wasn’t what Wanda had anticipated. The letter held tightly in her hands. You and Wanda had planned to attend the same university together. You basically had the rest of your lives planned out.

And yet the university denied her admission.

Her head was spinning. The color had drained from her face. She could feel her heart palpitating from the mere thought of it all. What if you and her weren’t meant to be? Would someone else find your interest? Would a long distance relationship be the end of you and her?

Her track athlete of a brother Pietro broke the silence, “what’s wrong sestra?”

She simply pushed the letter into his hands. Pietro gave it a quick read and then sighed, “that’s their loss. You are the most amazing magic user in Avengers High”

“But (Y/N) and I were supposed to be attend that school together!” She argued.

Pietro put a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder, “life doesn’t always turn out the way you wish but…a love like yours, it may have to go thru some trials. But it’s strong enough to last”

“You really think so, bratok?”

“Yeah…and if not, I’ll punch (Y/N) for breaking your heart” he gives his sister a playful wink.

Later that day, as you and Wanda were leaving Avengers High, your favorite witch was uneasy.

“D-Detka,” she looked to you anxiously, “I need to tell you something”

“Sure thing, my Slytherin,” you gave her a soft smile, “what’s up?”

She guides you to a nearby park bench and the two of you take a seat.

“This is hard for me to say” she takes both of your hands, “you know I love you right?”

“O-Of course” you replied a little uncertain.

“I…” she tries to accentuate, “I didn’t get into UCLA”

“What?”

“Please don’t hate me! I know we wanted to go together there but I didn’t get in. The closest I got was UC Santa Barbara” Wanda begins to rattle on.

You quickly silence her with a kiss, you gently cup her cheek and hold her close.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you smile at her. “I got accepted to both UCLA and UC Santa Barbara”

“Really?”

“Where you go, I go…my Slytherin” you lean your forehead against hers.

“My Hufflepuff” she cries as she kisses you tenderly.

You just sat there on that park bench, holding one another and enjoying your time together. She was yours and you were all hers.

No matter what happened, no matter what distance, you and your scarlet witch would always find a way thru life together.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @aloneodi @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @marveldcfandom @moonlit-imagines @multi-fandom-enjoyer @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @texaswolf23 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @idkwhatever580 @iamnicodemus @blackwitchsworld @wombatking @scarletquake-n7

[harrietswriting]

The greasers going camping with there girlfriend's family?

an: I haven't gone camping in so long 😔 will be doing this as headcanoans!

W: some swearing I think. Gn reader

Darry Curtis

This mf definitely loves camping

He definitely loved camping as a kid

So when you asked if he wanted to come with your family, he was so excited

He played it cool tho

"Yeah sure, sounds fun." Internally: "Yippie!! 🤗🥳"

Helps your parents pitch the tent and feels so masculine 😭

He thinks it's the sweetest thing when you make a smore for him

If you don't have siblings, he feels so relaxed, this is such a vacation for him

If you do have siblings, that's okay too.

Little siblings, they stress him out a bit but he thinks their adorable. He has them help him find firewood. "Is this stick good, Darry?" "Hmm.. this one isn't dry enough. It'll smoke."

If you have teenage siblings, that's also okay!

He'll lowkey gossip with them?

He has no problem talking to your parents and charms them

Carves your initials into a tree (D + Y/I)

Then you carve a heart around it

Literally just having the best time

Sodapop Curtis

He was so excited but also nervous when you asked if he wanted to go

He's scared of bugs 😔

Helps pitch the tent and feels like he's bonding with your parents so well

If you have younger siblings, he has so much fun with them.

Tag, hide and seek, looking for sticks, skipping rocks, anything, he's playing

He'll also be entertaining them with spooky stories

Older siblings, he's cool with them too, but stays by you

No siblings, he feels a little awkward with only your parents being there with the two of you

His happy-go-lucky attitude charms them though

He's so excited for smores

He makes you a smore and feels so proud

Feels so awkward because he wants to be affectionate with you but your parents are there

He trys to teach you how to skip rocks on water

You or your sibling make a flower crown and he's so happy to wear it

Steve Randle

This mfing show off

He helps load and unload the car, carrying as much as he possibly can

If you are anyone else in your family is carrying a lot of stuff, he'll go, "Let me help you."

He's so proud of himself and will flex at you afterwards.

"Yeah, no biggie for me 💪😏" boy shut up

If you have siblings, he was not happy to learn that they'd be coming

If you have older siblings, it's not as bad

Really young siblings, okay. He'll think they're cute and help them get fire wood and mess with bugs

Around 12-15 year old siblings? He's not definitely not happy 😔

So excited to tell spooky stories around the campfire

He's not the most charming, but he's sweet enough to win your parents over

"Sir" and "ma'am"

But then he made a dirty joke too loud and your parents heard, so he got embarrassed and apologized 😔

He'll pick a flower for you and put it tuck it by your ear

Johnny Cade

He's never gone camping, but he's excited to go with you

He's so nervous about being around your parents though

But they like him, he's nice

He's actually not scared of bugs, he thinks they're cool

If you have older siblings, he'll look up to them in a way, he enjoys getting to talk to them

If you have younger siblings, he's happy to play with them

If you have no siblings, he'll probably be a little more awkward and stick to your side more

He'll pick wild flowers for you

"Here, y/n 😊" He hands you a little bouquet of dandelions and other little flowers

He accidentally catches his marshmallow on fire 😔

Wanders off with you to look for firewood and talk

Two-Bit Matthews

Before you go, you tell him that he needs to be on his best behavior

He would rather just go camping with you and/or his friends but whatever

I don't think he'd be able to charm your parents very well

But they see how happy he makes you, so it's okay

He's so excited for smores!

If you have older siblings, he'll joke with them, but still mainly hang by you

If you have little siblings, he will play with them and he will be so, so competitive

But he'll teach them how to stick rocks if there's a pond nearby

If you have a sibling close in age, he'll joke around with them too

Not scared of bugs but will curse out the mosquitoes (just not infront of your parents)

Tells you that if a bear comes, he'll fight it off

Also tells you that if a moose comes, he'll use you as a human shield, and tells you to use your siblings 💀

Dallas Winston

He has nothing against camping, but he does not want to go with your parents. It took quite a bit of convincing

Camping pro?

Puts the tent up by himself (+1 wow point from your parents)

You two "get lost" while looking for firewood (he didn't want to go back)

You talk forever

If you have older siblings, he won't really talk to them all that much, and they probably have preconceived notions about him cause he's Dallas Winston

If you have little siblings, he'll play with them a bit

Tag becomes super competitive

He'll suggest sardines (the reverse hide and seek game), just so he can hopefully hide with you and get to be close to you

If you have siblings close in age, he'll talk to them some, but mainly stays glued to your side

He'll find a nice rock and give it to you (he acts nonchalant bout it but he's like 😖🤗 internally)

He doesn't really care for smores so he might give you his

You'll go stargazing but he'll stare at you the whole time cause he does not give a fck about stars

"Look, there's the little dipper." You point at the sky. "Mhm😍" "...Dallas, you're not even looking." He'll grumble and look at the sky. "Wow🙄"

Wants to make out in the tent once your parents fall asleep.

If you say no, he suggests sneaking out of the tent.

If you say no, he'll huff and puff then suggest that you at least come into his sleeping bag with him.

An: this was so fun to write

[minorlyatfault]

vi / cherry girl sent a message : i don't know why, but with you, i'd dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless.

ᰔ pairing . . . p. jackson

ᰔ category . . . blurb , fluff , requested

ᰔ requested by . . . @simpingmyassoff

ᰔ with . . . a gn!reader ( cabin not specified )

ᰔ in which . . . you tried lifting up your boyfriend.

ᰔ tags . . . grammatical errors. ooc.

ᰔ look around . . . m.list. p.jackson , riordanverse m.list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. i was so so so sleepy whileimadethis

you didn't intend to make it a thing.

okay, maybe you kinda did.

but in your defense, he started it▰the stupid way he always just casually flexed his powers & played with his sword like it was light as a feather, like he wasn't almost jacked from all those years of training at camp, & like he didn't know you were watching.

so yeah. maybe you did mean it.

it was a tuesday. after supper, when the sky was a pale watercolor mess & people were dispersed off doing whatever▰some folks around the campfire, others by the lake. you & percy were strolling back to the cabins, & he was going on & on about some drachma he lost in the strawberry fields ("it was shiny! i lost my train of thought!"), & you were trying to hear him out but also. scheming.

because he'd walked in front of you just a little bit, hoodie up & hands thrust into his pockets, all lanky & tall & boyish & unfairly adorable. & something in your head just short-circuited.

i could totally pick him up, you thought.

& the moment that thought took root in your head, there was no shaking it.

you quickened your step. just a bit. just enough so that you could creep up behind him as he continued to vent about having been cheated by a magpie or some such nonsense. you drew close enough so that you could hear the huff of his breath & smell the salt of the sea that inexplicably seemed to stick to him.

then you made your move.

"what the▰!" percy yelped when your arms curled around his waist. he stiffened, caught halfway through a step, wriggling a little in your hold. "are you hugging me or▰wait▰wait, are you actually trying to pick me up at this moment?!"

you were.

& holy crap.

you were actually doing it.

his feet never touched the ground again.

you smiled, eyes wide with sheer feral excitement. "i told you i'm strong!"

"you never told me you were insane!"

you stumbled a bit but shifted your stance. okay. yeah. he was heavier than you'd anticipated. muscle-y. water boy had some weight. but he was also sort of yelling, which didn't help.

"stop squirming!" you huffed, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso as you took another tiny step forward, just to prove that you could.

"i'm not squirming! i'm fighting for my life!" percy's arms waved a bit in front of him, as if he didn't know what to do with them. "why are you picking me up? is this revenge? is this because of that time i told leo you cried at ratatouille?"

"i didn't cry!" you panted, already sweating. "i got misty!"

"oh, you cried. full-on ugly cry▰ whoa, okay▰" he stiffened when you tightened your grip. "don't drop me. don't drop me."

you chuckled, which had nearly put you off balance. "you think i can't carry you?"

"i think you're making really bold decisions for someone who nearly tripped on a rock last week."

"i have core strength, jackson."

"you have delusions."

& that's when it did. the killing wobble. you moved your foot, your knee gave, & gravity suddenly recalled it was there to work. oh, he is not staying up there. not for long.

"oh no▰" you panicked.

"oh no▰" he echoed, voice rising.

you didn't so much drop him. it was sort of. a controlled descent. really… sort of… both of you fell in a heap on the grass, your body contorted underneath his as you thudded & let out an extremely ungraceful, "oof."

silence.

then percy groaned. "i think my soul exited my body."

you wheezed, giggling. "i think my spine did."

he rolled half off of you, thudding onto the grass with a theatrical sigh. "well. that was fun."

you rolled your head to look at him, hair sticking out in every direction. "i did carry you, though. even if it was just for, like, five seconds."

he regarded you. blinked. then grinned, all teeth & mischief. "you did. honestly? kinda hot."

"shut up."

"no, really. i've never been picked up before. it was… strangely romantic. dangerous. like you could toss me off a cliff & i'd thank you."

you pushed his shoulder. "i might."

he pushed you back, softer. "you totally won't. you love me too much."

you wrinkled your nose but didn't protest. instead, you looked up at the sky, both of you lying out in the grass, your bodies still entwined from the fall.

then percy moved closer, voice lower. "but next time?"

"yeah?"

"tell me before you go hulk."

you snorted. "where's the fun in that?"

© MINORLYATFAULT

[wonderlanddreamer]

[1928] Small Heath, Birmingham.

A John & Lydia Shelby drabble.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The streets of Small Heath were quiet this time of day, but not empty. Lydia perched on the worn stone ledge of a neglected shopfront, tucked safely between crumbling brickwork and rails that had long surrendered to rust. Her fingers toyed with the ring on her right hand, John’s old ring, one she’d nicked from his drawer when she was twelve and he’d never asked for back.

She had blood on her knuckles.

Not hers.

“Lyds,” came John’s voice, low and even, the way it always was when he was trying not to make something worse.

She didn’t turn around.

He crossed the floor slowly, boots crunching against bits of glass and old bolts. When he got close enough, he crouched down in front of her, arms resting on his thighs.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “It was just some idiot.”

“You split his lip clean open.”

Her voice steadied with an edge. “He grabbed me. Said I should smile when he talks to me.”

John’s jaw set, muscles clenched hard against the thought. “You tell Tommy?”

“I’m telling you.”

He nodded, satisfied.

“Shouldn’t’ve been alone, Lyds.” he said after a pause. “Not round here.”

“Don’t start,” she replied sharply, finally meeting his gaze with defiance. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I ain't saying you can’t. I’m saying they don’t play nice.”

Lydia’s expression hardened, eyes bright with frustration. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m being watched all the time. Like I’m glass that’ll break.”

“You ain’t glass,” John said, voice low. “But you're still ours. And we protect what’s ours, even when it don't want it.”

She looked down at her hands, stained with dried blood and dust. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

John shook his head. “I think you did what you had to. And I think if I’d been there, the bastard wouldn’t have teeth left.”

That made her smile a little.

He reached out and gently tapped her chin, lifting her gaze. “You ain’t a kid to me, Lyds. Haven’t been for a long time. I see you, yeah? I know you’re strong. Smart. Brave as fuckl.”

“I don’t always feel brave.”

“Eh, no one does. But you stand your ground, even when you’re scared. That’s braver than most.”

A lump rose in her throat, her next words thick with worry. “I don’t want Tommy to find out. He’ll go off the rails again.”

John nodded. “Alright. This stays between us.”

“You won’t tell?”

“Nope. But you’ll let me teach you how to punch better next time.”

Lydia laughed, wiping at her face. “I didn’t do that bad.”

“You didn’t,” John said, rising to his feet and offering her his hand. “But you’re a Shelby. We do better than not bad.”

She took his hand, letting him pull her up. She didn’t let go right away.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“Always,” he said, brushing a speck of dried blood from her cheek. “You’re my girl.”

Her head leaned against his shoulder as they began their stroll, side by side, the familiar weight of his arm comforting against the night’s chill.

Words fell away as unnecessary, their silence speaking volumes.

I've not written for Lydia in a while, tagging those who may be interested. 🤍

@novashelby @evita-shelby @zablife @darklydeliciousdesires @copinghex @pacifymebby @thatcrazyblonde57 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @starklizzie @cillianmurphysdimples @rei-is-still-here @futurefamousdeadmusician

Please let me know if you want to be added to future tag lists. 🫶🏻

[mullermilkshake]

People would assume

Part 11 <- Part 12 -> Part 13

Only thinking of you.

Satoru comes home and reacts to the news of the night before how you expected.

Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader Tags - smut,grinding, vaginal sex, p in v, dirty talk, mentions of unproductive sex/creamipies

<- Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell me; call me? I would have flown back on the jet in a heartbeat. I would have been home in two hours; two. I would have been there.” Satoru wasn’t angry at you. But he reacted exactly the way you assumed he would. 

“I didn’t want you to worry while you were so far away. Two or twenty hours it didn’t matter, you still wouldn’t have been back in time if something…” You caught yourself immediately, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of your nightdress.

“Oh course I’d worry, I’m worrying now.” Satoru stood on the other side of his office, looking away from you, he didn’t seem to catch what words you were going to use to finish that sentence.

“What if you got hurt, or worse and I wasn’t there for you? The security footage stopped working and you went through all of that shit on your own, all the while I was playing golf… I knew I shouldn’t have left you; you should have come with me-”

“I made a decision.” You were more assertive. “I knew I’d be here all by myself and all I did was let my head get the better of me and I made a big issue out of nothing…” 

He came up to you, his touch kinder than ever. “It wasn’t nothing to you. Please, call me no matter the time or how long it takes me to get to you, call me next time. Tell me. I’ll be there.”

You nodded and there stood a pregnant pause between the two of you for some time, Satoru holding you in his arms eventually, pulling you in and rubbing your hair enough that it could have easily put you to sleep. 

“How are you feeling now, any better?” 

You shook your head but didn’t dare move away from the contact. “No, I’m going to go to the doctor after the weekend if nothing changes.”

Satoru fiddled with your hair still and brushed it from your face lovingly. “It’s worrying me. Maybe it's... nah. Maybe it's the flu or something.”

It didn’t feel like the flu, just tiredness hitting you like a full speed train. It was possible you were just burnt out. “I’m sure it’ll work out, but right now I could do with a lay down. I missed you.” 

“A lay down huh?” He’d relaxed a little, there was a slight hint of a smile at his lips. “That can be arranged because I missed you too.” 

He whisked you off your feet and carried you out of the office like a newlywed couple, you smiled and held on tight as he navigated the stairs and kicked the bedroom door open.

“Don’t swing me like that Satoru or I really won’t feel any better, you ass!” He didn’t take anything you said seriously whilst you were full blown belly laughing, not serious enough to launch you on the bed.

“Ass? You wound me Honey.” The distance between you closed so quickly and Satoru was on top of you, pressed snug to your chest with his chin. “I got a smile out of you, I’d say my mission is completed.”

“Yeah until I puke all over you with motion sickness.”

“Ew. You say it so hot though.”

Totally inappropriate and immature. “That’s ew. You’re so…”

“Hot?”

“No.”

“Amazingly talented at everything I do?”

“No!”

“Then what?”

“Annoying.”

Satoru face dropped. “I’m what? You’re such a liar!”

In one quick motion, he had you hooked over and rolled enough to sit you on top of him, hair falling in front of your face, hands pressed against the cotton shirt on his chest in a way that was suggestive. 

He did not make that move. “So… You thought of where you wanted to go? Now the auction is over, the rest of the meetings end this week and we’ll have a lot more free time together.”

Malaysia. You wanted to visit there. Though the more and more you thought of it, it only reminded you more and more of him. You recalled it clearly like it was yesterday. 

‘ Malaysia. A wise choice. I hear Kuantan is nice this time of year.’

That stopped you from saying it, a stupid reason and stupid enough that you could not remove that thought from your head. He’d ruined something else once again. 

Seeing Satoru lay there looking up at you with those eyes made you want to give him the world, so beautiful and would do damn near anything for you.

He would give you the moon and its orbit if he could, you just knew he would happily climb into a rocket, annoy the astronauts and catch it with a comically large net just to get a smile on your lips.

Three years almost in the grand scheme of things was not long at all and there was so much more to learn about each other, that was a point you sought comfort in knowing you were going to evolve with him. Together.

And fuck, did you love the guy too. 

Which brought you right back to the point. If it weren’t for Kento Nanami, things might have ended differently.  

So fuck him. Fuck that guy.

“Malaysia. I hear Kuantan is nice.”

“Hmm. Malaysia huh? Whatever you ask, you shall receive.”

You couldn’t hide that smile of yours. “Really, we’ll go and it’s just you and me, no work involved?” He only nodded, but he was terrible at hiding his own grin.

Alone time, that’s all you ever asked for whenever it was readily available, sometimes it wasn’t at all and that was the downside of being committed to someone in his position.

Some women asked for fancy cars and dramatic statement pieces around their necks, others begged for glamorous designer shoes that came with their own fucking insurance that just begged to be stolen from their feet in public. 

You just wanted Satoru, the whole money thing never sat right with you, recalling your little stuffy apartment and the closet with the rickety door where Sashimi loved to sleep whenever the sun hit your bedroom window just right. The stupid door you wrestled with, however you did not miss. At all. 

Sometimes, things seemed so much simpler back then though… 

“I could look at you all day, did you know that?” Satoru grazed his fingertips over your hips and pulled your nightdress up a little. “What are you thinking about?”

“Mmm,” You thought for a second, tapped your lip with your index finger. “You.”

It wasn’t meant to be construed as sexual in any way, but the two of you knew exactly where this was going after you had said that. There was something about Satoru’s eyes that changed whenever he looked at you in a way that people would assume was lust from a distance. 

And they would be correct. 

You saw that look many times before he fucked you good over the desk in his office, shoving his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet whilst he had to watch a live work presentation. Camera turned off of course but the mic still switched on, that was a good test of your self control though Satoru rarely had a tight grip on his own.

“Just can’t get me off your mind, huh?” Satoru’s hands wandered over the fat of your ass and up the base of your back, pressed flat and firm. “What I gave you before I left for my trip wasn’t enough to tire you over?”

Electric shot up your spine and sent warm flutters inside the pit of your stomach and gorgeous tickles to your muscles to coax you to jolt and grind over his cock that you noticed quite quickly. 

That was quite a night. Satoru looked after you quite well and in truth it was more than enough to last you all week. How he used his mouth the way you liked and the perfect purple marks over your breasts like he owned them gave you enough to finish yourself off whenever you wanted.

“I don’t think it did, actually.” Grinding on his cock always seemed to drive him crazy.

Still, like he said, if you asked, he’d give it to you. His personal time and perfect slender fingers to get sounds from you one wouldn’t normally make in polite conversation.

“Look at you. Did you really miss my cock that much? Now I know for definite you should’a come with me Honey, but I’ll tell ya somethin’” He pulled you so close his breath tickled your ear with heat. “My cock missed you so much, I got hard just thinkin’ about you.” 

Holy shit. Words like that got you soaking on the right day, and it seemed it was one of those times. The sickness and tiredness went away already like it was edging you to one hell of a night. Nowhere in sight like a good girl, readily sat there in the corner to allow you to lose yourself to your boyfriend and watch what a fantastic lover he was. 

Pushing your ass close to him, Satoru nibbled on your earlobe and sucked it, putting all the pressure on your hips as his cock got harder. ‘There’s no way I’m starting and letting you come on my fingers… You can take all of my cock and only that.” 

You wanted to whine and it was as though he'd’ predicted you would, but you didn’t complain when he smacked your ass and let it echo in the bedroom like others would hear it. 

“I bet you used your fingers on yourself while I was away. Am I right?” 

Of course he was fucking right. The first night you were on your own, you had a glass of wine and read one of those sloppy romance books you’d been into recently. The guy did questionable things to the main character and all you did was imagine Satoru doing all those things to you. 

One thing led to another and you finished yourself off… Twice.

Another spank, harder this time. Fuck. “Am I right?” 

“Yes- okay, yes you’re right.”

“Dirty girl. I can’t leave you alone for three nights without you touching yourself, what should I do with you?” 

You ground more deeply, his cock hard and rubbing you the right way enough that you were certain that keeping up like this would make you come quickly. But Satoru knowing your body by now and recognising your cues, he wouldn’t keep you like this long, he would inevitably pull away and tease you before picking you up and pushing you down on his erect length until you begged him to stop.

Which was never.

You struggled to speak consistently but had the strength to sit up straight. “Well… you can fuck me- fuck me for starters.”

“Would you like that? I could rip these panties off you right now and fuck you senseless-” He paused abruptly, he didn’t stop you and kept bucking his hips. “Wait… you said you wanted to lay down, let’s do that instead.”

“No.” You were stern and meant business. “You got me all worked up so you can sort this issue out, then we can lay down.”

“Are you ordering me? That is very fucking hot, Honey. Keep going.” His voice grew more gruff, he was getting excited.

“You’re going to fuck me, come inside me, then order take out.” Of course you needed food after, even in the midst of your passion. 

Satoru laughed but his movements didn’t stop. “Take out too? Jesus christ why don’t you just marry me as well, huh?”

“Mmm,” Now you were getting sarcastic, “Depends if you fuck me right, maybe that’ll determine my answer.”

The tip of his cock poked you perfectly, if you sat as you were and leant to the side, it was going to make you come through the friction alone. Though it was short lived when he stopped you with a hand either side of your waist pulling you up. 

You didn’t get time to whine that time either because he was so quick, you were soaked, your underwear pulled to the side, pants undone and his cock pushed inside you. 

“Oh fuck-” Gorgeous, his cock was just gorgeous.

“This is what you wanted, right? And now you want me to come inside you too, you ask too much of me and I can’t say no to you; shit I can’t say no."

You moved and bounced, the perfect noises of skin on skin, sweat and wet. “Not much- mhm not much, just your cock.” 

He always made you a mess and now he was getting you closer just by the way he was holding you, firm hands had a firm grip, he wouldn’t let you fall, he wouldn’t let you go until you let go. Closer.

So much closer. Close enough to...

A massive crash downstairs made you both stop as you were. Heavy pants and hot breaths were the only sounds after the noise. “What the fuck was that?” 

Satoru didn’t say a word and he had his eyes hardened on the bedroom door that was open into the dim hallway. His own breathing calmed immediately, yours however, didn’t and it matched your heart.

“Satoru…”

“Shh.” One finger up to his lips, “I don’t think it’s-”

“Meeeeooowwwwww!” Sashimi shot through the bedroom door which gave you a little relief knowing it was the silly cat making a ruckus downstairs, but Satoru still hadn’t moved from where he was.

“It’s alright, Love. It was just Sashimi, I’ll clean the mess up later-”

“That noise wasn’t the cat.” He didn’t look at you.

It was. You had just heard it and saw Sashimi darting from the crime scene, of course it was him. “Babe there’s no noise-”

A door opened, the office door specifically. You had grown accustomed to the artificial noise that the office door made, the same annoying to micro squeak you had begged Satoru to fix, but in his own words, ‘Kinda gives it character, y’know?” 

“Stay here and don’t come out until I tell you,” He pulled away and pulled out, still inside you and sat you down on the bed but never took his eyes away from that door. 

“Satoru wait-”

He put up his hand to dismiss you and strode over towards the open door while sorting his pants out. “Lock yourself in the bathroom and don’t come out. Please,” Your name was called, “Please do as I ask.”

Then he wandered away into the darkness. 

You weren’t sure whether to follow him or stand by the bedroom door so you could bring him back up and help him should find himself in a spot of trouble.

Thinking and thinking. Thinking on what to do, you clambered back towards the bathroom and did as you were told, but the haunting loneliness sat uncomfortably on your chest just watching that dim hallway through the open doors. 

It was just like last night.

Whoever it was, they had come back to finish whatever they had started.

Part 11 <- Part 12 -> Part 13

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 😊

Taglist -@starrynights23x,@yatiimariiee,@jumpinjaxx,@keepghostly,@reicyberia,@yourhornysister

Likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated! ❤️

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[daz4i]

here let me give you a tldr

Recurrent suicidal ideation or self harm.

duh. it's dazai

Chronic feelings of emptiness.

duh. it's dazai

^ can you believe i wrote like 2 whole pages abt these 2 points alone in my doc. incredible

(1) Markedly disturbed sense of identity and (2) distorted self-image.

1. the name of his ability is "no longer human" (more accurate translation is "disqualified from being human") i don't think it's that big of a stretch to say he has Issues™ with his identity (also given how he practically changes his personality and behavior in often extreme ways for the people around him . yeah)

2. girl he is literally always covered in bandages (i can't say that's the reason but given we don't have any other one. no harm in theorizing when it helps my very serious and important tumblr post)

Impulsive or reckless behaviors (e.g., impulsive or uncontrollable spending, unsafe sex, substance use disorders, reckless driving, binge eating).

duh. it's dazai

fr tho i can't say this for certain (esp the "impulsive" part) but. one of the first times we see him - at least in the anime - is when he's high (i don't think i need to explain why his suicide attempts are bogus, i doubt this wasn't on purpose). we see him drink relatively often, esp compared to other characters, and his likes literally list "alcohol". also, these shots from his dorm from when he avoided going back to work after being kidnapped, supposedly not more than a few days really:

i will say tho. mad respect for only eating one thing. autistic king also

(edit: actually from my own experience + other ppl with bpd i met most of us have sensory issues - it's not a symptom, more like a very common thing - so it might even be a part of that!)

Transient, stress-related paranoid or severe dissociative symptoms.

i can't say anything abt dissociation, but his paranoia is def there even if he's relatively subtle about it lol. having 300 backup plans for anything your enemy can pull isn't normal. setting up traps preparing for a possible fight or disaster (see: the entire guild arc) isn't normal. no one else in the ada does that. even when we see him making strategies with ranpo, he's the one thinking up options and possibilities - he is on constant high alert and prepared to be attacked. you may say it's for a good reason which is fair i will not lie. but again this is why i bring up the comparison to the other ada members. he is clearly more paranoid and overprepared than they are, this is abnormal

also let me turn you to story's lovely post about what might be re-triggering this thought process for him bc i love this analysis sm 🖤

Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships, often characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation, also known as "splitting"

god i wish i could find the post where i mentioned this but. imo. that's part of(!!!) his dynamic with chuuya. i feel like esp in their interactions in the current day you can see him zigzagging between commenting on how much he hates chuuya - iirc only as a reaction to chuuya saying the same thing - and then admiring him the next minute, when chuuya isn't there to hear

him getting attached super quickly, telling him he loves him one day after meeting him, that's such a bpd thing lol 😭 i can maybe let it slide bc he was 15 but like . yeah that's not normal even for a 15 y/o. and again immediately switching to being... vitriolic, after chuuya's negative responses, and being obsessed with hurting him later on ("i spent the last 7 years thinking of ways to kill chuuya" or however that quote goes. girl please go on mood stabilizers)

if you've heard the term fp before you might be familiar with this, but tldr it's that person you hold as the one most important to you, the one with your self esteem and general wellbeing in their hands whether they know or not. if they fail to give you attention or validation as you expect, you might respond by attacking them, acting coldly, wanting to hurt them etc. do i need to go on

(i know a lot of people insist that he's just. lying. and that's fair! i personally disagree - yeah he's not 100% honest but imo there is a kernel of truth to his hate. it just doesn't negate the love and attachment that are there as well, and i'd dare even say feeds into them, and one can't exist without the other. also like on a factual level chuuya is in his dislikes list and idk how you'd lie on a meta level like this askljdfgh so this is my offer for WHY he's there, beyond actual meta stuff like the relationship between their irl counterparts)

bonus: for beast dazai that's 100% odasaku. if my fp rejected me this badly i too would throw myself off a building 👍 (fr tho that's also a possible response. not an outward reaction, but an inward one, attacking yourself for their lack of attention or validation)

these are just the ones i have off the top of my head. with hcs and theories you could probably get into the other symptoms as well (esp with beast dazai. he's the biggest bpd icon i've ever seen fr)

hope you enjoyed my slightly unhinged rambling 🫡 have a great day!

me continuing my bpd dazai analysis trying to phrase anything that isn't "dazai has bpd bc i said so" when my brain is as tired and messy as it is right now

i don't have a reaction pic here. imagine me looking frustrated and tired on my computer

[dreamsy990]

ive posted a ton of art recently i should get one self indulgent drawing

[r0semultiverse]

Happy 4/13, here's the Deltritan or Satyr Equivalent to Dragon Ball for their species and civilization.

[korattata]

I have been. Very anxious about my puppy's mortality tbh but today when talking to the vet she said she'd recommend getting her blood rechecked in 3 months...

3 whole months... She really thinks she's gonna live 3 more months... In 4 months she'll be 17... Cookie..........

(Obligatory old baby photos)

[valvesoftware]

breakups are so fucking weird. three years and just like that it's gone. huh

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this